Carol S. Mann
Bits and Pieces
From Plutarch: Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.
I finally did it. I succumbed to the lure of Ancestry.com and the siren call of its TV advertising. Unable to resist its special holiday pricing, I sent for my kit. The compact box arrived with instructions on how to … Continue reading
Did you ever, as a little girl, dance with your father? You know. He held your hands, you placed your feet on each of his, and he waltzed you around the room. Remember? As you grew, he steadied you on … Continue reading
Some days I walk down the hall to the office thinking of other things I’d rather do than write. You know, procrastinator thoughts. Paint a room. Clean the garage. Pay bills. Other days I walk down the hall like I’m … Continue reading
We’d gone to Barnes and Noble at the local mall, had a chocolate milkshake at the food court, and were leaving that mecca of fine dining when, Boom, my husband took a tumble. He went down. Hard. I was a … Continue reading
What is it about the urge to revisit our past, either in our thoughts or in person? Why do we do it? What are we hoping to feel, learn, experience, see? A few years ago my husband and I decided … Continue reading