One of the greatest bonding rituals among female kind, is the sacred act of uncontrollable giggling. It's not just a chuckle, or shared laugh, or even a knee-slapping, gut busting howl. No, a true giggle is much more complex. If you've been lucky enough to have one with a fellow sister, then you'll be familiar with these key elements that makes up a real giggle. First, you have to share the same sense of odd, quirky humor that no one else in the universe understands. Like when my best friend Deb and I find it absolutely hilarious to make goat noises within ear shot of total strangers. It's very tricky to make the sound in a way that people can't tell where it's coming from. When we're out together with our husbands and the goat noises come out, our husbands suddenly don't know us. They hide their faces in shame and deny their own wives. But they just don't get how funny people's faces are when they think they hear a goat noise just walkin' d

I woke up this morning to a loud, familiar sound just outside my bedroom window. The low rumbling terrified me to my very core and in dreaded anticipation, I walked to the window silently pleading, Please don't let it be... The snow plow. A fresh layer of white had fallen on the the newly emerging patches of green on the ground. Now everything was again white. I love the snow, don't get me wrong. And it's beautiful too, it's just been... too white for too long.  I stopped by my husband's work where he was pulling a double shift on this President's Day. He told me that he wanted to show me something and took me to Thomas Edison's green house. I entered into a warm oasis of vibrant color amidst the never ending white. I couldn't stop taking pictures. I was especially struck by the shape the blooms made against the steamy, glass greenhouse wall. (Click on photos to enlarge)  One tiny orange, growing out of season.

When I tell people that my greatest musical influences are Dolly Parton, Bing Crosby, Patsy Cline, Randy Travis, Ray Charles, and Floyd Cramer, I usually get some puzzled responses, followed by, "How old are you?" What can I say? I grew up loving these artists and find myself inspired by their genius when creating my own music. I fell in love with Patsy Cline when I first heard the song "Crazy." And what I actually loved about that song at first, was not Patsy's amazing pipes, but the light, tinkling piano style of Floyd Cramer. After that, I was hooked on both of them. My repertoire quickly filled with their songs and became favorites among the crowd at Lee's Chicken in Lincoln, NE, where I played the piano all through college. Patsy's music became even more special to me because it was a shared interest for myself and both of my grandmothers. One of my Grandma Valencia's all time favorite songs is "Crazy" and whenever she came to Lee

"Reflection" by Elizabeth Grimes A million eyes, all looking at me. I’m terrified of what they might see. It matters not how I hide, or where. I can’t escape their watchful stare. I try to move, but feel paralyzed. And I’m pulled apart as I’m scrutinized. Soon it changes, after a breath. Now there’s only one spectator left. I reach my hand to touch the cruel eyes And suddenly realize I’d been seeing lies. It was water I felt. People, none ! The ripples made thousands out of one. Another truth! I see it clearer. A crowd created by a broken mirror. It’s only me, and was all along. I’m the only one who needs to like my song.

Eddie and I like to make a big deal out of each other's birthday's. For example, on my birthday I get to pick what I want to eat, where I want to go, and what I want to do. The other person has to make that wish come true, no questions asked and no complaining. Eddie has sat through karaoke night, eaten sushi, and spent the day at the mall for me. Well, today, we celebrated Eddie's birthday (his real birthday is on Sunday, but he has to work). I asked Eddie, "What do you want to do on your birthday?" The answer was simple. Nothing. I thought maybe he just needed some suggestions: Play a game of racket ball? Go to the park? Go out to eat? Go see a movie? Nothing. He wanted to do nothing. He didn't want to leave the house, or the couch for that matter. And so, in keeping with our birthday tradition, I respected his wish. We spent most of the day watching movies and eating junk food in between naps. At the end of the day I asked Eddie, "Did you have a go

There are times when I wonder if I'm living in a parallel universe. It's that intense feeling of deja vu when it seems like I'm living a past moment and present one all at once. Like that time on the subway when all five  senses took me back to the moments right before I jumped out of a C-130 in the Army - the way I stood, the jerk of the train, the smell, the cramped discomfort. Or the time I walked through my hallway in the middle of the night and heard Latin music blaring from what seemed like my bathroom. I swore I was dreaming, I even tried to wake myself up until Eddie reassured me I was already awake. Today I had another one of those odd sensations. I sat perfectly still and quiet. I adjusted the muscles of my body, my shoulders, my arms, my abs. I looked straight ahead. I took a deep and deliberate breath. I did this over and over. Each breath drew the same amount of air into my diaphragm. Each exhale relaxed my shoulders to same height. I found myself reciting t

“Everyone, please take some food home with you! We have too much!”  The director announced after a luncheon and music rehearsal. I grabbed my coat and purse and headed out the door when she stopped me again, “Won’t you please take some of these sandwiches home with you? I hate for them to go to waste.” I wrinkled my nose, not wanting to bring anything back to New Jersey with me, but she seemed so desperate, I humored her. “I guess I can take something to my husband,” I offered, knowing full well that my picky eater would never touch anything with tomato or lettuce on it. Nevertheless, I grabbed a six-inch sub from the neatly laid out platter and wrapped it in tinfoil. I shoved the entire wad into my purse and started home. I traveled uptown through the subway and then switched to the bus terminal, where I would continue to New Jersey. It’s a very familiar route to me by now, long, frustrating, and tiring, but then I remember how lucky I am to be able to commute in and out of New Y