Spitball Army

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

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Yep, I’ve gone back to shcool to learn how to spel!

But, really…My nephew Nicholas’ 8th grade class in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, is fundraising this weekend by gift-wrapping at their local Barnes & Noble store.

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Over the ensuing twleve months, that post has been seen enough times through Google searches and the like that it is the #9 most-viewed page on this labyrinthine website. And every single person who has seen it has moved on without having that secret yellow cake mix cookie recipe to put to use.

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About a week ago, on the Facebook website, someone posted an event entitled “Election Day.” Members were asked to choose whether they were “attending” or not, much like R.S.V.P.’ing for a dinner party. I selected Yes, and added a note: You would have to kill me to keep me from attending. I haven’t always felt this way.

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I read with interest your recipe for blueberry glace pie, and was wondering if you have ever tried that recipe with any other fruits as the main ingredient?

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If cat Barbara could have ever been named after a particular person, though, her namesake would most likely have been my first grade teacher, SAM (our acronym for Sister Augustine Mary, who later changed her name back to Sister Barbara Mason), who telephoned me on my birthday one year and played “Las Mañanitas” on her trumpet.

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Once the word gets out that my all-encompassing eye has been soaking up details from within the homes of people kind enough to welcome me into their living spaces, I may never get another invitation ever again. But the wall ornament above was a detail that demanded documentation.

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“Good Things” (2005) by Kathleen Edwards

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“In a Graveyard” (2001) by Rufus Wainwright

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