You Can’t Eat The Best Thing In My Kitchen

It’s the most important thing in my kitchen. It’s not food. Nor a pot or pan. Not even a fancy appliance. Folks who have known me a long time find it funny that I treasure anything in my kitchen. See, much to the disbelief of my husband and kids, the ones I now cook for on a nightly basis, the ones who enjoy my usually pretty darn edible, if not delicious meals, for most of my life, I couldn’t cook.

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What’s There To Be Thankful For Anyway?

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

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The Way Thanksgiving Is Supposed To Taste

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

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Your Rattle No One Else Can Hear?

Have you heard my rattle? The one that’s driving me crazy? It’s happening in my new car. Well, not that new. The car’s about a year and a half old. Old enough to start with quirks. Too new, if you ask me, to already have a rattle. When I take the car out on the highway and get it up to speed, it sounds like the right front passenger window starts to rattle. Only it doesn’t. See, it’s not the

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I Got In Bed With A Stranger Last Night

There was a stranger in my bed last night. Goodness, what would my husband say? Thing is, this man looked an awful lot like the guy I married a couple of years ago. Except for one thing. This man was wearing- Was wearing— Reading glasses. I can barely get out the words. Judge? Me? No way. I’ve been wearing those suckers for a few years now. My husband? He’s fought it. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe the fact he’s four years

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Do Humiliating Mommy Moments Ever End?

In case you were wondering— The lady running around last weekend from one end of the metro area to the other in what can best be described as “Mom High Fashion of Shame.” Yeah, that was me. How shall I best describe my outfit? T shirt that I had slept in, so big it would still be loose on King Kong. Sweats from 1984, or thereabouts with stains and holes to match. Plastic Croc sandals. Uncombed hair half up in a clip.

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When Divorce Means Losing Your Friend’s Spouse

I got a divorce this week. Thank goodness, no. Not my husband and I. I think he would agree that were going pretty darned strong as we cross into our third year of marriage. Still, I got a divorce. A friend of mine let me know she and her husband made their split official. Signed the papers. Done. Over. And so I mean I got a divorce, Dear Reader, in the way I know you have, too. In that divorce

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14 Wishes For My Daughter On Her 16th Birthday

Dearest Daughter, We met when you were 11. I married Daddy when you were 13. The judge made you and me legal with our adoption when you were 14. This parenting gig really does fly by in flash, so before you zoom out the door, on the occasion of your Sweet 16, here are 14 wishes from me to you: 1. I wish that you know how much joy you’ve given your two mothers. Both Mommy in heaven, and now

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Seasonal Confession: What No One Dares To Say This Time of Year, But I Will

Might as well out myself now. What I’m about to confess is totally politically incorrect, against popular thinking, and gasp, even prejudiced. I don’t like Fall. Or Autumn. Or whatever you want to call it. I don’t like it. You, who are giddy about chillier temperatures, start of football, changing leaves. You, who get goosies just thinking about putting on that first turtleneck. You, who feel like slipping into boots instead of flip flops, is like reuniting with an old

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My Missing Period Has A Whole New Meaning

Might as well start with the good news. The experts tell me they expect my organ transplant to be a success. Kidney? Lungs? Heart? So much more serious. The extension of my body known as— My laptop. That lifeline to the internet, that link to my email, that toolbox for my writing. My digital bodily extension ended up this week in the computer hospital for emergency surgery. The crisis started with something so simple— A tall, refreshing glass of iced

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