Michele

Ladies and gentlemen, I may have outdone myself. This delectable pan of scrumptious goodness is the ultimate baked spaghetti. No joke. Hands down. A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! But this post isn’t really about the baked spaghetti; it merely served as a nice segue I think. I received a text at 6:41 am this morning. Generally speaking, when I […]

Fairy tales have never really been my thing. As a kid, I suppose I enjoyed Cinderella as much as the next little girl. But I wouldn’t say I was ever excited; I never really bought into the whole thing. I did, however, thoroughly enjoy The Wizard of Oz or a Sunday afternoon, after-church viewing of

The turning of another year often finds us reflecting on incredible joys, profound loss, and everything in between. I’m no different in that regard. I’m also guilty of setting goals and then pooping out by mid-February. So here I find myself again. Looking back. Examining. Frustrated at some of the silly and downright ridiculous things

I don’t remember how old I was; that dreaded first year of not believing in Santa. I also don’t remember how I responded. Was it catastrophic? Did I have a meltdown? Did I take it in stride? And although coming to a realization about Santa can certainly be a pivotal point in life, there’s something

Christmas music conjures up mixed emotions. For some, the sooner it starts playing, the better. For others, please don’t even bother. And then many of us fall somewhere in the middle. Personally, I enjoy and appreciate most Christmas music. I can listen to Harry Connick, Jr., Elvis, Mannheim Steamroller, Amy Grant, a good jazz ensemble,

It all started with a question. Dawn and I have been friends for several years, and we have a mutual “friend” in Chris Fabry (radio host on Moody). Chris often posts or poses questions in advance of his programs to kickstart things. This was the question: “What memories does the song I’ll Be Home For

I looked at the calendar this morning and suddenly it’s December 1st. How did that happen? This time of year has the ability to hijack our lives and turn us into someone we barely recognize.  There are school programs and live nativity, Christmas lights and parties with friends, extra food to make and mounds of

WARNING: Although a little sketchy in the details, no one was harmed in this story. This time of year usually means more time in the kitchen. You might find yourself hosting or taking a dish to share. Maybe you’re known for the “best” deviled eggs or the unmatched oyster dressing. Perhaps you claim no apron-donning

Well, it’s here. That time of year that brings mixed emotions for many of us; definitely for me. The flowers are long past their peak. The days are short. The landscape lacks color as the bleak and drab neutral colors invade our view. The chickens all but stop earning their keep. The mower has been

I received this picture from my Aunt Carol (actually, she’s not really my aunt, but you don’t want me to explain that today). I’ve been drawn back to it many times over the last several weeks. She lives in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and was evacuated due to the wildfires. The picture seemed to connect with