I’ve been working with a web design company for my personal website, and I was given the task yesterday of finding a quote that could go on the site.  I found one I liked by Ray Bradbury, coincidentally one I had read and studied before in school.  While on my search though, I did come across this quote from Stephen King. 

It’s hard for me to believe that people who read very little – or not at all in some cases – should presume to write and expect people to like what they have written. Can I be blunt on this subject? If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time – or the tools – to write. Simple as that.
-Stephen King

I was blown away.  I couldn’t agree with that more.  I’ve always told everyone that my desire to write has come from all of the books I have read.  The hundreds and hundreds over time.  I once met a suppoused writer who told me he didn’t enjoy reading, he didn’t have time for it.  Needless to say it was evident in his writing.  Reading is our fuel.  It’s what sparks that inspiration, that idea we must put down on paper.  I long for my favorite authors to put out new books, and still go searching the bookstores for new authors when they’re not.  I enjoy reading, I could say, even more than writing.  To me reading is extremely important.

It’s the reason writers write, to be read.


The Gift

As I have mentioned before my girls are my life.  My eldest daughter turns 3 in November and I still can’t believe how fast she is growing up.  It’s amazing to sit and have full conversations with her, watch her dance and enjoy music, even the funny faces she makes when she tastes something she doesn’t like are an adventure.  I have dedicated this poem to her, wishing she would stay this tall forever.

It’s an attempt at a rhyme, so please bear with me…

God granted us this gift,
a heavenly flower to look after
who fills our life with joy and glee
and greets us with love and laughter.
She has grown, beautiful beyond belief
alive beyond her years
inadequacy always causing us grief
but always calming our fears.
Thank you for this great gem
for this spark of life, all of our own.
We promise to protect and to love her
even after she’s all grown.

tsk, tsk


I cannot start my week without letting out a loud sigh.  Oh the disappointment of watching the Eagles lose this week.  To me, this game against New York was pivotal.  It determined our standing in our division. 

And we blew it!  How do you let the Giants score 20 points in a quarter and a half?  Seriously!  And what was Donovan doing goofing off on the field? 

I have faith in my team, but this past week was not our proudest moment.  Hopefully we’ll do better next week…


A barren field
white with solitude
quiet with despair
no stalks or leaves or crumpled roads.
No falls or trees of any sorts.
Just cotton white, touched by skies
as white as light where heaven lies
no steps or trails, no horizon lines
where his old eyes fail.
Just white as bright as the morning light
A white as right, forget the night
A barren field
white with solitude
quiet with despair
with nothing to see as his old eyes fail.


Friday is HERE!!  Finally.  Isn’t amusing that as soon as Monday hits, we start our countdown to the weekend.  And for what?  Friday brings casual days and junk food dinners.  Followed by pancakes in the morning, playing with the kids, quality time at home, and maybe if you time it right a good book. 

Sunday sees you bright and early and depending on your pleasure, either the morning paper will greet you or morning worship.  Followed by an afternoon of football, a good movie and finally carrying the kids to bed.

I can’t wait…



As I reached for my jacket this morning, I felt a slight twinge of nostalgia.  Fall is finally here.  The crunch of fallen leaves, the crisp chilly air that whistles at you in the mornings.  Even the darkening horizon after a long day at work, is welcomed and longed for.  Soon it will be too cold for open windows and long walks, but for now we can embrace the feeling.  The sudden chill and the pull of the zipper after the heat and before the cold.

Autumn is here…


Traffic moved slowly, as the lifted gray clouds began to drizzle.  The miniscule drops, falling as slow as the snow, landing and staining the windshields, halting commuters, seemingly stopping the movement.  As the red lights burned before me, I wondered what was it about the rain that caused everything to move so slow.  The wipers smeared the water across my dirty glass causing me to strain through the streaks.

Let’s go!  The wipers seemed to agree.  The rain began falling harder, splashing and exploding on the hood and the roof of my car.  I looked over at the clock radio.

Damn Rain!  Im gonna be late…