There’s something special about bubbles appearing from nowhere in a fluted glass.
For me it’s magic, like finding a fresh spring coming from a rock. Maybe this magic is what finds the world using “Bubbly” for celebrations.
Call it what you will: Champagne, Sparkling Wine, Prosecco, Cava, Spumante, Asti, Lambrusco, Moscato d’Asti; I just call it Bubbly—no need to be snobby with fancy names about something so delicious.
FINDING REASON Continue reading »

“When you’re a baby, you are God-like.” These—the words from a well-known 
Today’s post is a bit different. It’s a collection of wisdom taken from a book that took me f.o.r.e.v.e.r. to read. It’s title: ”The Greatest Salesman in the World” by Og Mandino. (if you have time, listen to Og’s story
Oh Hi Monday.
Sitting in a group with others, my mind is completely distracted with
My friend owned a day-spa. Seriously, this is a great friend to have. I was her guinea-pig when it came to new techniques and treatments (for free no less).
My husband says, “Weeds again?” as I toss a baby lettuce and field-greens salad.
Grandma stared off in the distance— maybe a sea and lifetime away—as the voices of a dozen Mennonite children angelically sang, “…stille nacht, heilige nacht…” an old German song.
The icebreaker topic “what are your traditions/what are you doing for Christmas Eve and Day?” felt like ice in my veins. I told myself to buck-up and get my happy face on so I’d be ready to breeze through my turn.
I don’t like dogs. Tomatoes are gross. And I refuse to have regret.
They already have their Christmas lights up. Wrong. It’s just wrong.