by Denice Moffat | Inspiration
What’s On Your Schedule?: I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I’ve tried to be a little more flexible. How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn’t suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word ‘refrigeration’ mean nothing to you? How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched ‘Jeopardy’ on television? I cannot count the times I called my sister and said , ‘How about going to lunch in a half hour?’ She would gas up and stammer, ‘I can’t. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain’ And my personal favorite: ‘It’s Monday.’ She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together. . .
by Denice Moffat | Inspiration
The Little Boy and the Old Man: Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.” Said the little old man, “I do that, too.” The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.” “I do that, too!” Laughed the little old man.
by Denice Moffat | Inspiration
House of 1000 Mirrors: Long ago in a small, far away village, there was place known as the House of 1000 Mirrors. A small, happy little dog learned of this place and decided to visit. When he arrived, he bounced happily up the stairs to the doorway of the house. He looked through the doorway with his ears lifted high and his tail wagging as fast as it could.
by Denice Moffat | Inspiration
Helen Steiner Rice work: Life on earth is a transient affair just a few brief years in which to prepare for a life that is free from pain and tears
Where time is not counted by hours or years. . .
by Denice Moffat | Inspiration
The Wooden Bowl: The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
by Denice Moffat | Inspiration
The Yellow Shirt: It’s just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!’ I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.
