This One Isn’t Handwritten

Tuesday, March 31, 2026

Dear Slicers,

Thank you for the 31 day writing adventure. I appreciate you for showing up every day and writing with me, taking me into your world, and showing me how I can, we, can still do this. Each year I believe it will get easier.

It doesn’t.

What it does, is bring us together to share a bit of ourselves in this big, often perplexing world. Perhaps it isn’t the world that’s perplexing, but the human behaviors that make it so. The world holds us in it. We can choose to make it spin one way or another.

I began year seven with a handwritten Sunday letter, inspired by The Correspondent: A Novel by Virginia Evans. Know what? It feels odd not to write this letter on paper. I suppose the analog life is pulling me back, a little at a time. And that is a good, good, thing.

March did it’s thing and marched right over me this month. Slowing down helped. Writing every day helped. Your stories helped.

Did I read more posts this time as I planned? Nope. Since I’m practicing slowing down, I’ll continue popping in to read posts I missed along with catching up on replying to your comments.

Thank you for your ideas, book recommendations, new knowledge shared, and new connections made. If you’d like to receive a letter in the mail some time as I continue with The Sunday Letter Project, I should be able to see your email address if you comment or reach out. We can exchange addresses via email from there.

Regardless of when we meet again, on Tuesdays, a Sunday, or next March, be well.

Write well. Write often. Write much.

Sincerely,

Alice

P.S. I returned home this evening from my librarian conference with a stack of books. My next book on my TBR pile is The Shippers: A Novel, by Catherine Center. We did a little line dancing yesterday before she signed our books. That sounds like an analog and whimsical spring activity. Line dancing. I’m not good at it, but it was fun!

What are you reading?

Blank Canvas, Blank Page

Today’s keynote speaker: John Leguizamo.

In his on stage interview, discussing his children’s book, Kiki and the Can, he was asked, “What does a blank canvas represent?”

“Opportunity.”

His book is about a young boy, Kiki, using a spray can to express himself through urban community art.

“The spray can is what you plan to do with your talents and gifts,” Leguizamo continues.

What if we frame this same question around a blank page? Rather than view it as intimidating, what opportunity does a blank page hold?

Frida @ MFAH

Sunday, March 29, 2026

Dear Slicers,

We’re almost done! Short and sweet today-I’m at TLA conference. Before getting to the hotel, roomie and I went to MFAH to view the Frida Kahlo exhibit! I’m fangirling! This is a portrait of her by Diego Rivera-new to me. It’s incredible to see the Queen of the Selfie at her ORIGINAL finest!

Sincerely,

Alice

Whimsical Spring

Before everything currently green gets shriveled in Texas’ summer heat, which started last week, there’s a sweet spot of cozy spring days. Still cool in the mornings, pleasant through the day, and cool evenings. Bugs haven’t started swarming yet and junebugs don’t crash head-on into your forehead if you’re sitting outside. Mosquitos haven’t started sucking you dry either.

Last spring I finished watching Gilmore Girls. I never watched it when it was in season. It screams cozy fall vibes. Is there something for spring? I’m the type of person who watches shows well after they premiered and ended, so I’m clueless about newer shows.

A family member recommended The Madison and I enjoyed the first episode. I’ve started Downton Abbey twice, but need a less chaotic schedule to chip away at it along with the two episodes I’ve watched of Bridgerton. I need to refrain from multitasking while watching TV.

If Gilmore Girls is the go to series for cozy fall vibes, I think rom-coms fit cozy spring vibes. Perhaps the term I’m looking for spring is whimsical. S. watched Father of the Bride a few weeks ago, perfect for spring. Prom season makes me think of my favorite, Pretty in Pink.

For now I’ll continue with The Madison, although it isn’t whimsical. Any recommendations for a series I likely haven’t watched to fit the season?

Blizzard of Bucks

I frequently talk about how I rarely win prizes or get chosen for things. As random as prizes can be, so are some of the prizes I have won. Or were they opportunities? Either way, as a kid I watched one too many episodes of The Price is Right, The $10,000 Pyramid, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy! Press Your Luck, you name it, I watched it. Stuck in Texas with nowhere to go, being on a game show has usually been only possible through watching on TV.

