This summer I’ve been wrangling with my sisters, PJ and Kate, over coffee. They claim that I don’t know how to make a decent cup of coffee–my coffee is “weak and bland.” I argue that when they make coffee it tastes like something dredged from the bottom of the Mississippi River. When we were on our wine-tasting trip in California last month, I woke up early on the first morning, so I made the coffee. They each poured a cup, doctored it with (ewww!) Italian sweet cream creamer, and promptly whined on the first sip. “Nan, your coffee sucks!” or “You do not know how to make decent coffee, sister!”…

No, not the movie from 2001. I’m talking about the song from 1960 by Ben E. King and the Drifters. I just heard that song on the car radio yesterday. Wow…how can you beat that music? I was a little girl when “Save the Last Dance” came out, but some of my clearest childhood memories are of hot summer days in the 1960s, spent playing in our front yard while my big sister had the radio on at full volume. I can still smell the Sea & Ski suntan lotion and see PJ and her friend lounging on the porch. Music, a chatty DJ, and ads for Rambler automobiles, Pepsi…

We just got home from a weekend at the lake, and are preparing for another work week. It’s hard leaving the lake–life’s so peaceful and easy there. Our comfort level increases each time we go up as we settle in and get to know our neighbors. We haven’t succumbed to getting a golf cart yet, but most all the folks in the park have one. Some are plain, some are painted bright red or have fancy additions like extra seats in the back or fun logos on the front. Yesterday, as I was cleaning the house, getting ready for guests who were going to spend Saturday evening and Sunday with…

I’ve been flying high from the Cousins Reunion all week–so many incredible memories were made last weekend! We all connected on a level that can only happen when you are family. I probably have a hundred stories to tell, but this is one that particularly delights me. Names, of course, have been changed to protect the innocent, although we’d have to look long and hard for one of those… We spent the whole weekend in the lodge, talking, laughing, eating, going through tons of pictures and memorabilia. We’d all brought photos, so at any given time, you’d find a group of cousins poring over pictures, magnifying glasses at the ready,…

…at the Bettyverse. A particularly significant topic to me this week because I’m preparing to head south for a family reunion that includes meeting cousins I’ve never met before as well as reuniting with loved ones. Come join the conversation…or if you choose not to comment on the website, please tell me your heirloom story here. Love to hear from you.

…or do we care less about housework as we get older? Once upon a time, Mondays and Tuesdays were housecleaning days at my home. I worked my rather round ass off scrubbing floors and bathrooms, vacuuming, dusting, doing laundry…the list was truly two full days of cleaning. And at least twice a year, everything got removed from my kitchen cupboards and my china hutch and was washed and put back away, all shiny clean. I reorganized closets at least four times a year, washed windows every spring and fall, and even got dust bunnies out from under the shelves in the garage. But things have changed. In the last few…

I’m no decorator, I have to admit that right off. But when we bought our lake cottage, I had a clear vision of what I wanted it to be. “Beachy” was the word I kept using to describe the style I was going for. I wanted lake cottage casual, beachy fun, you know…comfortable furniture, laying around looking like it doesn’t care. Gracious friends and family all helped supply us with things for the new place–dishes, pots and pans, canisters, sheets and towels. We were literally starting from ground zero, so we accepted any and all contributions to the cause. We also discovered the Wal-Mart home store. Wow! Husband swears the…