Uplifting And Positive News
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
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.
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
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
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
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.
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. It must have been hard for them. To go through getting themselves a divorce lawyer (and there are loads out there, they could
