Recently while shopping at our
local grocery store, I was reminded of someone I hadn’t thought of in years,
someone who’d inadvertently changed my outlook on life. It happened shortly
after I got married and moved to Oxnard, California. Read about it (here).
Three days ago I received an e-mail from
one of my favorite bloggers, Catalyst/Taylor at Oddball Observations. His e-mail was succinct: Say it isn’t so!!! A link was attached. When I clicked
on it, I was connected to a news story about a journalist who’d discovered he
was on Homeland Security’s Terrorist Watchlist. The journalist’s name was
Stephen F. Hayes. Read about it (here).
Mrs. Chatterbox and I enjoy watching HGTV,
especially programs where designers compete to remodel older properties. Lately
I’ve noticed that wallpaper, which had all but disappeared as a home fashion
statement, is making a comeback. I'm not happy. Read about it (here).
Do you have special words in your family
that aren’t found in the dictionary, words only those who share DNA with you
can understand? In our family we have a special word that's quite useful. Read about it (here).
Years ago I was challenged by a famous artist to create "ugly" art. The challenge was harder than I thought. Read about it (here).
In 1976 while backpacking through Europe, Mrs. C. and I stopped for dinner at a bistro in Athens. We were enjoying our wine and waiting for
our meal when something caught my eye on the wall behind my wife. Inching down
from behind a picture on the wall behind Mrs. C. was a cockroach. Read about it (here).
I
enjoy sharing my love of art history and recently asked for suggestions for
topics readers might want discussed. This post was prompted by someone
suggesting Rembrandt’s The Night
Watch. Essays on art can be rather dry
but consider yourself warned; you’re about to see a man having his brains blown
out. Check it out (here).
I’d had a crush on Helen Delgado ever since I was five
years old, but in grade school someone briefly eclipsed her--Mrs. Urbanick, my sixth grade teacher.
Back then, I had no idea how quickly, or tragically, my new infatuation would
end. Read about it (here).
I know many of you have been
published, but I’ve been writing nonstop for a decade without seeing a single
word in print outside the Blogosphere. I recently learned that a California
publisher has accepted my work for an upcoming collection of true stories
titled Working for a Living. The
collection is being published by Not Your Mother’s Books and is tentatively scheduled to come out in
November. Read about it (here).
In 1985 The Portland Golf Club needed someone to paint a portrait of a celebrity who'd played their course. I was selected to create the portrait. Check it out (here).
My grandmother finally told me the truth about who killed the pigs during the Depression when my mother was a little girl. Or did she? Read about it (here).
My only sibling, an older
brother who happens to be a partner for a major Wall Street bank, has always
been status conscious. He married the high school prom queen, owns homes in
prestigious neighborhoods, drives highly touted luxury cars and only reserves
tables at trendy restaurants. When time came for him to acquire a dog he
researched the subject and paid top dollar for a golden lab from a well-known
breeder. My nieces and nephew named the dog Wilsy. Read about her (here).
My mother wasn’t content keeping
house and drinking coffee with the other housewives. In 1962 when I was ten
years old she shocked the neighborhood by setting her sights on finding a job.
Back then gas was cheap and Sunday drives were a popular pastime. Mom, Dad and
I piled into our Packard and drove into the foothills near Los Gatos. We ended
up at the bottling plant for Almadén Vineyards and noticed a sign offering free
tours of the facility. Read about mother's interesting encounter (here).
