Derfwad Manor is seven-and-a-half years old and Mrs. G. often wonders when it's time to let it go. Blogs have seasons and hers has been, with great highs and lows, a lengthy one. This afternoon, she was combing through her archives and came across this post written in November of 2007...
Three weeks ago, on the advice and under the supervision of her well-meaning but narcissistic psycho-pharmacologist, Mrs. G. eliminated an antidepressant from her prescription lineup.
Photo by Pink Sherbert Photography
Be it Venial or Mortal (there's no escaping Original), we've all got secrets -- light, dark, funny, sad -- worth bringing to light. The act of confession can be liberating, mollifying and entertaining. Contrition? Repentance? A shot of Tequila? That's your call, sister.
A couple of weeks ago, some punk thugs went up and down Mrs. G's street rifling and stealing items from unlocked cars. Mrs. G's wallet and prescription sunglasses were stolen.
On the back cover of Scott Simon’s 2010 book, Baby, We Were Meant for Each Other: In Praise of Adoption, actor John Lithgow gives a glowing endorsement. “This is a surprising, powerful, and important book,” he says. I had no idea John Lithgow was a member of the adoption triad, someone with the kind of credibility I count on when seeking “powerful and important” books on the topic. But a quick Google search led me to his status: Lithgow is an honorary adoptive parent of a manatee named Rosie as anointed by the Save the Manatee Club.
I’m from a tiny little town in South Carolina, close to Myrtle Beach. That’s where I was born, and where I lived until I was 18. It was an idyllic Southern upbringing, with magnolias and debutante balls and shelling peas on the front porch. I loved the charm, the slower pace of life, loved that everyone knew everyone else