Probably not what Lewis Carroll had in mind.
We’re not really gifts people; it’s not our love language, so my usual holiday/ birthday/ “Sorry you’re puking” gift is for the girls to scribble or throw some glue and glitter in a special, very special black book. My hope is someday I’ll have a dock on a lake on which I’ll sit and thumb through years of the girls’ special pictures to me and I’ll be old and wrinkly and glad we started the...
I write this blog not for myself or even my mom, but for my girls. I want them to someday be able to read these and know I enjoyed them, know how much I only wanted to do the right thing; to know when they’re teenagers that I wasn’t always out to ruin their lives. It’s not going to be pretty ’round this house when the girls start thinking they can just wear any old skirt that falls above the ankle. The problem is,...
I’ve got this orange chilling in my purse. Not because it’s hip to carry produce (though it is), but because I’ve been meaning to eat the thing for about five days. Packed so hopefully in my lunchbox for work, it made it all the way through two refrigeration-and-back-home-again cycles before it migrated to my desk, then my purse, the kitchen counter, then briefly flirting with the passenger seat of my car before securing a spot...
Things I recently hit 'Publish' on
We’re not really gifts people; it’s not our love language, so my usual...
I write this blog not for myself or even my mom, but for my girls. I want them to someday...
I’ve got this orange chilling in my purse. Not because it’s hip to carry...
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