Zoom forward several years from my childhood days to college. Student services once sponsored a game show called The Blizzard of Bucks. Think along the lines of Minute to Win It games, but with money. A group of friends decided to go and I tagged along. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but watching a non-televised game show sounded better than a lame Friday night study session.

Taking our seats in the audience, the host explained the rules. There are games and several rounds. Lose a round and you’re eliminated, everyone else advances until there’s one left standing. The lone winner gets a minute inside a booth with a ton of cash. Get as much as you’re able to collect in one minute and you get to keep it. Of course, there are rules about what is and isn’t allowed when grabbing at the cash. Once the timer starts, so does the power blasted fan, sending cash up, down, and all around inside the booth. This will be fun to watch.

What we didn’t know is contestants would be chosen from the audience. No one needed to sign up and they didn’t take volunteers. The Price is Right style! I didn’t expect getting selected. My friends cheered for me and I had no idea why. After realizing my luck, I walked to the set-up in front of an audience seated in folding chairs, taking my place with other contestants.

The first game is a blur and I don’t remember not losing, but my friends cheered even louder. I made it to the next round. Okay, well, not expecting much, let’s get on with the next game. The host walks out with a baby bottle explaining what to do. These will be filled to the top. 8 ounces.

I’m losing this one. I hate milk!

All contents must be fully consumed, no spitting it out.

Oh no, I hate milk

The game crew returns with baby bottles for each of us. They’re filled with orange juice.

Juice? Orange juice? That’s my favorite.

The timer starts and we tip our bottles. This is easy. I start chugging. I hear my friends go hysterical. They’re cheering my name and I gain momentum.

Chug, chug, chug!

There’s a giant hole in the nipple of the baby bottle so I’m swigging it down like it’s in a cup. I finish it off and put the bottle down. Other people are still chugging, or trying.

I look at the money booth. Is this real?

Advancing to the next round, we get more directions. This time, each person gets a marshmallow. It has to stay in our mouths while we say “chubby bunny.” It must be pronounced properly and the audience has to hear it. They’re checking lips to make sure they touch at the b sound. Don’t eat the marshmallow. Marshmallows will be added until there’s one person left.

Marshmallow number one.

“Chub-by b-unny.”

My friends roar.

Marshmallow number two. I strategically tuck the marshmallow into the opposite cheek.

“Chuhh-by buhh-ny.”

I try to suck up the drool that’s sliming out of one side of my mouth. I take a peek at the money booth. Can I fit another marshmallow in my mouth? They’re bigger than they look.

Marshmallow three. I tuck it into my right cheek. Nope. I didn’t pay much attention to placement the first time. Can I shift it just right into the left side? I do my best to tuck it in and take as deep a breath as I can.

“Chwah-wee, wah-wee.”

“Oh no! So sorry, you almost made it!”

The audience lets out a sigh.

I swear I heard The Price is Right horn walk me off the stage.

A hulk of a guy next to me popped the third marshmallow in his mouth.

“Chubby bunny!”

As I get back to my seat, my friends high five me. They’ve had a great time and remind me how I got so close. We watch the marshmallow guy get into the booth to try his luck at the cash. Money swirls around him as he swats at bills filling the space around him like confetti, trying to grab them by the handfuls.

I didn’t make it to the money booth, but it was an unforgettable experience. My consolation prize was an Igloo cooler with a canteen. Not too shabby for a Friday night.

When I Was a kid

When I was a kid
I wanted to live inside Jeanie’s bottle 
and travel by magic carpet

be chosen as a contestant on 
the Price is Right 
get slimed on Nickelodeon’s 
You Can’t Do That on Television
make it to bucket number six on 
Bozo’s Grand Prize Game
walk off stage with a pile of prizes, 
a brand new bike

When I was a kid
I wanted to eat SpaghettiOs
we never had in our house 
raise cute little sea monkeys 
what would I name them? 
shrink myself to ride 
Mister Rogers’s trolley
go on a real field trip with him
feed his fish

