Uplifting And Positive News
I took the trip again this year. Because I forgot. What a big waste of time it is. Yet, each year, I feel compelled to go. The event is big and must be marked. And so, I make the trip. Down the card aisle at the local drug store. I pick up countless cards. Not a single one fits. Where is the card you give your daughter commemorating the anniversary of your adoption? Where is the card that says meeting
I stole an hour of a remarkable woman’s time this week. For Barbara, time surely is a precious commodity. For all of us, truly. Barbara just knows it better than most of us. I would think she had better things to do than spend time talking to me, a stranger. See, Barbara is fighting for her life. Literally. This is the third time cancer has come knocking at her door. Breast cancer at 32. Again at 45. This time is
If you love your dog, you might enjoy 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.” It includes a number of essays about loving your dog. I’m thinking about my dog. Always, my dog. And the heavy load. Such a heavy load. The thoughts come each day as we wrap up our morning walk. It’s the only walk DarlaDog feels the need for these days.
As break-ups go, this was one of my yuckier. The details still so clear, all these years later. We met soon after I moved to Atlanta to work for CNN. He also had just moved to the city to do a one-year surgical fellowship. I was so sure he was The One. A year into dating, he came to be sure that I wasn’t his. The big clue being his accepting a job on the other side of the country.
I’m so excited that my new book, “Hope Possible” is here! The full title is, “Hope Possible: A Network News Anchor’s Thoughts On Losing A Job, Finding Love, A New Career, And My Dog, Always My Dog.” Here’s a peek at what it says on the back cover: From your TV screen, Daryn Kagan looked like she had her dream job. As a news anchor for CNN, she had a front row seat to the world’s biggest breaking news
I didn’t mean to snoop. I swear. I wasn’t looking to stumble across my teen’s secret letter. A letter bubbling over with emotion. With a broken heart. With defiance. She will stand by her man. “I have yet to hear a legitimate gripe about him,” she wails. “I’m not going to stop seeing him no matter what you say.” Oh my. And to think I was just hunting around in the basement hoping to find an old photo of my
This is a “Thank You” note to my friend, Clare. Clare, who has delivered the best gift this holiday season. A gift for me. A gift for you. Clare, which rhymes with “Share.” Clare who’s life has changed forever. That’s what she’s sharing. And boy, has she shared. Shared with her friends and Facebook community the hugest shock of her life. That routine mammogram, the one she got just because she should, it showed a lump. A lump she hadn’t
I’m thinking about getting back into an old relationship. One that took too much time. Brought on too many tears. One I decided I needed to leave. I’m talking about my relationship with the question, “Why?” Perhaps, you’ve been overly involved with “Why?” as well, Dear Reader? “Why?” usually extended its beckoning finger at those times when life hasn’t turned out the way I wanted it to. The way I was so sure it should. Why didn’t the guy I
Dear Daughter, It seems like just last week I was sharing, “14 Wishes For My Daughter’s 16th Birthday.” yourcialisrx.com/cialis_soft_tabs.html With your 17th birthday upon us, the window is closing on your time under our roof. Please allow me to get a few more wishes in: -I wish you know there are so many ways to win at high school than just grades and test scores. -I wish you know that despite crazy college admission arms race, you do not need
I’m getting a new set of boobs tomorrow. Uh oh. Have you just stepped into a classic case of over sharing? In a word, yes. This boob journey is one I never wanted to share. Didn’t want to share it with you. Really didn’t want to share it with the woman I consider my best friend. See, the boobs in question are not exactly mine. They’re hers. The Phone Call That phone call seven months ago where she said, “The
