A weblog devoted to spurring a conversation among those who use words to varying degrees in their daily work. Hosted by John Ettorre, a Cleveland-based writer and editor. Please email me at: john.ettorre@gmail.com. "There comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and only those things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real." --James Salter
Getting to theI'm a Cleveland, Ohio-based writer, editor and writing coach, with more than 25 years of experience, including stints in Chicago and Washington, D.C. My work has appeared in more than 100 print and online publications, from the New York Times and the Christian Science Monitor to local and regional publications. My work has been recognized by awards (including an Emmy) from four journalism groups.
4 Comments:
My mom never wanted to leave the house unless it looked presentable. I used to take after her.
Sounds like the proverbial mom who cleaned up the house to make it look nice before the cleaning lady came.
But did she use plastic covers on the sofa like my mom did? That little detail always makes me laugh whenever I think about it. Suffice to say, we don't have plastic on our sofa.
No. Even though she liked to make sure the house was clean when we left it, she was a very laid-back mom. She never stopped my brothers from playing Flying Wallendas on the sofa for example.
She always respected anything her mother gave her, though. Grandma gave us a couple of nice end tables. Mom would go ballistic if we didn't use a coaster.
My mom's mom was more fastidious. We had to take our shoes off (in the street) (just kidding) and we had to set a couple of towels underneath our placemats. We always cracked up about this.
Ah, no word quite like that marvelous word "fastidious." Doesn't that just conjure up a whole way of being? It certainly does for me. I can see your grandma in my mind.
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