When I was a kid
I wanted to 
sit on the steps of a brownstone
on Sesame Street 
even though I might have been 
too old
dance in a fire hydrant’s fountain
releasing its cool spray
on a hot summer day
claim the top bunk
at camp
write letters home by flashlight
swat at mosquitoes on 
my neck 
sticky with sweat

When I was a kid
I wanted to explore the woods and
Frank Lloyd Wright’s 
Falling Water
even though I didn’t 
know about architecture 
listen to babbling brooks 
as snowmelt
swelled streams and creeks and rivers
I wanted to wave at Santa 
from Broadway
at Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade
catch snowflakes on my tongue
wave at the camera
to kids watching from home
ride a subway

When I was a kid
I wanted to teach the 
world to 
sing
in perfect
harmony

and then I grew up

March Madness

It roars like a lion and doesn’t stop. Out like a lamb? I think the lion will eat it.

I’m not much of a sports fan, but hubby watched the UT men’s basketball team make it to the Sweet Sixteen. I don’t watch because I’m afraid to jinx them, although I’m not superstitious. Weird thing though, any time I watch my alma mater play any sport, they start losing. No basketball for me. I’ll get a safe play by play as he watches.

The thing with March is…it marches, a line of 31 bass drums lined up, mallets beating to the rhythm of time. Drum, thump-thump, drum, thump-thump until we’re done, staring at April left in its sound wake.

The beat goes on.

Rush Hour

Coffee mug and water bottle go on my desk, work bag underneath. Power on my laptop, desktop, and the computer dedicated for making student ID cards. Flick on three of the five light switches. New LED lightbulbs glare like the Arctic tundra, so one gets flicked off. Power on three computers kids use to search for books. They are lined up outside, ready for me to let them in.

They know by now to wait a bit until everything is up and running and make two lines to sign in.

I quickly scan email as kids get settled in their morning chats about books, browsing their favorite sections, and swapping books that won’t make it to the book return because BFF has to have The Summer I Turned Pretty before anyone else can get it.

Subject line: Ms. S’s classes will be in the library today through 4th period

Um, no. That was yesterday. Ms. S. didn’t show up. I check my schedule. I check my calendar. I check my inbox for an email several weeks ago asking for availability. Glitch on my part. I set the wrong date.

Major glitch: I scheduled a lesson with a teacher. In the library. For today.

I email Ms. S asking if she can keep her kids in her classroom for 1st period then come down later. I send the second teacher a chat explaining my issue. Call me asap if you see this.

The line for checkouts is getting longer. I scan ID badges and books. My phone rings and I explain my mess up. “I can go to your classroom instead.”

Issue averted. Ms. S walks in, oblivious to my email as I explain myself. I gather my materials and head to the classroom.

Rush hour is an understatement. This was all in a nice, neat 30 minutes before the bell rings package.

Formal

I walk into the main office to pick up a color copy I printed from my computer. Yippee, we have to share the color printer, but keep it on the down low because the color printer for everyone else is in the downstairs teacher’s lounge and the cartridge has been out of ink for months. Sucked dry by everyone printing everything in color rather than sending it to print shop…and there I go, down my rabbit hole.

“Excuse me,” I say, as I pass between the 8th grade counselor and 8th grade assistant principal. They’re chatting and obviously not about a student because they’re in the small hallway leading to the reception area. Counselor’s eyes brighten as she sees me. “Oooh…” I hear her say. I know what that means: you’re about to get hit up for something you don’t want to do.

“Are you good at planning parties?”

“If it’s my own party, sure. If it’s a party for someone else, not so much. What’s it for?”

“Eighth grade formal,” 8th grade AP answers, “PTA is supposed to do it, but they haven’t done it in several years.”

“Do you have a theme? Or maybe you can let some of the 8th grader plan it. It’s their gig anyway, give them something to do.”

8th grade AP, sighing, “I want it to be a surprise.”

By now, Counselor and IT, with whom I meant to chat with about tomorrow’s lesson, make their way to AP’s office. I walk to the printer to retrieve my copy, hearing them run down a list of possible suggestions. I pass by AP’s office on the way back to the library. They’re all huddled over AP’s computer.

