Instructor Did NOT Like My Work

Dear Reader:

“My Favorite Kitchen” did not earn high praise. This does not crush me; in fact, it rather excites me. It gives me the impetus to ask: Why do I write? It fires me up! It makes me thankful that I’m 57 years old and so I can see that it doesn’t matter that my instructor didn’t appreciate my essay. It makes me think about other writers; it makes me think about readers.

First, I write because I’ve always admired writers and loved books. I write because I enjoy the challenge of it and I am so elated when I feel I’ve got it just right. Nathaniel Hawthorne said “Easy reading is damn hard writing.” Yes, it is!

Sometimes I write because I hope I can help someone. I always turn to the page when life becomes difficult for me. I look for advice and comfort and I find it. When I wrote about my brother’s death, my decision to be a stay-at-home mom and the benefits of Prozac, I was reaching out to you, dear reader.

I also write because it’s more fun than cleaning, jogging, golfing, cooking….etc.!  In other words, I enjoy it. And, it is nice to think that others enjoy reading my posts. With you in mind, I  keep my entries as short as possible and as entertaining and truthful as possible.

When I was asked to write 750 words describing a kitchen…I thought:  What? Why? I don’t want to write that. (BTW…750 words just happens to be my self-imposed max limit: I figure if I can do death, marriage and antidepressants in that many words, I should be able to convey most ideas within that word count!)  So, I improvised. I didn’t adhere to the word count. I didn’t offer generous details of how the kitchen looked (I can’t remember what color the walls were or how the countertops looked). I tried to make the topic work for me and this venue.

I decided to publish the work here because I thought it might remind you of your own grandmother or inspire you to allow someone to linger in your work space, and I added the recipe because I thought you’d like that!

Off to make some coffee,

Michele

 

 

 

 

I Could Be Slimmer

Dear Reader:

When I enter my height and weight on the BMI (Body Mass Index) calculator, I am just inside (and occasionally  just outside!) the healthy range. This really only tells part of the story, though. My doctor could fill you in on the rest.

“Look, I’m not saying you’re fat,” he assured me during my last physical. “But, I knew you when you were 15 pounds lighter.” (So did I…that was a long time ago!) “Let’s just say you’re fluffy.”

Maybe you are hating my doctor about now. But, don’t. We both have a sense of humor and enjoy verbally sparring with each other. He acknowledges that I am in very good health when he sees the results of my blood work and he acknowledges that I don’t want to take any more of his valuable time talking about my weight. (To give you a full picture: he is only a couple of inches taller than me with a small frame and I’d guess we are about the same weight!)

But, I can be honest with you. Truthfully, I know I could be thinner, but I really do not want to do what it would take to be thinner. I was blessed with Italian curves and a small waist and I knew in my teens, twenties, thirties and even forties that I looked good! I’m now pushing 60 and it would take a whole lot of “NO” to look the way I used to.

My husband and I are retired. Our daughter is in college. And, after nearly 33 years of marriage (40 years together), we deserve to eat, drink and be merry. We are past the half-way mark in life and that, in and of itself, gives us every reason to enjoy.  Today we will go to the gym to exercise and tonight we will again pour a glass of vino and enjoy a satisfying meal together. We may even follow our meal with a bit of pastry or chocolate. There will be no guilt!

Cheers,

Michele

 

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