Tag Archives: Kitchen

Changes Constantly Afoot

To say that the past several months were busy for me is an understatement. When last November rolled around, I consciously thought about making 2017 a Year of Change. January came, I turned the page in my calendar to begin 2017, and so it has been. I took on more worthwhile and enhancing activities, and worked on closing some tasks and projects that were dogging me for months – and in some cases, years.

I also:

  • will be published this month in a grand publication, which will include both my poetry and photographs (stayed tuned for when that happens!);
  • published several poetry chapbooks and a poetry anthology;
  • returned to reading books (almost) every day, and writing reviews;
  • am writing letters to family and friends more habitually;
  • ate more wisely, which leads towards me feeling better;
  • cleaned out my family recipe clippings, including duplicates and triplicates;
  • found just the right photograph albums to prepare organizing my pictures and memorabilia;
  • pared down possessions that either reminded me of people or events that are best left in history’s garbage can;
  • stayed off most social media, except where it benefits my writing and business;

“Optimism”
Original photography by (c)Susan Marie Molloy, 2017.

There is much more, many events beyond my control or even within my radar, but nonetheless made this a memorable year.  A friend with whom I needed to stay away from (remember the 2016 elections?) recently contacted me with hat in hand to apologize for contributing to fake news and hyperbole.  I’ll let bygones be bygones; I believe she’s sincere.

I am trying hard to let go of the aggravation of people not thanking. It’s beyond my understanding how there seems to be more and more people who just don’t thank, or even acknowledge, anymore. Letting go and understanding that it’s a matter of different upbringing – or something – has been difficult for me. I can’t change them, but I need to change my level of disappointment with them.

And now, here we are with a little more than eighty days left in 2017. Whether I get done all I set out to do or not, this was a productive and life-changing year for me. I don’t know what next year will bring; heck, who knows about what the next hour will bring?

All in all, I maintain that no matter what, changes will always be afoot.

©Susan Marie Molloy, and all works within.

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A Cookie Jar’s New Life

Many years ago, I received a glass cookie jar from one of my girlfriends.  It served as such, holding dozens of butter cookies, Pfeffernüsse, and other cookie delights over the years, especially during the Holidays. 

Then, since I grew to not enjoy desserts as much, it was relegated to collecting dust in my pantry.

I wanted to keep the jar.  But how to use it?

Under the kitchen sink sat a box of dishwasher detergent cubes, in an unattractive, battered cardboard box.

Then it hit me: The cookie jar!

It now holds all the detergent cubes it can.  It’s attractive under the sink, too.


This being a year I call “A Year of Change,” one of my goals is to get better organized and minimize the things I don’t use, this new life for my cookie jar fits the bill.  I keep a treasured gift, and it keeps working.

©2017 Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.


The Story of the Flaming Statue

The Replacement Statue

The Replacement Statue

Years and years ago, there used to be “missions” that would come to the parishes where I grew up. Visiting priests, mostly, and sometimes nuns, would spend a week or so in the parish. Tables would be set up in the church-school vestibule, displaying rosaries, prayer books, religious jewelry, and statues.

My parents gave me a dollar to buy what I wanted. I chose a small, tan-colored plastic statue of the Blessed Virgin and a small silver ring with a metal silhouette of the Blessed Virgin embedded in a mother-of-pearl oval, surrounded by blue rhinestones.

I kept the statue on my dresser, atop a small mirror. One year I sewed a veil for it made from netting with a beaded circular “crown.”

One day, my parents went out shopping and took my siblings with them. I got to say home alone. I liked that kind of time for myself, even at the age of ten. While they were out, I had the bright idea of taking a skinny, twisted blue and white birthday candle from the kitchen drawer. I placed it next to my Blessed Virgin statue (but I don’t remember what I placed the candle on). I lit it – no small feat for me, a young girl who was actually afraid to light a match from the matchbook. But, I thought, the Holy Ghost was with me, so what could go wrong?

The candle flickered next to the Blessed Virgin, and I went across the hall to the bathroom to flush the match down the toilet. I went back into my bedroom, and the Blessed Virgin was on fire!

I grabbed the statue at the base and ran back into the bathroom, and ran water over it in the sink. Flames doused, and now I had to get rid of the smell and the evidence before anyone came home.

I cranked open the bathroom window, and then opened up the bedroom windows. When the Blessed Virgin cooled down, I wrapped her in eight sheets of Kleenix and placed the “mummy” in an empty shoebox, then placed that on the closet floor with my shoes on top of it.

By the time everyone came home, I closed all the windows and there was no smell of burnt plastic.

About a week later, my Ma asked me where my statue was. I told her I packed it away for the time being. No big deal. It was only about ten years ago that I told my parents what I really did with the statue. They were speechless. (I would be, too. Too late to spank me.)

I kept the burnt up Blessed Virgin for years. In fact, I had it until the early 1980s, when I decided I didn’t need to have it as a reminder of my experiment with candles and flames.

One day, about two weeks ago, I thought again about that episode. On a whim, I did an Internet research, and found someone who was selling the exact type of statue I had: Made in Hong Kong, tan-colored plastic with gold painted trim, and in perfect condition.

It came in the mail yesterday. Funny, it seems so much smaller than what I remember. Yet, I like it and it’s exactly the same as what my original was.

Well, except there is no blackened and melted right side on this one. And I don’t have the silver and mother-of-pearl ring anymore.  That could be a greater challenge to find an exact replacement.
©Susan Marie Molloy, and all works within.


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