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My stomach rumbles.Plates of cookies, cake, and fudge.Christmastime is here.

Richelle E. Goodrich

My stomach rumbles.Plates of cookies, cake, and fudge.Christmastime is here.

Richelle E. Goodrich
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Do it again.Play it again. Sing it again. Read it again. Write it again. Sketch it again. Rehearse it again. Run it again. Try it
Richelle E. Goodrich
Thank you, Mom, for the way you managed yourself during the childish, mean, selfish, insensitive, irresponsible, unreasonable, hateful moments I put you through. From your example I learned to be patient, positive, kind, selfless, sympathetic, reliable, sensible, and loving. You have my endless appreciation.
Richelle E. Goodrich
To laugh continually is to never laugh at all. For it takes the periodic sound of sorrow from which to distinguish the sound of joy.
Richelle E. Goodrich
On Hallows Eve, we witches meetto broil and bubble tasty treatslike goblin thumbs with venom dip,crisp bat wings, and fried fingertips.We bake the loudest cackle crunch,and brew the thickest quagmire punch.Delicious are the rotting flieswhen sprinkled over spider pies.And, my oh my, the ogre brainsall scrambled up with wolf remains!But what I love the most, it’s true,are festered boils mixed in stew.They cook up oh so tenderly.It goes quite well with mugwort tea.So, don’t be shy; the cauldron’s hot.Jump in! We witches eat a lot!
Richelle E. Goodrich
When you open your mouth, listeners are offended.  When you close your mouth, the expectant are offended.  If a person seeks misdoing from you they will find it regardless of whether or not you deliver. 
Richelle E. Goodrich
As I quietly stare off into space, eyes glazed over and brow thoughtfully taut, know that I am going about my business.  I am a storyteller.  Daydreaming is the best part of my job.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Son, I hope your opinion of your mother hasn’t lessened, knowing what you now know.”tGavin glanced up; incredulity skewed his eyebrows. His expression appeared both stunned and appalled. “Never, Father! I love her! It makes no difference to me where she came from.”tThe man nodded, a show of relief in his features. His large hand, soft in touch, went to brush a string of hair away from his wife’s peaceful profile. “Your mother loves you too, son, more than anything in the world. She worries about you, day and night.”tThat sentiment stirred something profoundly pleasant inside the boy. He grinned at the internal warmth it created.
Richelle E. Goodrich
Marriage is a million piece puzzle, a pristine and exciting pursuit at the beginning that gradually becomes a daunting task, usually more challenging than anticipated.   It is only those truly committed to solving that puzzle who witness in the end the miraculous outcome of every tiny piece laid out and pressed together in an inspiring and envious creation—a treasure only time, resoluteness, and perseverance could create. 
Richelle E. Goodrich
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