Uplifting And Positive News
Looks like I will be turning in my American passport. I’ve been informed I’m not of this country. Oh, it ratchets up from there. Apparently, I’m not even of this planet. The notice came via a look. A look from my kids. Perhaps, Dear Reader, you’ve gotten “The Look,” as well? It comes about the time you mention celebrities or movies that were part of the fabric of your youth. “This guy reminds me of Elton John,” I remarked the other
It is one of the most formidable values I was raised with. Right up there with The Ten Commandments and not running with scissors. Simply, I am to never cancel a party or joyous occasion. No. Matter. What. The thinking is, life has so many challenges, that when joy is on the calendar, you must embrace, cherish and protect it. Do you get that, Dear Reader? Just how seriously do we take this in my family? When my mom became
My husband wants me to start dating. Wait, it gets better. He wants me to start dating women. If this isn’t among his sweetest, most endearing qualities, I don’t know what is. See, we’re not that wild, exciting swinging couple you might be imagining. About as far from that as possible. Look “Boring” up in the dictionary and there are our contented, smiling faces. The deal is Husband is worried about one of the greatest treasures of my life: my
Talk about a potential movie moment gone bust! The “Woe is me” moment brought on, by all things, by the recent “Sound of Music” Sing-A-Long on TV. Did you happen to catch it, Dear Reader? Did you sing along? As Julie Andrews sings, “Let’s start at the very beginning….” Of coming across the movie on TV, of looking to my family and saying, “Yes, Family let’s sing!” Here’s the thing—I didn’t get as far as a “deer, a female deer,” before my family turned this
I took my mother for a large dose of poison last week. Sound crazy? It gets crazier. I actually did it two days in a row. That double dose of poison is a gift. I’m so thankful to have access to pump it throughout her body. What kind of daughter does such a thing? The kind that’s hoping to save her mother’s life. I shared last week, Dear Reader, how my mother has been diagnosed with lymphoma. The poison I’m
Honeymoon. Traveling the world as a news correspondent. Volunteering at an orphanage in Africa. I’ve had a lot of great reasons to get on a plane. I now have the best worst one. “The doctor called with the test results,” my mother said on the phone last week from the other side of the country. “The biopsy shows I have a low-grade form of lymphoma.” The air sucked out of the room and everything on my calendar instantly turned to
I’ve figured the perfect gift! It’s perfect for– Well, everybody. That’s why I am now committing to a crummy holiday season. Okay, maybe not the whole season, But at least a couple of days. A few failure moments. You know me, Dear Reader. I’m all about gratitude, being happy with what you have. But a line is gets crossed this time of year. To go on Facebook, to open your mailbox is to be deluged with perfection! Everyone’s children are
I had one job. One job only. And I failed. Well, sorta. The task at hand—pack my teenaged daughter’s suitcase so my husband could whisk her away for a surprise Daddy-Daughter weekend. He had cashed in points, of course, to fly them to Los Angeles and catch their favorite British Boy Band concert. Yes, my husband has a favorite British Boy Band. Just one of his many quirks which include obsessively collecting frequent flyer miles, getting goose bumps from spread
Some days I struggle with that sign. The one that hangs on the wall just inside our front door. “In Everything Give Thanks” it reads, painted on a simple wood plank. My friend, Dana, gave me that sign about six years ago, a reminder of a time when things weren’t feeling so thank-y around here. A reminder of a time when something that seemed bad at first, turned out to be rather awesome, something indeed to be thankful for. I don’t know
Here it comes. The family strife. The mess of our differences. All found At the bottom Of a casserole dish. I’m talking, Dear Reader, about Thanksgiving And Sweet potatoes. How do you love yours? Are your sweet potatoes mashed? In a pie? Squished into a casserole dish? Dare I even broach a topic more prickly than some which have divided nations? I will only whisper the word–topping. “To marshmallow or not to marshmallow? That is the question.” Because we share
