Stephie Smith never dreamed of becoming a writer until a series of her humorous essays about family were published behind her back. Unlike most things done behind her back, this one she actually liked.
And now she writes.
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Baby birds chirp, hummingbirds slurp, and I write
Am I negative or are you just a jerk?
I have all of my Great Aunt Louise’s diaries, which she began back in 1926 when she was just 27 years old, and I have found myself so touched by her writing that it’s difficult to speak of it or even to read the passages aloud to myself without my…
The Art of Thriftiness
It seems that no matter how old we get to be, we are never too old to be taught a lesson by our parents. At the top of my mother’s list is the art of thriftiness. Hardly a visit goes by without a small lesson in this art. I’ve tried…
Raising Serial Killers
I guess I’m raising serial killers. Don’t they say serial killers start out by torturing small animals? Okay, so I’m talking about my cats, and the small animals are lizards, snakes, butterflies and frogs. That doesn’t make it any less painful—for me anyway. I know it’s all part of nature—this…
No Common Sense
How could two people with no common sense be married for 48 years without killing themselves, each other, or any of their six daughters? It must have been divine intervention. As I was growing up, I didn’t realize my parents had no common sense. They were both intelligent people, so…