This from the archives. And now that I read it over, I'm thinking that the quote below could only have been written by HST. So why did some guy named Ed Meece write it down on a scrap of paper, and why do I still have it 30 years on?

"I have no idea who wrote the following. 'Twasn't me. Could be a fella name of Ed Meece, whose name sounds vaguely familar and which actually appears at the bottom of the second little tiny sheet of note paper on which was written the following: Read more about Mystery Quotes

You may recall from a previous confession that sometime in the 1980's, convinced that the man I thought I loved could never really love me, I ran off with a No Good Boyfriend with a local motorcycle club which shall remain nameless here.

A club composed of a bunch of bikers can make strange (I want to say bedfellows here, but that could give a wilder impression than was actually the fact - only one of the "club" guys was actually a bedfellow). Read more about Little Pink Houses

Back when I was submitting chapters of to my writer's group, one set of criticisms from my fellow women writers set me back on my heels a bit.

Not only was my heroine not very kick-ass, an issue I addressed in another post. Even worse, she was too caring, too solicitous of others, too accepting of a traditional woman's role. She cooked too much. Read more about More Than

Labour Day Morning 2012 and I don't have time for something fresh so I'm reaching back once again to Labour Day 2004 when I was writing about November of 1962. Who says we don't have time machines? Read more about More Misty History

Earlier this year, in a piece I called Diversity on Ice, I waxed semi-eloquently on my wish to more fully understand the "other side." To talk with, listen to, and perhaps learn something valuable from Them.

I still think it's possible, but efforts in that direction have not been promising. Read more about Talking to Them

I swear, by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.

No, that's not another line from a Who song. That is the quintessential core of the philosophy of Ayn Rand, a devotee of whose is now hoping to be a breath away from the presidency. It's a philosophy that once held great appeal for me. When I was 16 or so. It stands at the core of what Rand called "the virtue of selfishness." Read more about Teenage Wasteland

There's a Jerome Kern song that runs through my head every once in a while and, when no one is at home, I sing it around the house. The Way You Look Tonight brings back a time that, likely, never was. I think of myself in my young college years and a man I said I would marry. Lovely ... never, ever change. This song is about somebody I wanted to be, but I changed. Read more about The Beautiful People

I'm spending Mondays cheating like hell - if I think of a whole new topic to write about, I'll spend the next two hours doing it, and there goes the day. And I'm giving a mega-party in less than two weeks. So these are pieces from a little blog I had on Blogspot once upon a time and which may have been read by two, maybe three people. As this one may be as well. I was taking pieces at random from a folder of stuff I saved (I actually have them labelled by year). This was 1985: Read more about Awash in NGB's

1985 - A farewell card from Doug - "It's rare to find an open mind. I love you for the freedom you've inspired in me." Amazing note to get from a biker. I inspired freedom in HIM? Hmmmm. Doug stories - almost too numerous to tell. I'll tell one. He was doing some time in the county jail for some traffic snafu or something equally meaningless. The jail was having some construction work done on the top floor (of what was a three-five story building, I don't remember which). Read more about Goodbyes From Green Bay

1983. A card from another long lost friend. Nancy. She had just returned from South America, and was living in Boston "but without a stable address" as so many of us were in those days. We graduated college together. I know I saw her a year or so later, back in Green Bay, because she called the day after my first beating from a now long-gone ex-boyfriend. She helped me pull myself together, and told me that her ex used to beat her as well. So many things were not out in the open in those days. I was embarrassed. How did I have the bad taste to pick someone who would beat on me? Read more about It Was All Material