I’m sure I wasn’t happy when Rachel became a wall artist. She was 18 months old at the time. In this column from 1984 I didn’t sound so upset, but I’m sure I wasn’t happy.
Listen today how I felt, or at least what I wrote that day.
Often I was frustrated at happenings in those days. It always meant more work for me, but today it’s just a great memory.
At least the kids always gave me something to write about.
Copyright 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved
There was a beginning. It was 1985 when Bob and his dad broke up their farming partnership and we created ours.
This column gives an account of how we came up with the name Sunnybook Farm.
The name seemed odd in the beginning, but after so many years, everyone (or almost everyone) got used to it. It was Bob and I after all. Sunnybook Farm was the farm. Sunny our attitude, well, mostly. Finally, the book addressed my writing. The name is all-encompassing.
I hope that clears everything up. Just remember to leave out the R. Sunnybrook will lead you in the wrong direction.
Copyright 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved
I was in my thirties when I wrote this column about sledding with three of our children. Sledding had always been a favorite activity of mine, too bad age has put that fun on the back burner for me. Just walking out for the mail is enough of a challenge for me when things are slippery.
I believe Bob only went sledding once with us. Getting up from the ground and then walking back up the hill was too much for him and his joints. When he did join us he preferred watching the fun from the car.
Still, I yearn for a fun swoosh down a hill.
Copyright 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved
Odd to think that I was thirty when I first stepped through the door of a hairdresser, but it’s true. Up until then, my mother took care of my hair cuts. It really felt odd making this change, but it had to be done as Mom was 5 hours away.
Before I tell you everything, listen to my column from 1981.
A few years ago, I gave up dying my hair, but every once in a while I get it cut. I can’t stand the weight of it when it gets too long.
I tried cutting my own bangs in a mirror once during the shutdown. That was a disaster as I couldn’t manage to work the scissors in the mirror. So it’s either get someone to cut my hair or look like a sheepdog.
That’s about it for today.
Copyright 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved