tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3947186837821390412026-10-17T17:52:40.892-06:00Celebrating life through words and stories ...Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.comBlogger712125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-15284760413601410262014-12-06T14:56:00.000-07:002014-12-06T14:56:04.684-07:00

It’s been another year of firsts and lasts, bests and leasts! While it would be entirely possible to fill several pages with our highlights (and a few lowlights), we thought it would be a little more fun to present you with a quiz.  Ready, Set...What Do You KNOW?!! Connect the Kellum with the Correct Answer: #1 -- Favorite Meal/Food: a. Pizza on the Grill (and an impromptu

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-73272930028278764482014-10-23T14:42:00.001-06:002014-10-23T14:42:47.864-06:00

"Alright, pipe down, ya newbies!" Swifty stiffened as she craned her neck toward the center of the circle. Hovering a few feet above the field was the toughest looking fairy she had ever seen. He had the face of a bulldog, his jaw thrust forward and his eyes glinted in the lantern light. His grey hair was buzzed close, flat on top and bristling. As he barked his orders, Swifty felt every muscle

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-11139663292537529172014-10-15T09:54:00.001-06:002014-10-15T09:54:54.310-06:00

Swifty landed soundlessly in the grass and tiptoed to where Snap sat, joining him. Folding her legs, criss-cross-applesauce, she cleared her throat and waited for him to turn his head. Snap didn't move. Undaunted, Swifty scooted to her right a few inches until she bumped into Snap, giving him a gentle nudge. With a sniff, Snap shifted further to the right and mumbled something, his words lost in

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-86245219359576624782014-10-08T12:47:00.001-06:002014-10-08T12:47:13.040-06:00

Swifty allowed Pip to tug her down several of the front steps of the Gnarled Log before shaking free from her friend's grip. "Pip," she protested, "I'm going to fly with Snap." Turning back toward the cafe entrance, however, she was saddened to find herself alone. Snap was gone. "He went off that-away," Murt made a vague gesture toward the darkness with his broom as he swept the front step,

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-72771527576973437482014-10-01T12:44:00.003-06:002014-10-01T12:45:13.180-06:00

I perch on the bench to tie my running shoes, waiting for Becca and Emily. There is a definite chill in the air this crisp fall morning and my icy fingers don't want to cooperate at my second attempt to double-knot my laces. I hear their laughter before I actually see them: my fellow runners, both dressed in lycra pants and sweatshirts. Their breath turns to frost in the air. "It's about time

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-31013423391022099982014-09-25T15:48:00.002-06:002014-09-25T15:49:01.228-06:00

Pushing her food around on her plate, Swifty was relieved when Dot eventually finished his tale. There was a murmur of approval from the surrounding fairies. "Oh my goodness, Swifty! Weren't you terrified? I would have been shaking in my wings! And you, Dot, are so brave! Taking on that owl single-handedly. You're amazing!" Pip positively glowed as she beamed across the table at Dot. For the

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-65472817145224639722014-09-11T20:21:00.002-06:002014-09-11T20:21:47.581-06:00

"Are you sure this is the right lot? I'm can't imagine using this space for the Mayor's reelection rally. I mean, look at these weeds," Captain Trent gestured to the waist high tumble weeds covering the rocky ground. "How are we supposed to get this cleaned up before Saturday?" "I'll check the message again, Sir, but I think this is the place." The driver pulled out his phone and scrolled

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-83063500012347248862014-09-09T16:59:00.001-06:002014-09-09T17:00:03.069-06:00

Pushing open the oval door, Swifty stepped into the hollowed-out trunk of the old maple tree. She was greeted by the tinkling of the bell overhead and a cacophony of voices. The Gnarled Log Café was full of fairies both young and old tonight. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered over the heads of the fairies already seated, searching for Pip and hoping that her friend had indeed saved her a seat.

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-29569724926181212042014-09-04T16:17:00.003-06:002014-09-04T16:17:46.104-06:00

Swifty brushed dirt from the folds of her skirt while Dot crept back under the rose bush from which he had just pulled her. He had gone in search of her beaded bag, adding to Swifty's humiliation. "Of all the fairies in Frog's Hollow, it would have to be him," she mumbled to herself, incredulous at finding herself once again in debt to Dot. "How is it that he just so happens to be flying by when

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-23017238712951941122014-08-28T16:28:00.001-06:002014-08-28T16:28:14.433-06:00

The pursuing owl let out a piercing screech, filling Swifty with fear. Peering through the gathering dusk, she spied a hedge that surrounded the meadow of sunflowers. If she could make it to those rose bushes, she was certain that she would be able to squeeze between the thorny branches and find refuge, but there was still a lengthy distance to cross and with each beat of her predator's huge

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-61582444455831123772014-08-27T16:56:00.002-06:002014-08-27T16:56:29.435-06:00

The sun had begun to set as Swifty flew out from between the sweeping branches of the ancient willow tree, leaving Miss Flit to finish grading papers. Her grin stretched from ear to ear as she glided over the lush meadow below. With a squeal, she dipped and dove, unable to contain her joy. "This is it!" she shrieked. "After tomorrow I'll be able to presto-chango from fairy to butterfly and

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-59527249343392641392014-08-26T14:02:00.000-06:002014-08-26T14:02:02.406-06:00

Swifty twiddled with the buckle on her bag before speaking. "It's just that, um, I was wondering if, uh...I w-wondered if it would be p-possible for me to come in early t-tomorrow morning and work on my butterfly charm." The last words tumbled out in a rush. Swifty lowered her eyes and studied the floor. "I j-just thought that maybe if I had some help, I could have it all figured out by the first

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-20988523778867998782014-08-25T17:22:00.004-06:002014-08-26T13:39:35.106-06:00

