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.
2020 ONGOING VIRTUAL FEST
Share the Joy of Reading with
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
- SOMEONE PINCH ME – I Think I’ve Woken Up On Mars
- A SUNDAY NOODLE
- CHOOSE A BOOK-TURN TO CHAPTER EIGHT-BEGIN WITH LINE EIGHT
- WHAT THE ICEBERG SAID
- TWO QUIRKS, A CONSIDERATION, AND A QUANDARY – a.k.a. Peculiar Pandemic Ponderings
- LEGO LOCKDOWN – THE STOWAWAYS
- THIS Weekend! Visit the BAY AREA BOOK FESTIVAL From Home!
- MOTHER LOVE – An Earth Day Tale
Member Since 2007
© 2012-2020 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.
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Tag Archives: Adventures of Alice Wetherby Pimms
Alice Wetherby-Pimms had a peculiar penchant for pickles. Be they sweet, sour, or dill, the child was mad about brined cucumbers. Chips, chunks, cubes, finely chopped relishes, halves, slices, spears, sticks and whole, no matter their shape, Alice craved them … 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
Alice Wetherby Pimms physically felt time pass in the coursing of her blood for as long as she could remember. Every second -tick, tick, tick- was like an invasion of needle-nosed imps nipping at the underside of her plump flesh. Each … Continue reading
Alice Wetherby Pimms knew it was in the library. The beautifully scripted note written in her dead mother’s hand said so. The child had checked all the obvious locations, though, and found nothing – places like inside her father’s green felt-lined desk drawer, the one he’d hidden the … Continue reading
What ho, a door in the forest? Looks harmless. Unless it opens to a land rife with malodorous trolls, attacking arachnids, or hellacious cannibals. Or it could hold nothing but a peek into the lives of the inhabitants of a neighboring town, as … Continue reading