Category: Stories

I’m crushed to report my site was recently hacked. Why anyone would want to do this is beyond me. I’m told it was probably part of a group of hacked sites. Nothing personal! I haven’t gone through all the posts with a fine-toothed comb, but it looks like the posts, but not the design, are intact. I’m hoping to restore the original but it doesn’t look likely at this moment. Well, life goes on.

DEAREST PLAYGROUP FAMILIES,  I’ve decided that next year will be my last.   Once again, I have a wonderful group of kids.  I’m in the midst of writing/posting a longer note, but want to take my time with it. Much love, Judy Note:  I would love if anyone who’s been part of the playgroup at any point and felt inspired, would write and post something about their memories of Judy’s Playgroup.

I received the following gift from a long-time friend, Tony Mitchelson, who sent me a poem last week for the holiday season. I had been to one of his readings in the past, but realized I didn’t know the meaning of the word “Linyak.” I asked him what “Linyak” meant and he just sent me the following: “Linyak is my revised spelling of the word Lagniappe which is a Creole word which means to ‘give…

My daughter, Sara, and her husband, Doni, have created a wonderful life on a farm in Plainfield, Vermont.  They raise beautiful and healthy pigs, primarily, and have the meat humanely processed.  They sell their delicious products in Vermont, also delivering to Manhattan and Brooklyn once a month.     This may seem shamelessly self- and family-promoting (I guess it really is), but suffice to say I am immensely proud of them and their pure intention…

I’ve always had playgroups that run from 9:30 to 1:30.  Part of the reason, in the beginning, was I could drop my daughter, Sara, off at school, come back and have the playgroup, then pick her up later.  Another, enduringly important reason, is and was, so parents could actually get something done before returning to pick their child up. Knowing parents who were raised in other countries also informed my decision.  Kids are in the…

For three years exactly, my family had the privilege of four generations:  My mother, Frances, me, my daughter, Sara and her daughter, Audrey. My mother died the morning of  August 13th.  It was also Audrey’s third birthday.  Life is a poem sometimes. Frances was born on May 23, 1922 in New York City.  Her father died when she was very young, leaving my grandmother to raise her intelligent, beautiful, shy daughter by herself.  She parlayed…

I’m so lucky to be spending the summer in Vermont on the farm (quillpigfarm.com) with my daughter, Sara, son-in-law, Doni, and their daughter (and my spectacular granddaughter), Audrey, who will turn three only days from now.  My goodness, time flies.  And life is good. They are raising pigs and meat chickens, and have twenty egg-laying hens (and one rooster!).  As Audrey says when asked where the chickens and pigs from last year are:  “They’re in…