Karen Anderson

Here's the thing about lists: they fool me into thinking I’ve already done what I only wrote down.

It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The line was long and my temper was short. Gratitude was not on my list.

What I most want for Christmas is for someone to say: “Tell me about your mom.”

Everywhere I look, something needs fixing.

Her name was Nelle but I always called her Miss Curry. She was my teacher, as long as she lived—and longer.

“Egad,” I shriek, “I just took a cat treat instead of my calcium!”

I will never plant my garden again without sturdy little petunias.

I set up a canvas chair in my back yard, but before I can turn around and sit down, my cat has leaped into it. I could remove Rosie, of course, but if you’re a pet owner you know what I do.

My first year in college I met a fellow who was a couple years older... I was dazzled by his attention—so dazzled that I couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t see him at all

My mother told me that when she was a little girl, there were times she couldn’t sleep at night. “I would lie in bed and imagine that somewhere in the world a single gas station was open,” she said.