Our first team, Peter’s Formal Wear
The game of softball will always be special to me because that’s where I first came to know Sharon. Even though we grew up on the same street, it took years for us to connect.
As a tomboy, I lived to play baseball in the streets of our suburban home in Marin County. The boys and I dodged parked cars as we ran for fly balls; the manhole cover in front of the Brodnik’s house was our permanent second base. Continue reading
I’ve been in Spain so didn’t have a column the last 3 weeks. Maybe you didn’t notice…anyway, I’ll tell ya all about it later. In the meantime, here’s a column written when I was MJ (Married Janet).
I can’t say there are many personal features I particularly like about myself. To begin with, I’m three inches too short. At only 5’3” (and that’s stretching it a quarter inch) all my pants need to be hemmed.
My car seat is so far forward, the steering wheel appears impaled in my chest. And hiding those fat bulges isn’t easy because, let’s face it, there’s just less territory. Continue reading
I still remember that fateful afternoon. I was 8-years-old, walking home from school with my 10-year-old sister, when I learned there was no Easter bunny. She divulged it as if 
simply commenting on the weather.
In disbelief, I ran crying all the way home, anxious for my mother to dispel that awful lie. She tried, but to no avail. Once I allowed myself to reason, doubt crept in. Continue reading
Today I want to do a little venting about movie theaters. Well actually, more like the people in them.
Last week, Mandy (my movie-going buddy) and I saw a new release at a local theater. So far, so good. It’s when people started arriving that it turned ugly.
I went on an adventure this past weekend without ever leaving the house. Well, actually, it was the garage. I finally decided to delve into the stacks of old boxes filled with long-forgotten papers, dig into shelves of stored-away treasures and clean out musty cupboards…you get the idea.
I guess you could say I’m a bit of a pack rat, although I save memories, not junk (as some would say). So, with the exclusive goal of one day being able to squeeze something other than one car into a two-car garage, I threw on my sweats, some gloves, and armed myself with large green garbage bags. Then I dug in. Continue reading
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 