The melodious warble of a goldfinch floated through the open window, signaling the end of the day. "Alright class, that's all for now. Please tidy up your desks and push your stools in. Harmony, I need your homework from yesterday's lesson on the proper methods for telling twins apart. And Glisten? Please work on your penmanship. I need to be able to read your homework if you expect me to give

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-11694934044556651992014-08-22T14:44:00.001-06:002014-08-25T17:19:12.135-06:00

Only Miss Flit's voice could be heard in the school house that sat nestled in the knot of an old maple tree. Twenty-three fairies, heads bent over their papers, scribbled notes, trying to keep up with their teacher. "So as you can see, class, it is extra, extra important that you keep your bag of jitter glitter well stocked. You never know when your child might experience additional bouts of

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-862717223601534142014-08-21T15:09:00.000-06:002014-08-21T15:09:21.511-06:00

Swifty glided through the open window of the miniature schoolhouse and landed without a sound on the old wooden stool at the back of the room. She was late, as usual, and hoped Miss Flit hadn't noticed. Of course, that old hawk-eye had. "Nice of you to join us, Swifty," Miss Flit clicked her tongue. Swifty's already pink cheeks flushed as she mumbled an excuse, eyes downcast. Miss Flit peered at

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-59805923094448337212014-08-19T21:00:00.001-06:002014-08-19T21:00:36.978-06:00

"Oh! My feet are killing me," Myrtle moaned. "You ought to kick off those old sling-backs and stuff them in your handbag." Gertrude responded. "I can't stand here in just my stocking feet," Myrtle whispered. "No doubt Penelope would see me and share that scandalous tidbit with everyone and I'd never be able to show my face here again. Ever since she told Betty about the terrible crush I had on

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-86230867952794269532014-07-17T16:12:00.001-06:002014-07-17T16:12:20.960-06:00

Grandma Ruby adjusts her eyeglasses, peering at the knitting needles grasped in her gnarled hands. Squinting, she counts her stitches and scowls. "I dropped another stitch," she grumbles. "This blanket'll be skeedaddled if I don't pay better attention." Lost in the cushions of the overstuffed chair across the room, Aunt Beatrice shakes her head. She looks up from the pink baby blanket in her own

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-75746286596605789462014-06-28T16:04:00.002-06:002014-06-28T20:52:20.480-06:00

Dear Mom, Thanks for the package. Unfortunately, Mr. Bulliman was in charge of mail call and he makes us "pay" for our packages by doing something embarrassing. I had to massage his stinky feet. Gross!  I washed my hands ten times before they finally smelled clean.  I guess the homemade cookies from Granny made it worth it. I ate them for lunch. We've been busy and I've made a

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-49536579799229839072014-06-09T14:58:00.001-06:002014-06-09T14:58:44.562-06:00

Thunk! The movers slam shut the door of their oversized truck. They clamber into the cab just as the engine roars to life. Then they're gone. I look around the garage filled with boxes and furniture; a labyrinth of cardboard snakes past me into the house and through each room. The dust has settled on the delivery of our possessions, but there is plenty of work to be done. I wander through the

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-2339158217091191412014-05-21T14:24:00.003-06:002014-05-21T14:44:14.150-06:00

Maggie flipped on her directional and checked her blind spot before changing lanes. Settling into the driver's seat, she tried to ignore the loose spring in the cushion that poked her in the back. It had taken 100 miles for her to adjust to driving the big moving truck, but now she felt like a pro. Rumbling over the bridge that stretched across the expanse of the Colorado River, Maggie reached

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-50749469747132514572014-05-20T14:32:00.001-06:002014-05-20T14:32:35.826-06:00

The market was crowded. Merchants with their loaded carts yelled above the din, filling the hot arid air with shouts. "Olives! Oil cured olives!" "Figs! Finest you will find!" "Fresh herbs! Dried fruit!" Anatha ducked around a cart laden with cured meats, avoiding the grasp of the watchful merchant. She didn't dare stop to see if the officer was still following her. Clutching the stolen hunk

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-32839998813186243582014-05-14T14:36:00.000-06:002014-05-14T14:36:34.445-06:00

Ben closed his eyes and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he started with a simple shuffle-ball-change, warming up his feet. And his audience. Rat-a-tat. Rat-a-tap. Tappity-tap. Tap. Finding his rhythm, he lunged to his left and then jumped to his right, feeling the old pine floor beneath his shoes beckoning him to speed up his steps.

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-22928371072864771282014-05-09T10:58:00.001-06:002014-05-09T10:58:45.944-06:00

From one sometimes-snarly-and-snippety-mom to my fellow moms out there...who I assume are sometimes snarly and snippety, too. You are, right? It's not just me? Whew... ------------------------- Recently I read a list about the many hats we mothers wear and it made me smile. It also made me tired. In this roll call I recognize many of my day-to-day demands: I am... a mom, a personal

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-35672066743430385002014-05-07T22:16:00.000-06:002014-05-14T14:36:53.514-06:00

Opal dove beneath the waves, swimming just below the surface, the roar of the water filling her ears. Popping her head up above the water, she blinked her eyes rapidly and looked around, spotting Pearl perched upon an outcropping of rock a few yards away. Letting the current tug her along, Opal swam slowly toward the coral encrusted reef, careful to avoid the knife-like edges of the jagged rock

Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02173810987391935584noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394718683782139041.post-14111077301665106922014-04-27T15:02:00.000-06:002014-04-27T15:02:32.672-06:00

Standing in the shower, I tilt my head under the coursing water in a vain attempt to drown out the squeaking voices just inches away from me on the other side of the vinyl curtain. In spite of having the faucet turned on full-blast and my ears full of shampoo suds, I still catch snippets of their giggles and squeals. “So much for my spa-like experience,” I mumble. “Girls? I need to you to

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