The M&M Story

I've never been one to stringently follow the rules or conform too much to the next best thing.  Sure, there have been moments when someone says go right and I head left and oops, maybe I should have gone right. And there was that time in 7th grade when all the girls had these wedge shoes called Yo-Yo's, and my mother wouldn't buy them for me. But for the most part, the freedom to create or invent or re-arrange has blessed my life immensely. Mosaic art has been around for centuries. It was the Ancient Greeks that took it to the next level and raised it to an art form. They used the pebble technique with precise geometric patterns to create detailed scenes of people and animals. The styles and skills evolved through the years, but the art of making mosaic has generally stayed the same. Small pieces of glass, tile, stone arranged together to create a picture or design or pattern. Each piece being important to the whole design. Several summers ago, I was in a small group t

Watermelon is sliced and served on the back patio. Max:  "Watermelon is my paradise."

'Tis the season.  Ceremonies, parties, dresses, gifts, diplomas, celebrations.  This spring I attended a high school graduation (professional) and a grad school graduation (personal--but not me.  My sweet hubby.)  I loved hearing the clickety-click of high heels as young girls, soon to be women, dashed down the hall to their place in line, hand grasping their cap.  I loved watching big boys, soon to be men, walk across the stage and nonchalantly glance around the room to find mom and dad. So much joy in the accomplishment. A milestone reached. The end of a season, so to speak. But now what?  Graduation may well be an end of season, but in many ways, it is just the beginning. Excitement.  Anticipation.  Expectation. And the beginning of anything isn't easy.  It takes perseverance, boldness, and strength.  It takes creativity, tenacity, and endless, consistent prayer. It takes patience and lots of breathing exercises to keep from hyperventilating and drinking at least o

Briggs' published story from the winter---this was written on his own, not for school.....I think the last line is one of my very favorites ever. The Lonely Cat By Briggs Maynor Once there was a lonely cat. He had no mom and dad.  And he had no Home. Nobody wanted him. He was so cute. I love him. But he had a basket that he snuggled in and he had a stuffed animal. And he had a baby that was so cute. I wish I could have him. The Next day I got him!! I adopted him! I was so happy I could hardly breath.  The End. Published Date--December 2010

Writers write from what they know.... Max Maynor #9 31 March 2010 The Brave Dragon          Once upon a time in England during the Middle Ages, there was a brave dragon named Briggs.   He lived in a castle with a prince named Max and a princess named Carsyn. Prince Max and Princess Carsyn were in love. They were happy because they were friends and liked to play with each other.   Their brave pet dragon Briggs always kept them company. The castle was near a forest and there was a dwarf named Susan who used to live in the forest but now lived in the castle for her protection from the evil king’s army.          One day Princess Carsyn was on a horse ride in the forest and the evil king Todd jumped out from behind a tree and kidnapped her. He took her to the evil castle on the other side of the forest. When Prince Max found out she had been kidnapped, he snuck through the forest to the other side. Prince Max tried to rescue her by fighting the king. The evil king stabbed Max in his l

On Easter, Max was not at his best.  He actually spent the afternoon on the couch, completely uninterested in food. On the Monday morning after Easter, he shuffled out of his room and announced: Max:  "Mom, I can't go to school." Me:  "Why, honey?" Max:  "Well, I feel like I have seaweed in my stomach, at least one beehive in my throat and a jackhammer in my eye." With that, he shuffled back to his room and crawled under his covers. Interesting symptoms.  I wonder his diagnosis....

Yes, I think so. If it didn't, I might want to crawl under the covers and go back to sleep for say, the next forty years of my life.  The Easter season holds powerful lessons for me.  Many, many moons ago, my father entered the gates of heaven, unexpectedly in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. It was about three weeks before Easter.  Nine years ago, Max, my creative, funny, and often poetic first born joined us in this earthly life. It was about two weeks before Easter.  Seven years ago (three weeks early), Briggs, my strong and so lovable youngest son was born, and it was about a week before Easter.  And then six years ago, my sweet first husband--Brian--was diagnosed with terminal cancer in the rainy days of March. It was about three weeks before Easter.  This time of year.  It is often a tornado of emotions and feelings and joys and sorrows and blessings.  And promises. And I don't mean I-promise-to-buy-you-an-ice-cream-if-you-clean-your-room kind of promise. More l