I hosted my Talking on Paper writing group today with the 5-minute prompt being "If You Were An Exhibit At The Louvre, What Would Your Label Say?" (based on this buzzfeed article). Each of the six writers were so incredibly unique and creative with their responses.

This was mine:

I derive great pleasure from my monthly meetup with my Writing Group. September's seem even more meaningful.

Cindy, like all the Talking on Paper hostesses, provided a delicious brunch to fuel our morning of writing, sharing, and at different times, crying. It was surprisingly emotional.
The 5-minute prompt was "Write about a time you almost died but didn't. What did you learn from it?" I ended up writing about breaking my neck six years ago. I had no idea what powerful emotions still lingered after all these years. Wow.
We had two additional visitors join us briefly. Mr. B was a wise soul who listened patiently. Was he listening or anticipating mistakenly dropped morsels? Regardless, he was pretty dang cute. Also cute was my chauffeur, Steve, who visited because of the promise of delicious scones. No one left hungry!
While I can't attend every one of these first Tuesday of the month meetings, the ones in which I do participate always leave me inspired and with a sense of accomplishment. "You are the author of your own story. Make it one worth reading."

Before our next round of house guests arrive, I wanted to share what I have written for my next Talking on Paper writing group meetup.

Our writing group involves a hostess provided prompt for which we spend 5 minutes constructing a short essay, then reading it aloud afterward. I chose the simple, yet perfectly timed- The Sounds of Summer.

"There are few seasons which can boast such a joyous cacophony of sounds as Summer. The screen door slamming as bronze bodies return from a day at the lake. Giggles heard as fully dressed children run through a lawn sprinkler having been warned not to get wet but but secretly hoping for a cooling drench. The ice cream truck's familiar Turkey in the Straw announcing the need to beg one's parents for spare change to buy a Rocket Pop that then causes one to emit slurping noises only permitted outdoors. The long day ends with the hum of a fan easing the Summer heat as one lays, uncovered on the bed, hoping to be lulled to sleep so tomorrow arrives sooner."

I'm hosting my AAUW Talking on Paper writing group on Tuesday and I thought I'd share the piece I will be reading. It's quite the tome but I hope you enjoy a glimpse of younger Me.

When I'm alone in my car, my first music choice is iHeartRadio's 80s, especially if it's a weekend because the songs are aired commercial-free.

I am so pleased that I'm in town so I could attend my Talking On Paper writing group. I wanted to share what I wrote to read aloud.

Chester living it up before the chaos

With the recent death of my mother-in-law, I spent time reflecting on the several instances of loss I have experienced in my over six decades. Like anyone who has lived, loss is a natural part of life.

I thought back on my first experience with grief which was a direct result of my first experience with love. Chester Do Good Saffell was the runt of a litter of new Bassett Hounds chosen, and named, by my much older brother, Chuck. Chuck assumed his title of “Only Child” would endure forever. Chester was my parents’ second son. Boy and Dog spent several years of human/canine bliss before my parents shockingly expanded their family with two babies born within 10 months of one another when Chuck was 15.

For Chuck, Chester was probably a lifeline to normalcy. Needing to take him on walks was an escape from the chaos two children so close in age generated every moment of every day. He was a confidant, someone who would listen to Chuck’s list of all life’s unfairnesses. He loved unconditionally and truly was Chuck’s.

For me, Chester was a constant presence. He was there through my infancy, toddlerhood, and early childhood. He was the guard at the crib, the floor cleaner at the high chair, the support for a teetering new walker, and the warm comfort for boo-boos and timeouts.

I was the one, at age six, who discovered Chester when he died. Six. I remember it clearly. Even so young, I felt the loss.

Of all the loves I have lost, his presence was the shortest in my life. Perhaps because my heart was so small when he captured it, it filled a larger, forever space. Or perhaps as they say, we never forget our first love.

I am very fortunate to have a circle of friends who are truly amazing.

Our AAUW Talking on Paper group was hosted exceptionally by Mary Jo. What a morning of being in the company of amazing, talented, and inspiring women. I am creatively nourished by each one of them.

Our 5-minute writing prompt was, "Tell about your favorite holiday song, movie, or book." It took me a couple of minutes to come up with one but this is what I wrote: My favorite song of Christmas time is Silent Night. However, it isn't because of its lyrical sweetness or the images it represents. My fondness is due to the memories it evokes of my younger son's innocence as a toddler (photo above from 32 years ago).

When he had difficulty falling asleep, I would gently stroke the bridge of his nose. Then I would quietly sing, "Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright. Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child. Holy Infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace." I never seem to have needed to complete the entire refrain. Sleep in heavenly peace. What memories!

