If homes could talk, what would they say? There’s a special kind of quiet in the forest. When there’s no human noise, I can hear leaves falling and rain dripping from the tree branches. It’s autumn.
The trees have grown up around me as we’ve grown older together. It’s my birthday—a special birthday, because I’m turning 40.
Now, you don’t have to say how young I look, for I know I’m showing my age. But that’s okay, because age means I have stories to tell—and there are so many I’ve lived through.
It began with Morley and all of her energy and enthusiasm. I was just a hand drawn rectangle on a piece of paper before she brought me to life. Morley and her dad worked with a volunteer crew to place one log on top of another until I was as tall as I am today. On my first Christmas, Morley decorated a small tree and we sat together and admired my shiny logs. She had dreams for me—a wood floor and a rock fireplace, but she wasn’t given enough time. Her hospital bed was placed in my small living…
After two summers working in a paper mill’s bleach lab, this college sophomore wasn’t going back. But how could I make enough money to pay the bills? My entrepreneurial boyfriend, Tom, had an idea. Granted, the idea came after I baked him a pecan pie, but I listened as he outlined a sensible plan.
He’d find buyers for pies we’d make. Easy money, I thought.
While we tackled college finals, we also filled out state business license forms and took our food handler’s tests. Tom negotiated with a bakery run by some recent college graduates—we’d use it after hours, while baking pies for the restaurant accounts Tom lined up. Mud Pie Company was born. See, I told you it would be easy.
Tom purchased supplies and I got rolling. Literally. Rolling hundreds of crusts. Tom measured and stirred pie filling. Money was rolling in too. Didn’t I tell you it was easy?
The hot June turned into a hotter July and blistering August. Pies came out of searing ovens by the tray full. Deliveries were made vi…
My sister and I are traveling to visit our aunt, the last remaining relative on our mom’s side.
My aunt is like a big kid. She never got the memo telling her to act her age. For her, it's fun to have fun.
As a child, she was rambunctious, and her parents sent her to a Catholic boarding school for a year. But she continually angered the nuns—following their strict rules didn't work out so well. She just couldn’t sit still—and eventually she stopped trying.
To call her accident prone would be mild. From being kicked in the head by her horse, to flipping her car off an overpass on the San Francisco freeway, she’s had her share of broken bones and bruises. But that just gave her stories to tell. Which she loved re-telling. And laughing as often as she could.
Helping others enjoy life has been her passion.
After a decade in college she earned a doctoral degree in Recreation. Mom always said she was an expert at fun and games.
But kids flocked to her—her silly songs and the game…