A Little About Me
I am an adventure seeking ponderer of the mysteries of the universe, writer of children's books (represented by Stephen Fraser of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency), and lover of anything involving armor, archery, or swashbuckling.
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- A COSMIC DELICACY OF GALACTIC PROPORTION
- BONTON POTATO CHIPS, 5 CENTS A BAG - A Retrospective
- CONFESSION OF A LATE IN LIFE WRITER
- GOING GREEN
- WHAT'S GOT MY GOAT TODAY? - The Pet Peeve That Got Away
- 'Tis Time For An Other 'Twas
- ALIEN THOUGHT FOR A FOGGY DAY
- 'TIS ALL HALLOWS WEEK...
- IF YOU COULD TURN BACK THE SUNDIAL...
- SOMEONE PINCH ME - I Think I've Woken Up On Mars
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
Member Since 2007
© 2012-2021 Donna Gwinnell Lambo Weidner
Punishment for ignoring said © is, at best, death by hanging from the tallest yardarm. Content may be shared for non-commercial use as long as credit is given to Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner and linked to http://donnaweidner.com All photo, art, and media content that is not my own are for representational + non-commercial purposes. I do my best to give credit where it is due.
BLOG-MATIES I VISIT
Category Archives: Essay
Have you ever felt like a unicorn? The odd-one-out? The rarity in the herd? In the children’s book writer’s world, I have. Unlike many of my contemporaries, I didn’t spend lazy summer days, dark, stormy nights, and every other waking … Continue reading
Marie-Anne Carolus-Duran would rather have been sitting in a dark and musty closet ensconced in a nest of her riding instructor’s malodorous paddock boots and picking lint bobbles from her Sunday frock than posing for a portrait with Yéti. The … Continue reading
BURIED ALIVE: HOLY GUACAMOLE – HOW I ATE MY WAY FROM UNDER AN AVALANCHE OF AVOCADOS SURVIVAL: ATTACK OF THE MUTANT MARS BAR *warning: article contains peanut reference I LOST 50 BAZILLION POUNDS IN 24 HOURS. YOU CAN TOO! The … Continue reading
Once upon a dreary Sunday many Mays ago, it was unclear whether Alice Wetherby-Pimms had quaffed the dregs of a liter of PLYMOUTH and nodded off under the Steinway or if the ten-year-old had passed out cold in the wake … Continue reading
Because our minds are not confined to the constraints of our craniums, a ride down the rabbit hole can be endless with its twists and turns, zigs and zags, steep climbs, and plummeting tumbles into a time-sucking abyss. You’re familiar … Continue reading
With a stinky stogie clamped between my teeth, I threw a crumpled trench coat over my shoulder, slapped my grandfather’s worn fedora on my head, stood on tip-toes and peeked through the window of the classroom door. Waiting for my … Continue reading
She stands facing the pale, windswept bay, tall and erect as the ancient redwoods poking through the shroud of fog folding over the mountain range behind her. They loom in the distance like a pack of protective brothers, chanting in … Continue reading
Why do I write? Good question. It’s not because it’s been a passion ever since second grade when Sister Ann Michael praised my poem I WANT TO BE A DOG for its wit, rhyme, and wild imagination, or the inclusion … Continue reading
Until I was six, I thought Uncle Sally’s name was Who-Gives-A-Sh*t. Everyone called him that – the neighbors, the few friends he had, his business associates, the family – even his mother, my Nana. She’d hoped the label wouldda’ forced her caro … Continue reading
It’s somehow fitting. The sweeping square is shrouded in silence, but for the dime-size drops of rain slapping the neatly laid cobbled stones under my feet. The typically bustling quad is empty too, except for the line of bicycles strung … Continue reading