When I took my husband to the hospital for hip-replacement surgery recently, I envisioned myself playing the part of Florence Nightingale during his post-operative convalescence at home: propping his pillows, retrieving fresh ice packs, delivering steaming bowls of soup and neatly quartered sandwiches, topping off his water with candy-striped bendy straws. But instead, a few…
women’s empowerment
Attention-seeking, #MeToo, and the future of ‘The Bachelor’
On Monday nights, my 19-year-old daughter, Lilly, and I commandeer the television to watch a show that admittedly has no cultural value. Mindless entertainment, this reality show isn’t based on reality at all, but rather, it’s a carefully contrived dating competition, in which 30 women compete for the affections of one man in the midst…
Dust in the wind, and on my coffee table
Dust bunnies are the bane of my existence. That might sound dramatic, but let’s just say that I pretty much hate dusting. Then again, Mom told me to never use the word “hate” so let me rephrase7: Dusting is an activity of which I am not particularly fond. (And I get bonus points for not…
Sound Off: Has technology made deployments better for milspouses?
For military spouses enduring deployments in this complicated world of internet-based communications and 24/7 news, is ignorance bliss, or is knowledge power? My husband’s last deployment was over a decade ago. Facebook was gaining popularity, but we didn’t use social media yet. And the Skype connection was so bad, we scrapped it as a means…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets