Uplifting And Positive News
This is Husband. The Mad Miles Scientist. He wants to set you up for success as you try to do what he does–collect millions of frequent flyer miles without flying. He’s sitting here telling me, “Folks are so excited. They want to dive into the deep end. Sign up for a bunch of credit cards, to burn the miles you already have. But really, to make the most of this game, you need to get focused.” So listen to Husband.
To be surprised? Or not surprised? That is the marital question I need your help with this week, Dear Reader. I’ve shared in previous columns my husband’s rather quirky, geeky hobby. Crazy, mad genius obsession, might be a better description. Husband collects frequent flyer miles without flying. Millions of them. It’s all the way we spend our money: mortgage, power bill, grocery store, clothes. No dollar goes out the door without generating miles. Make that multiples of miles. We live
I’m slow. Hopelessly behind. Out of the loop. How about that for some fine negative catty self-talk? I figure it’s not catty, if it’s true. Simply reporting. I don’t have to go far to confirm and reinforce my theory. It’s a close as my computer. My computer, where years ago I joined Facebook. Facebook, where I post pictures of my life, links that I love, stay connected with “friends,” most of whom I don’t really know. Sounds like a huge
I wasn’t going to go, well, there. Frankly, you’ve given me no choice. Such a shame, too, as you and I were getting along so well. In fact, it appeared we were never better following my column of a couple weeks ago where I confessed to be a life-long book lover. Clearly, I’m not alone. I don’t think a column has ever generated more email. You are not shy about your love for books. Nor about recommending who you think
This actually appears in my new book, “Hope Possible: A Network News Anchor’s Thoughts On Losing Her Job, Finding Love, A New Career, And My Dog, Always My Dog.” If you like this piece, please check out the book. Sometimes you just can’t fake happy. You’ve suffered a loss that’s just too big. A friend reminded me of that this week. Got me thinking back to a time a few years back when my best lady friends were gathered around a
I can’t quite do it yet. I need some space. Before I’m ready. It’s like that with great loves. This one has been with me for years. I suspect with you, as well. A love that can only be found between the pages Of books. Reading. Diving into the deep end with characters I like and relate to better than some of the “real” people in my life. My name is Daryn and I’m a life-long book lover. You, too,
I wasn’t born. This fact was relayed to me by my slightly older brother. About the time he was six and I was five. The traumatic childhood memory of this revelation came flooding back to me this week, thanks to an endearing news item I stumbled upon. I read how two parents in England who got tattoos to match their young daughter’s unique birthmark. Ah, birthmarks. They run through my family. I’m talking the port wine stain kind. They are
“How do you pick your friends?” What an awesome question I was thrilled to get recently from a certain young person in my life. Let’s talk “The Picker.” The one that selects the friends you choose to have in your life. My own Picker has been shaped and modified for the better by three wonderful friends over the years. Thank you, Gina, for explaining it all boils down to fruit. “Picking good friends is like walking through the produce aisles
Get out the gloves and nice dresses. My daughter and I are heading to High Tea at a fancy schmancy hotel here in town. It’s what we do each year to celebrate the anniversary of our adoption. And I do mean OUR adoption, as she was 11 when we met, 13 when I married her dad. 14 when the judge made legal what was already long official in both our hearts. When a kid is a certain age, she has
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