PinnedInCrow’s Feet: Life As We AgebyDodie S·Nov 6Sixty Isn’t Too Old to Go DownGrey hair, deep water, and no plans to stop.A response icon2A response icon2
PinnedInGlobetrottersbyDodie S·Oct 18I Thought I Wanted Endless SummerTurns out, I’m a mountain girl.A response icon6A response icon6
PinnedInPromptly WrittenbyDodie S·Oct 3Breakfast at Our HouseAt least he wasn’t vomiting.A response icon2A response icon2
PinnedInThe ViragobyDodie S·Sep 27I Burned My Bra and Missed Baking the CookiesWhat sixty years taught me about feminism, motherhood and having it allA response icon9A response icon9
InRide the WavebyDodie S·5d agoI Quit Smoking Pot Decades Ago. Then I Went to Jamaica.At twelve, I smoked to fit in. At sixty, I smoked because I felt like it.A response icon1A response icon1
InCrow’s Feet: Life As We AgebyDodie S·Oct 25When Can I Call Myself a Writer?I’ve got the published stories, the rejections, and the self-doubt. What am I missing?A response icon6A response icon6
InQuirky RantsbyDodie S·Oct 22I Just Might — A Writing ChallengeMy mother told me never to tell these stories, unfortunately, I learned to writeA response icon4A response icon4
InThe Honest PerspectivebyDodie S·Oct 20The Little Girl On The BusWhy Morgan Freeman’s take on Black History Month still makes sense to meA response icon3A response icon3
InUnfiltered LivesbyDodie S·Oct 18The Day I Forgot My AtivanTwenty years of flying in fear, and the grief that took it all away.
InCrow’s Feet: Life As We AgebyDodie S·Oct 15The Little Administrative Insults of Getting OlderHigher insurance premiums, senior discounts, and other things I never asked for.A response icon4A response icon4