I noticed the post on Facebook suggesting that you remove the bottom of the pumpkin…
Widow’s Weeds 2: Sell My Home? I Live In My Home!
Do I want to sell my house? No, I do not. At least not now and not to you, whoever you are. That has been my answer to phone calls and what I would respond to the people who send letters. Vultures, the bunch of them. Carrion Eaters They read the obituaries and do the...
The Harford 100-Mile Biennial Exhibition: The Educator’s Eye
Marcia Gayle Snee is a wonderful artist and dear friend, so when she said her work had been accepted into a juried exhibition at Harford Community College’s Chesapeake Gallery, I was thrilled for her. Curious, also, about just what might be in the exhibition....
Dialysis 4: Mountains of Waste
Home hemodialysis ends. It always does, whether that person gets a transplant, changes over to in-center treatment or dies. Right now I should be mourning my loss but instead I am consumed by anger and disgust at the assault on the environment that home hemodialysis...
Widow’s Weeds 1: All That Time
Becoming a widow leaves me with an extraordinary amount of time. The Before Time I knew taking care of Dan was a full-time job: dialysis occupied four hours, four days a week, or a bit more. While the treatment itself, according to the computer in the Cycler, lasted...