IT laughs and says, “She’s not gonna like this, wait and see. Get in here!” she summons.

Before I walk in AP’s office I know what they’re doing.

“You all put that in ChatGPT to see what it’ll spit out!”

IT knows where I stand with AI-mixed feelings. I use it, but typically struggle through my own ideas which seem to mostly run on empty.

“I knew it! Whatcha got? Ooh, you can do a muted down color scheme. A play on school colors, instead of green, black, and white, do sage, gray, and cream,” I suggest. They did ask for ideas.

“Well, we were thinking ‘A Night in Hollywood,'” AP answers.

“Wasn’t that last year’s theme?”

“No, it was a few years ago. Everything we had is gone. It just disappeared.”

“Who took it?” We all look at each other. Things disappear frequently and no one ever finds the culprit.

Counselor wonders if all the prom dresses are still in a no longer on our campus teacher’s classroom. “What happened to all of that stuff? Did she take the prom dresses with her?” No Longer On Campus Teacher collected a pile of gently used prom dresses last year for the 8th Grade Formal Boutique. Girls who may not be able to purchase a dress were free to “shop” for their items.

“No, it’s all gone,” IT replies.

“Hmm…what if you do a 90’s Hollywood theme? You know, all that is trending. Carolyn Bessette Kennedy looks, slip dresses, baby tee and long skirt formals, updos with curls piled at the top of the head, MIB-Men in Black, they’ll love it.” I’m almost getting excited for them, but not enough to volunteer to coordinate the event. Not even close.

AP and Counselor start reminiscing about a full length sequined gown. A two piece formal with a halter top. Those updos with the curls piled on top of the head. Prom dates.

“We can have teachers submit their 90s prom pictures, it’ll be so fun!” AP is gaining momentum with the theme. Counselor agrees and they’re having a great time pinging ideas between one another.

IT and I exchange looks.

“Umm, yeah,” I offer, “fun for those who went to prom in the ’90s. But some of us didn’t. go. to. prom. in. the 90s.” My voice trails…

They’re not getting it.

IT and I holler out laughing. “WE went to prom in the ’80s. Good luck with that!”

We walk out of AP’s office and get back to our regularly scheduled program.

Are You There Judy? It’s Me, Ally…

Sunday, March 22, 2026

Hi again. This is the 4th or 5th time I write to you (on my blog). I’ve had people suggest I send these letters (links) to you. Worth a try even though you may be buried in fan mail. I’d absolutely love it if you’d write back.

Thank you for writing books I needed to read when I was a kid. I’ve never forgotten them and I learned about the world in them. Looking back, I also learned about family dynamics. My parents worked long hours out of necessity. I had first born child responsibilities as a tween and teen, you know, be the little adult you’re in charge until we get one type of situation. My grandparents and extended family lived minutes away, so it wasn’t an unhealthy or awful situation, just one of those where we had some responibilities a little earlier than most kids do. Your books helped me be a teen with other teens and I enjoyed living vicariously through your characters.

My daughter and I recently re-watched Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret while she finished some homework. We both enjoyed watching it on the big screen and it was fun having it on again. She’s now older than Margaret’s character so she had a great time psychoanalyzing the family dynamics. She even offered Margaret advice through commentary about her friends and life change.

I’d love to visit your book shop some day. I’ve heard that sometimes you’re working in the shop. you are at the top of my author meet-up bucket list. I’ve been lucky to meet great authors in person, so I know it’s a possibility. If I saw you out in public I’m sure I’d go right back to my twelve year old self in excitement. If I met you in person, I think I’d cry.

Do you still get massive amounts of fan mail? I wanted to write to you years ago, but I wasn’t sure if you’d read my letter. I find myself wondering the same question now. Maybe you’ll get this. Maybe it will remain unsent. Regardless, I appreciate how your books found me.

Sincerely, a long time fan,

Ally

P.S. Is there anything you wish you would have written?

	Alice on This One Isn’t Hand…
	Alice on This One Isn’t Hand…
	Alice on Not Today
	Alice on Whimsical Spring
	Alice on Blank Canvas, Blank Page