Praying for Prosperity

My friend Betsy prays for prosperity every day. This morning she asked me if I was trying to prosper through my blog. “Yes,” shot out of my mouth like a reflex. I didn’t want to seem like a dilettante. The truth is, I don’t think about writing and money together. I focus on quiet and
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seamless grey sky

Faith in the Sun

Last week the sky was replaced by a seamless blanket the color of danger. Rain flowed down the roof and into gutters with the steady pace of a metronome. Cast in black, my favorite trees looked arthritic with branches bent and crooked. I commune with the sun every morning. Today, I’d have to have faith.
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Losing Your One Track Mind

I’ve always been single-minded, putting all my energy behind one goal. It’s a strategy that helped me get into my favorite college and my first job in advertising. “No” was a throw away word if I really wanted something, a signal to start working on wearing someone down. I used to be relentless too, especially
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Rita’s Diversity Lessons

Mostly, my mom taught me to appreciate diversity through her actions. Never one to entertain mediocrity, she enrolled me at the United Nations Preschool. I remember sitting in a semi-circle with four-year-olds dressed in strange outfits, and it wasn’t Halloween. My Christmas gift when I was 5 was a huge loom handmade by Navaho Indians.
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Photo of My Mom The Petty Thief

Charge It To Anyone Else

My mother was a petty thief. Her favorite targets were my father’s brother and random uncles in her family. Back in the 60s, you could charge things at certain stores with the mere mention of a name. So my mom would buy me fancy outfits at Saks Fifth Avenue and charge them to an uncle,
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lentin roses in the morning light

In The Morning Light

Home alone this morning, I was excited about making a banana pancake and pouring real maple syrup from my new tiny ceramic pitcher. I sat down with the paper, my pancake set on a baby grass plate and took that first tender bite with my head bent toward the front page. And then I noticed
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Three Wise Birds

I am perfectly fine, focused on my next step and ready to be a writer. I am really angry, bone tired and sad. I am holding grudges and hurtful words, hoping they will marinate into something neutral. I spent three years working with blind determination on a home goods business, knowing all along that it
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Silence!

My daughter Emma and I just returned from a trip to New York City. There is an exhibit at the Whitney Museum of American Art devoted to the work of contemporary artist Frank Stella. I found a quote at the beginning and absorbed it as an affirmation to be a writer. “You can only take
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