Little Voice Says, “Emily Dickinson”

I believe in that little voice inside us that says, do this or do that. Sometimes it may lead us astray, but other times it tells us something we need to hear or be reminded of. For the past couple of days, my little voice has been saying, “Emily Dickinson.” Weird, I know, but safely stowed away in one of my many book nooks is the “Collected Poems” by Miss Emily Dickinson. I bought this book 12 years ago on the bargain book shelf at Barnes & Noble for $4.98. I’ve rarely opened it until today. When I bought it, I only bought it because I believed it’d make me look well read while it sat on the bookshelf of the library I’d inevitably have when I married my soon-to-be rich husband. Well, I don’t need to expand on...

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Now Presenting: The Halloween Scrooge

    Call me the Halloween Scrooge—I just don’t find any fun in this day and think it’s absurd that it’s even a “holiday.”  I haven’t been a Scrooge all my life and I have no religious objections to the day. I just don’t enjoy Halloween. Maybe it’s because I hate orange and black or that the costumes are uncomfortable and leave me freezing my ass off.  This is what I remember of Halloween growing up.  “Remember” being the key word here because in a recent search to discover the roots of my Halloween scroogeness, I came to realize I have NO photos of me as a kid with any Halloween costume—and neither does my brother! This is a tragedy in today’s shutterbug culture! (Of course, not an Easter or Christmas passed without a photo by...

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