A warm welcome to you! I’m Diane Dean-Epps, your host for my blog featuring my sit-down standup style of humor with a side of reflective, slide-of-life subject matter.
My overall jam is writing. It’s how I make sense of the world and, truth be told, how I sometimes process the fact that the world makes no sense.
I live and work in northern California where I perform in both scheduled and unscheduled performances, highlighting my love of dancing, singing, acting, and mortifying my children. What I lack in talent I more than make up for in enthusiasm.
🔖Bookmark this page, so you can visit / read at will OR…why not subscribe to my blog by tapping in your email address in the box below?💌That way you can receive an email ping when a new blog drops. 🛋️Your choice, Dear Reader.🫶 P.S. It would seem I’m also channeling Lady Whistledown from Bridgerton. You haven’t watched it? Okay, never mind.
I’m a garden-variety northern California baby boomer, teacher, writer, Mimi and Mama-to-the-second power who is sitting at my computer on Sunday afternoon, fingers pounding out a staccato song of outrage. Words are my most powerful weapon in what is, clearly, a fight to preserve our freedom. As I learn more details about Saturday’s killing by…
My elders would yodel out just about any exclamation to avoid using profanity. My grandmother had several folksy non-expletives, one of my favorites being, “Well, wouldn’t that just frost you?!” It was all about tone. Since the Crusades we purposely minced words in an effort NOT to take the Big Guy’s name in vain, resulting…
❓Let me first answer the question you will ask shortly, which is: Are you nuts? 🐾 Answer: Clearly. I believe this is well-established. You see, my husband and I decided in the wake of the passing of our beloved dog son, Gordy, we’d adopt a puppy. At Christmastime. 🎄 When it’s very cold, rainy, and…
Trees. Oh, converter of carbon dioxide, emitter of oxygen; rife with all manner of positive symbolism such as growth, life, and knowledge. They’re genuinely nature’s good guy. Until Christmastime, that is, when regular ole evergreens transform into seasonal symbols eliciting spirited debates. That’s when the Douglas fir really starts to fly, and away we go…
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Diane Dean-Epps, Writer 