I got a call from a friend of mine this weekend that touched a chord with me. She recently turned 60, her mother just died, her daughter may have found someone with whom to share a life, and she has permanently resigned a volunteer position she has held, with distinction, for many, many years.

Last weekend she held a huge yard sale, offering up not only items from her mother's life but long-held items from her own. And she was feeling iffy about it. This year, for her, seems to be a year of letting go of things. But she isn't yet certain if there will be something to take their place. Read more about Depression or Ennui?

There are few things I miss about Midwestern weather. And given this summer, I blow the earth of Seattle a kiss each morning as I greet another day that will, perhaps, rise to somewhere in the mid-70's.

But there are, actually, a few things I do miss. I miss towering thunderstorms (sans tornadoes). I miss sultry summer nights, when the heat of the day lingers in a light sheen of soft moisture on one's skin. I miss peonies. Read more about A Dream of Peonies

It's Jerry Garcia's 69th birthday, a number which doesn't mean nearly as much to me as it once might have done. I mean, I don't know if most 69-year-olds celebrate the occasion with a stab at the old switcheroo. But then again, I live alone. What do I know? Jerry probably would have given it a shot. Read more about Happy Birthday, Jerry!

Pardon my French. Hi there. My name is Barbara Stoner and this is my Bookhouse. In case that sounds familiar to any of you, [amazon 9990409455 inline] is the name of a series of children’s books edited by Olive Beaupre Miller, first published in the 1920’s. My set was printed in 1958, when I was 15, which doesn’t seem right because somehow I remember devouring all of them, one after the other. I probably did. Even “In The Nursery.” Where else can you find a copy of “Wynken, Blynken and Nod” these days? Read more about C'est moi!