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.
MAY 2-3, 2020
Share the Joy of Reading with
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
- IT’S DECEMBER? WHAT HAPPENED TO NOVEMBER?
- ODE TO ME BONNIE BLUE PLAID WELLIES
- THE CASE OF THE PURLOINED PICKLE
- MINDING MY Ps AND Qs – A Punctilious Quest
- MINING 4 MEMORIES IN THE LEAST LIKELY PLACE
- SECRETS, LIES, and SFOGLIADELL’
- IN HOT PURSUIT OF THE UNTETHERED MIND
- KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON – A Teacher Appreciation Dissertation
Member Since 2007
© 2012-2019 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.
PORTS OF CALL I FREQUENT
Tag Archives: Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner
The only thing missing from the stone tower resting up against a craggy cliff side along the southern California coast is a sixty-foot silken braid trailing from the top window slit to the rocky beach below. Well, maybe the thick, … Continue reading
Winter Dissolving crystalline crust decomposing evaporating
Certain words in the English language make me cringe. The short, staccato sound of them wrinkles my nose, puckers my lips, and stabs my ears. One of the two most wince-worthy in my book of offending words has recently sent … Continue reading
The phone rang once. A clipped voice answered, “9-1-1-what is your emergency?” “grr-rr—umph bwaa—maaa….” “I can’t understand you. Can you speak more clearly?” “grr-rr—umph *cough* bwaa—maa *cough—cough*” “Are you choking?” THUMP THUMP THUMP “An emergency vehicle is on its way—please … Continue reading
Quimmer. Stranded. Separated from his pack. About as visible as a grain of sand stuck to the smooth side of a seashell, the dog stands on a slab of sea ice floating atop the placid waves of Scorsbysund. Four days ago, … Continue reading