by Leisa A. Hammett | Jan 16, 2012 | Art, Autism/Disability, Divorce, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond, Spirituality, Technology/Blogging
…This is the blog post that once upon a time I dreaded writing. Back last early June when I moved out of the house I shared with Husband 2.0, I dreaded the thought of coming here and posting this very personal and once very painful news. And then, over the...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jan 9, 2012 | Art, Divorce
"Enough is abundance to the wise." ~ Euripides Growing up, our house was frequently full of company. Sunday nights after church, mother served cake and coffee to a slew of lively conversing adults who swarmed around the kitchen table. She hosted a share of...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jan 5, 2012 | Autism/Disability, Divorce, Grief & Loss
Swiftly, we entered my condo and like seasoned professionals began a triage of sorts. Instead of doctors, it was The Wuzband and I and the patient was our 17-year-old daughter with autism. She'd just had oral surgery to remove her wisdom teeth. I pulled out old...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Jan 3, 2012 | Divorce, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond, Motherhood, Nashville!, Spirituality
There's the standard fare of black-eyed peas (the edible version you stir in a pot) and greens. Opening and closing a door to let out the old, jumping from a perch at midnight to leap into the new….And while I usually incorporate those fun things into the...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Dec 29, 2011 | All The Rest of Life, Autism/Disability, Divorce, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond, Motherhood, Nashville!, Spirituality
Western Lake, Grayton Beach, Fla., Fall 2009, copyright: Leisa A. Hammett "I am aware, there is but One Life, I am this field of creative potential in all Its' power, glory and possibility. "I accept there is always a way to greater good. I act like it,...
by Leisa A. Hammett | Dec 15, 2011 | Divorce, Grief & Loss, Midlife and Beyond, Motherhood, Spirituality
Pandora played carols quietly in the background. Cider simmered wisps of cinnamon and clove into the atmosphere. With our fingers, we consumed chunks of warm, moist gingerbread. It had been about Christmastime last that we three had met like this. Only last time we...
