I’ve been feeling very lazy the past couple of weeks. First, I was all hyped up to start my blog and get back into writing. Now, I find it exhausting to generate content. Most of the time, I don’t even want to write let alone read. I am blogging right now through sheer force of will. (And by the power of the WordPress app.)

My pregnancy test is Wednesday and I have no idea how it’s going to go. I’m having weird symptoms but it COULD or COULD NOT mean that I’m pregnant. I guess we will see.

My vacation from work starts Monday and ends on the following Monday. While I love what I do, I’m looking forward to taking a break for a while.

I’m dealing with some terrible heartburn lately. Thank God antacids are safe for pregnant women.

Trying a new church tomorrow and bringing my son along. Let’s see what happens…

Fiction: Wives of the Main Line

This is a work of fiction. Saturdays are reserved for stretching creative muscles. This is my creative work; do not steal, do not repost without permission, do not reproduce.

Marah Miller called the meeting of the Main Line Wives to order at the Rosemont Country Club. The group was small and consisted primarily of four women: herself, Jazzlyn Follett, Patricia Langley, and Priya Karani. There were former members and other women who lobbied to become part of the exclusive, elite group of women who devoted themselves to social activities along Philadelphia metro’s posh Main Line suburban area. As president of the MLW, Marah was in charge of keeping up on social events for the ladies to attend and making sure the group performed stints at enough philanthropic events to appear as more than a high society club. But if Marah was really honest, they really were nothing more than a high society club putting on appearances. And these ladies weren’t just Main Line Country Club Wives—they were her inner circle of friends. Marah’s reason for exclusivity wasn’t simply a snobbish one, it was practical. Not everyone could be one of Marah’s close friends.Read More »

Fiction: The Journal

This is a work of fiction. Saturdays are reserved for stretching creative muscles. This is my creative work; do not steal, do not repost without permission, do not reproduce.

“And as America, we are obligated to keep this world free of oppression, free of tyranny and free for all people to make choices for themselves.”

John McIngham yawned and ran his hand through his short, brown hair as he listened to his father drone on about America and freedom.  He’d heard the speech a hundred times before—his father practiced reciting it to him, his mother and sister to make sure he had it perfect.

Everyone at the Bostonian Tea Cottage stood up in the room and burst into applause.  Frank McIngham, smiled, waved and gave his signature “thumbs up” sign to all in the room.

John rolled his hazel eyes as he stood up with his mother Marian and younger sister Caroline.  He clapped resignedly with not even the hint of feigned interest while his mother beamed pink with pride.  He glanced over to his right at Caroline—the perfect daughter, she grinned proudly as well, maybe hoping that one day, she too could be a great senator representing Massachusetts.Read More »

Saturday mood (SAD)

My mood has been yo-yoing. Some days I’m down; other days it’s not so bad. I suffer from seasonal affective disorder (SAD) so October is really getting to me. (I guess.)

I feel sad. For no real reason. I just am. I really have a great life. I have a good job, have a great marriage, an awesome kid, and I’m in relatively good health. But I still sometimes despair. And I don’t know why.