“You didn’t buy another ceramic Christmas tree, did you?” my husband, Francis, asked, holding the box the mailman had left on our porch. “Never you mind!” I said, grabbing the package with excitement. “How many do you have now … fifteen? Twenty?” he accused, while I sliced through the packaging tape with scissors, energized by…
Middle-Age
Ow! Christmas Tree
This year, my husband, Francis, and I went to a local farm to pick out our Christmas tree together. In 25 years of marriage, there was one year — and only one, so help me God — in which Francis bought a tree without me. It was 2010, and our street on Patch Army Barracks…
The Shame on the Shelf
When it comes to trends, I operate on a standard five-to-ten-year delay. Hence, I refer to ink cartridges as “printer ribbons,” I’ve always wanted that hairstyle Jennifer Anniston had on “Friends,” and I still own a pair of dark-washed jeans. So, it’s no surprise that I never picked up on The Elf on the Shelf…
Take a chance on me
My ringtone sounded, right on time. A burning ache gnawed at my stomach, as if acid boiled within. I took a deep breath, and swiped to answer. “Hello?” “Oh, uh, hi! Lisa?” “Yes. Hi, how are you, Ted?” “Great! Great, great … so good to hear from you! Uh, well, I mean, good to talk…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets