I love my Sunday mornings with you, Edie. I always have your voice and that of Tommy Euland's in my Sunday morning inbox.
This week I especially loved the piece about ashtrays. I, too, grew up with ashtrays all over the house. Mom's cigarette butts had red lipstick on them. These sentences sum it up so beautifully: "It is an ashtray. That’s all it is, and I don’t want it. “You don’t want that,” Momma has told me many times, so I try not to."
I love my Sunday mornings with you, Edie. I always have your voice and that of Tommy Euland's in my Sunday morning inbox.
This week I especially loved the piece about ashtrays. I, too, grew up with ashtrays all over the house. Mom's cigarette butts had red lipstick on them. These sentences sum it up so beautifully: "It is an ashtray. That’s all it is, and I don’t want it. “You don’t want that,” Momma has told me many times, so I try not to."
Why you? Because I need to read your stories.