In another installment in my ever-so-scintillating #useitup campaign, I summoned the will to dig out the last serving from the old peanut butter jar today. Please, hold your applause.
This jar has been languishing for months, with just a
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One of the singular joys of getting older (or not) is the sudden accumulation of cheery white-hatted, amber-orange pill bottles. What used to make a rare appearance, one bottle here or there, after a dental surgery, say, now piles up like candy wrappers on Halloween night.
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The peas in this half-empty bag, left by a former roommate, were pretty shriveled when I sawzall-ed it out of the encrusted freezer. I confess I was tempted to toss them straight in the compost bin. Easy peasy (pun intended).
But then
…“What does your ideal writing space look like?
My laptop currently rests on an Army-green picnic table covered in graffiti, some faded and some so recent I had to check for wet paint before sitting. Surrounded by towering trees, the table perches
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