tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30373062011-09-15T18:33:28.940-07:00The Green MailboxA letter I mail to no one in particular.Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.comBlogger131100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-13140498980065621462011-09-15T18:33:00.003-07:002011-09-15T18:33:28.961-07:00Look. This green mailbox is still here. STILL here. Waiting for a letter. Who would have known?Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-31048201629382713182009-08-10T20:19:00.000-07:002009-08-11T08:44:59.856-07:00Kitchen Miss AdventureI am not a skilled cook. So I usually make easy, spartan meals--salads, rice & beans, roast chicken (the store actually makes that), sandwiches, crockpot soup. But occasionally I get an urge to do something more, preferably something healthy. I was inspired by eating with my friends this weekend on their sailboat out on Bear Lake. (The sailboat is another story, but it was Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-11208501668334116352009-07-30T06:27:00.000-07:002009-07-30T06:38:27.245-07:00Red Stripe, Blue MoonThe sweat dripped down the cold pint glasses. They had the perfect amount of foam--delicate white bubbles that he wanted to dive into. But first the photo. The world leader, the semi-famous scholar, the bewildered cop. Not the way he wanted to become semi-famous, not the way he wanted to meet his president.The next morning in a board room in New Jersey, they spread out the Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-83678834555919546272009-07-01T20:21:00.000-07:002009-07-01T21:05:35.401-07:00Hard TimesI'm fortunate to have a job with a very stable employer in the healthcare industry, so I haven't been affected much by the downturn. But as I walk my dog around the neighborhood, I see the signs of hard times everywhere.The man with the scytheNext door to our little condo complex is a large lot that used to have an abandoned house -- the neighborhood kids would dare each other to go in Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-78447792726708662902009-06-29T12:42:00.000-07:002009-06-29T13:25:10.727-07:00Five...No, SevenI don't suffer from any kind of severe OCD symptoms now, but about 10 years ago I came down with a nasty case of this disorder and had to take meds for awhile. Haven't been bugged by it for a long time. But it creeps up in odd little ways. Here arefive--no, seven--things that aren't so fun about having a slightly OCD brain:Counting. I can't help it...when I do the dishes, I count Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-91619164581415130092009-06-27T08:16:00.000-07:002009-06-27T08:40:32.274-07:00Cabbie RayA friend who's had a couple of really bad years decided she had to get out of town, get far away from anyone and everything, for a weekend. She's there now, sitting in a tent in the middle of nowhere. Using a telescope she bought at a pawn shop to look at the stars at night. Her hope is that if she escapes all distraction, all comfort, that she will finally be able to talk with God, Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-29669761033673931852009-06-24T13:19:00.000-07:002009-06-24T13:23:44.287-07:00Random ListsRandom things Chloe has picked up: My 5-pound dog Chloe loves to forage on walks—you’d think I never feed her. I think she just likes taking care of herself and the thrill of the hunt. Once she picks up something, she picks up the pace as well and urgently heads for home. She also loves to bury her plunder. It’s not so convenient when she does that in or under my bed, so I usually Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-21476981442640287112009-06-22T21:58:00.000-07:002009-06-23T10:18:10.405-07:00Boys are like hurricanesOf course, if you have a boy--or (gulp) multiple boys--you know this. But as a non-mom, I am repeatedly surprised by this fact, by the whirling energy they spin off, by the way my brain spins when they leave the house.My church runs a Kids Club on Wednesday nights for mostly neighborhood kids, mostly kids of immigrant families. I'm one of the leaders. Because I live in theSherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-35262309248454598492009-06-21T08:25:00.000-07:002009-06-21T08:59:57.519-07:00DadThe airwaves (This American Life, The Story, etc.) have been full of father-related content this weekend, it being Father's Day today. But oddly, almost all of it has been about estrangement--not knowing one's father, not being able to communicate, being wounded by dad. Perhaps that isn't so strange after all...dads can be more mysterious in their love than moms can, more difficult to Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-78229367405386095262009-06-20T17:16:00.001-07:002009-06-20T17:38:34.091-07:00Shopping I bought a lot of things today, even after reading an article about the cost of owning things (http://almostfearless.com/2008/06/02/the-10-unexpected-costs-of-owning-things/). First I picked up "Pray for Anna" business cards at Kinko's, then magnets to stick them to--we'll pass out fridge magnets tomorrow. The Kinko's/Office Max was close to my favorite thrift store in the Poverty Mall (Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-79781844107446186282008-04-03T08:57:00.000-07:002008-04-03T09:50:48.220-07:00Yes, I have a dogTen things I like about my dog Chloe:When I come home at the end of the day, she’s so excited to see me she leaps as high as my chest.Her fur is incredibly soft—it’s like an angora comforter.She loves to lick my hand, and her tongue is dainty so it’s a nice sensation.When she’s out on a walk, she prances.She cuddles up on top of my bed, at my hip, when I sleep at night.She hardlySherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-89288160420934782112008-01-09T08:16:00.001-08:002008-01-09T08:23:18.656-08:00Home again, Home again, Jiggity JigBack at work, and glad to see my friend Kirstin, She Who Makes Me Laugh. That could be her Indian name--Makes Big Laughs. It's hard to be without my mom, but my friends here at work make it easier, and it is a joy to see Shirley and fam, and Scott and Tracy and fam. (Shirley gets top billing in her family--I know it isn't fair, but there you are.) One way I Sherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3037306.post-72009167018002509612008-01-06T09:50:00.000-08:002008-01-06T10:01:32.168-08:00Mom is goneWriting from my sister's house, listening to music that my dear mother loved. She passed away on December 22, about two weeks ago now. It doesn't seem real yet. She was born on the longest day of the year, died during the longest night. Born in a log cabin in Burnt Fork, Wyoming in 1923, survived through a difficult childhood, married my father in 1946, had four children (three of whomSherrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17940626568996051356noreply@blogger.com0