I’m not a true died-in-the-wool, year-round chocoholic . . . and yet, when it comes to the day of red hearts and cupids, I go nuts for chocolate.  Sure, you could say that I’m just a puppet to marketing and a pawn in the game of retail consumerism.  And you’d be right; I am.  I admit it!  And I always have been — at least on this Saint’s day. (more…)

Every year I wrestle with my ‘weary-winter syndrome’.   Even though I’ve had nearly 30 years of northern winters, my native Texas bones long for warmth and light.  Like a honking Canadian goose, I have the urge to fly south for the winter.  I know that more daylight is slowly returning, but it just ain’t returnin’ fast enough up north (if ya know what I mean). (more…)

I’m standing right beside him as he lifts a small glass, raises his hand high and pronounces, “God bless us, everyone!”  The audience, predictably, lets out a collective, sympathetic sigh.  This holiday season, I have the pleasure of playing Tiny Tim’s mother for nine performances in ten days.  I watch him offer the famous toast; I choke back tears as I experience his death; and I watch from the wings as Scrooge makes his famous transformation. (more…)

“I’ll have chocolate milk,” Channing said sheepishly.  He gave a nervous cough, as if embarrassed for ordering a ‘baby’ drink.  My 15 year old son, now taller and smarter than I am (well, ok, so he’s been smarter for awhile) was embarrassed to order his special treat beverage at this ‘seasonal meal with mom’ (SMM). (more…)

When I was a kid growing up in Dallas, we spent Thanksgivings at my granny and grampy’s house.  No one could make a pumpkin chiffon pie (cool whip in the batter) better than granny.  When I was a teenager, we spent Thanksgivings in New York City – going to the Macy’s parade and seeing Broadway shows.    And when I was married to my first husband, we spent Thanksgivings eating his signature meal of turkey, red cabbage, and apple pie. (more…)