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Elaine Soloway's Rookie Widow Series: Leaving Home, My Magic Act and The Gold Line to South Pasadena
"Well, I could see you struggling with your decision to leave Chicago for Los Angeles. I watched you tossing each night, and wrestling with second thoughts. It was painful for me to witness that, so I thought it wise to reappear and help you out. It's called 'separation anxiety. " "It's not really second thoughts," I told her. "I know I want to be closer to my daughters, and it's important to do it now, when I'm untethered and in good health. But after I enjoyed lunches and dinners with close friends, I felt sad, and wondered how I'd get along without these people in my day-to-day life." more »
Powerless Against Dust Bunnies
Roberta McReynolds writes: A rather large mound of dirt had now taken up residence in the sink. Fine dust floated in the air and was slowly drifting over every surface within a three-foot radius: kitchen curtains, countertop, flooring, and me. Phoebe, our cat, peeked cautiously around the corner as I coughed from somewhere deep within the haze, staring at me with a curious look as though to say, "Seriously, I thought you were trying to get rid of that stuff." She turned away, flipping her tail aloft as a sign of superiority as she marched off in search of a place to nap ... and shed more fur. more »
Napkin Rings and Saving Ways: Initials Engraved in Silver, Rings That Were Clearly Ours, Each One Different From Anyone Else's
Julia Sneden wrote: Anyone who has ever hand-scrubbed a damask napkin across a washboard, rinsed it, set it in the sun to bleach, hung it on the line to dry, dampened it before ironing, and then ironed and folded it and placed it back in the drawer, is not about to take on the task more often than necessary. Unless there had been an utter disaster like a spill of grape juice, or an emergency napkin thrown on spilled gravy to keep it from flowing over the edge of the table, or an uncle who had had a bit too much Scotch and thoughtlessly blew his nose on the best double damask, we refolded our napkins at meal's end and placed them neatly in napkin rings that were clearly ours, each one different from anyone else's.
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Lost: An Incredible Emporium
Joan L. Cannon recalls: Wanamaker's sold pianos: grand, spinet, or upright; upholstery fabrics, draperies, and kitchen appliances. Everything that our family needed, except for standard groceries and alcohol, could be found at Wanamaker's. Gift items, gourmet treats and fancy chocolates, musical instruments other than pianos, sporting goods and evening clothes, waffle irons and radios were at hand. There was mass-produced and one-of-a-kind art, gift items, radios and phonographs … and on and on. I wish something like Wanamaker's could be created someday when we can look for beauty, utility and art for art's sake in a commercial venue — when we no longer need all our resources for trying to save our species and our planet. more »