Musings and Memoir

I was 19 or 20, in college, when I showed enough competence to pass an introductory piano class. I was about to turn 40 when I got a keyboard to learn on at home, a beginner once again. In between, I forgot everything and ignored my inner artist while vaguely

I’m naturally a planner, but life gets busy for all of us, and this year I had some shopping to do on the Saturday before Christmas. I waited until I thought mall traffic had died down, then grabbed my coat and prepped my husband for what time I would

In one of the suburban houses I grew up in, my bedroom was on the second floor overlooking a cul-de-sac. Across from the cul-de-sac was a barren field, and beyond that was a concrete wall that bordered a busy shopping center. There was a Bel Air

I try to avoid talking about my age in cliches, especially meme-ified ones such as "I'm this old ..." followed by a picture of a Game Boy or some other fad from my childhood. In fact, I never use the word "old" about myself