Cheryl-Anne Millsap

The elevator door opened and a young woman got on. She was deep into a conversation on her cell phone. It sounded like she had just come from a job interview.

Fine craftsmanship is timeless. Terrie Beaudreau is reminded of this each time she looks at the grandfather clock in her home. The clock was made in the 1930s by her husband's great-grandfather. The clock, which still runs, is one of several surviving family heirlooms made by Frances Wilson Lisenbee.

My first child just turned 21. Now she's an adult in every way. We had cake and ice cream. We showered her with cards and gifts. But after the house was quiet and everyone was asleep, I thought of a few things I wished I had said to her.

Anita Kelsey describes herself as an avid "garage sale and estate sale lady." She hits a sale whenever she can "I can smell the sale miles away," she says.

Coffee is chic. Neighborhood coffee shops have evolved into trendy bistros, complete with plush furniture and fine art on the walls. After your gourmet latte arrives, you can settle into a leather armchair and listen to the jazzy CD or a local band.

Time flies. Life is short.

Who says parenting makes you grow up? I've been thinking about that since I saw the now infamous photograph of Britney Spears behind the wheel of an SUV with her infant son propped up in her lap.

Standing at the window, high above the busy street, I watched them. The elderly couple walked slowly down the sidewalk. He was tall. His head was bent low over the woman at his side, and strands of his thin white hair lifted in the wind. Faded, shapeless, corduroy pants, a size too big, hung loosely on his spare frame.

Near Nature. Near Perfect. Words meant to entice visitors and new residents to the city of Spokane.

This winter weather is getting to me. The endless gray sky, the dirty gray pavement of roads lined with muddy cars, and the leaden mood of everyone I talk to is oppressive.

My children bring out the worst in me. I expected a few stretch marks and a lot of lost sleep, but the biggest surprise of becoming a parent was that I became Jekyll and Hyde.

I let a whole year slip through my fingers. Like the sand I scooped up at the beach on my vacation, months, days, weeks and hours trickled away until they were all gone and I was left with empty hands.

Judy Porter brought home a barrel full of treasures. When she walked into a jewelry store in Tacoma several years ago, Porter noticed a couple of place settings of old brown and white transferware displayed on a table.

Uh, oh. A quick look at the calendar is all it takes to tell me the bad news. I didn't get my cards out in time. Christmas has come and gone. Most years I beg, bribe and cajole my children to gather and stand still long enough to get a nice photograph to include with a card. Other years, like this one, when time flies faster than I can catch it, I look for vintage cards in antique stores and flea markets and send them out instead. I think of it as a way to recycle holiday cheer.