WHERE WILL I BE NEXT SATURDAY?
When we lived in Maine, I would always be stuck inside this time of year anyway, the house buried under a few feet of snow, the rhythmic sound of Richard's snow shovel outside (swish, swoosh....swish, swoosh), my feet bundled up in two or more pairs of socks, and a big, thick sweater wrapped around me. Sometimes, my fingers got so cold that I'd wear my fingerless mittens inside while typing each day. So, yes, while I still miss the snow at Christmastime, I don't any other time and I certainly don't miss that bone-jarring chill that would go on for weeks on end... …


WRITE YOUR MEMOIRS IN 2013! WE'LL SHOW YOU HOW!