Afterward on a freakishly warm December afternoon in the Sierra, Steve and I headed to Emerald Bay for a hike.
The last time I was in the Bay was when I boat camped with Bob and Jenny (August 12, 2022). A month before, Steve and I had boated over with them for a flower Quest. Our last hike down was the May prior to the boating. So needless-to-say, we were way overdue to get to our Happy Place.
Heeding John Muir's advice, "Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt!"
They say that Nature is Vitamin N. Our entire hike made me feel euphoric. It was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Right?!
Eagle Falls had enough water flowing that we felt its power and positive Ions. Roland R Kemler said it best, "There’s no better place to find yourself than sitting by a waterfall and listening to its music."

Vikingsholm Castle was buttoned up tight but as we meandered we discovered old relics from its past.

I spent an incredible morning with the wonderful women of TOP (Talking on Paper), a writing group I joined right when we relocated to South Lake Tahoe. I've actually blogged about it 23 times. While I can't attend as often as I'd like due to proximity (me being gone), I am always inspired and nourished by this time together.

We even have members I hadn't yet met. This particular morning seemed extra special. Maybe it was because I had missed so many gatherings. What camaraderie. Wow.
Hosting gave me the opportunity to sharpen my very dull hostess skills. I served a new dish, Vegetable Strata, described as, "Perfect for brunch, this vegetable strata is a savory bread pudding with spinach, gooey cheese, and cubes of deliciously rich bread baked in creamy custard." It was a complete hit!
The icing on the cake wasn't actually 'icing' but a hail storm. I'll take any of the white stuff I can get.

Yes, I am "Loving Life"!

For me, the reason I document my life is best summed up by Anaïs Nin, "We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect."

I'm honored to be part of Talking on Paper, a group of women who encourage each other to taste life to its fullest and then share it.
We gathered at Cindy's gorgeous mountain home, with delicious delights provided by Karen, for our monthly morning of camaraderie.
Each member shares in completely unique ways with each gathering always providing surprises (and talents).


I chose for myself the writing prompt of "What was the last thing you did that reminded you of childhood or a recent activity you hadn't done since you were young?"

 I have been a member of SLT's American Association of University Women (AAUW) since we moved to Tahoe a decade ago. I belong to Talking on Paper, an interest group within AAUW, where once a month amazing women gather to catch up on life, share their wisdom, and to write. Today, I was the hostess.

After we spend time reacquainting and dining a bit, we write based on a 5 minute prompt and then read a selection of prose we had already prepared.
While in Coeur d'Alene, I was given this placemat sized 'Picture-Story Study Print' (c. 1965) by my mail loving friend, Barb. I shared it with the group and made our prompt simply Mail. Then for the next five minutes we wrote whatever Mail meant to us. What a delight to hear seven unique voices discuss one of my favorite things. Here is what I wrote:

There is something magical about a letter that arrives hidden amongst the propaganda and junk. A hint of it revealed in a colored envelop or a unique stamp. It's a mystery soon to be uncovered with its opening. I actually get a feeling of giddiness... what treasures lie within? How uplifting a simple rectangle, which traveled across the world or just across town, can be. And that's just the feelings of receiving postal goodness. I derive at least as much pleasure in the act of sending. Sitting alone with my thoughts and excessive (I need them all) writing supplies, I savor putting pen to paper. I picture the recipient's surprise after trudging to the mailbox to then discover a gift waiting. For that is what a letter is to me, a gift.

Eunjin Jang said it best, “Life is bearable when you have someone to write, and someone who writes you back. Even if it's just one person.”

Tomorrow, I host my AAUW Talking on Paper writing group. This is what I wrote to share. I guess it's Memory Monday today.

Since it was my turn to host our AAUW's writing group. Talking on Paper, I chose to utilize my delicious souvenir from SF's Chinatown... fortune cookies.

The prompt, for our five minute writing, was for each person to chose a Fortune Cookie and write about 'how you made the fortune come true' or 'how can you make it a reality'. The cool thing about it was that no two fortunes were the same so we each shared incredibly unique works.

"You shall attain great wisdom with each passing year."

I wrote: It seems that as I get older, I am gathering friends who are more mature than me (translation: have had more birthdays). When my sons were young, friends were chosen because of commonality: shared classes, scouting troops, or karate classes.

Now it seems, friendships are formed because of more adult/active interests: writing, hiking, volunteering and travel.

The gift of these older friends is the unique and wise perspectives they share with me. Since they have experienced life longer, the wisdom they impart is thoughtful, sage and highly appreciated. I truly am attaining great wisdom with each passing year through my wonderful friendships. What great fortune!

Our AAUW Talking on Paper group had a meet-up with Joan's Yuba City writers in Old Town Placerville.

Seven of us dined together to share our stories. What fun. “It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.” -E.B. White, Charlotte's Web.
We were excited to pass the Highway 50 Wagon Train. Established to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Gold Rush, a Wagon Train was formed to travel west from Lake Tahoe to Placerville (Old Hangtown) along Highway 50. This one time event was so popular that it resumed in 1951, and has made its annual trek each year, ever since.
There is always something special happening in the Sierras.