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I Could Never Do That!

(Scrapbooking is Easier Than You think)

by Star Geisz

When you consider the above picture, what goes through your mind? Maybe you think “I’d really love to do a scrapbook for our family, but I just don’t have the time.” Or maybe you feel you’re not creative enough. Or perhaps you worry that your energy level would never permit you to complete albums. Or maybe you even feel that the monetary investment is more than you can afford.

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by  Janelle Meraz Hooper

When our children were young, I had a friend who told me that it was time for her five-year old son to go to school — she had taught him everything she could.

I looked at it this way: the teachers could teach my daughter all of that 3-R stuff — I was never good at it anyway. I could teach her about fine literature, art, the history of oriental carpets — and how to make tiny guest soaps from little plastic muffin pans and a microwave.

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by Ed Williams

Kids these days really have it made. I know this gets said a lot, but it’s the truth. They have it made, and then some.

I walked in on my two grocery killers yesterday afternoon, and they were talking about how they might spend the evening. Their conversation went something like this:

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by Dave Maez

I don’t watch the news; it’s boring and takes up too much of my precious time. I don’t read the paper; it takes way too much time and has too much useless crap in it. So how do I stay in touch with the world? I listen to Morning Edition and All Things Considered on NPR. It’s always top-notch reporting and relevant news. Every morning on my way to work, and every afternoon on my way home (to the bar) … I listen to my NPR.

I used to, anyway … before they went on strike. Except they have a special name for their strike: It’s called a “Spring Fund Raiser.”

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by John Fern

“We don’t need a pool table!” my wife told me, after I’d mentioned that there was a good deal on a slate-bed, eight-footer in the classified ads.

“I know! I was just making an observation while reading the newspaper. If I saw a Mercedes Benz in here for a hundred bucks, don’t ya think I’d mention it? It doesn’t mean I’m gonna run out and buy it!” I assured her.

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by Gerald Bosacker

School vacation was already one week old, and nothing exciting had happened. My new Buck Rogers rocket watch said it was at least nine o’clock, and my cousin Billy was still slopping down breakfast. I made tons of noise while waiting outside on the back steps hoping that would speed him up. Already too late to go fishing, but we probably would try anyway. We hadn’t caught anything but bullheads so far, and they were the only fish I couldn’t eat, even if I had both caught and cleaned the ugly mud puppies. Billy would and did, though. He would eat anything yet he was as skinny as I and almost as tall. Except for Eunice and Mirabelle, I was the tallest kid in sixth grade in Le Center, Minnesota.

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by Janelle Meraz Hooper

I had plowed through an endless sea of dirty used Toyotas when I saw her. She crouched in the corner of a used car lot like a big navy blue crab on the bottom of a dusty ocean. This car was so dirty I couldn’t even tell she was a Mercedes, but I could tell she was special. She had a style the new Mercedes didn’t have. To me, the new ones just screamed money; this one purred class.

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by C. Stell

I am not at ease giving advice.

I’ve made too many mistakes and most of them I keep repeating.

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by Janelle Meraz Hooper

Author of:

One of the best things that can happen to a serious writer is to find an active, supportive writing group whose members have goals similar to yours. At their best, these writers will listen to your query letters, synopsis, and chapter problems and be able to offer constructive advice. Chances are, it’ll be much more satisfying than asking the plumber who thought he was just there to fix the leaky faucet. Or, the glazed look you get at the dinner table at home when you ask for your family’s help.

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by Ron Collins

There’s a place here in Columbus. Our family considers it Mecca. It is an important place. It is a place of many visits, a place of celebration and of solace.

What is this place, you might ask? Is it a church, or a park, or some other such place of meditation and beauty?

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