It took four punches of the snooze button to get me out of bed this morning. I wasn’t tired. Or sick, for that matter. But I was sick and tired. Sick and tired of the same old routine, minute after minute, day after day, year after year, since 1995, when I made the decision to…
writing
The Elephant in the Bedroom
We’ve all seen those awkward commercials. Unrealistically tall, thin, good-looking actors holding hands in outdoor bathtubs and canoodling in public. The woman has silky long hair and flowing garments that might fall off at the slightest tug, and the man has a rugged jawline, piercing blue eyes and impossibly white teeth. They exchange “come hither”…
Mother’s Day: A cautionary tale
I started dropping non-so-subtle hints last week. “You DO know that Mother’s Day is coming, don’t you?” I said rather loudly to my husband, Francis. “Yeah,” he replied defensively, “what about it?” “Don’t you remember what happened last year?” I could tell from his blank stare that Francis was thinking about peanuts, or Greco-Roman wrestling,…
The deed is done, but not forgotten
“Ach! I’ve got to get rid of this albatross around my neck!” my husband Francis exclaimed recently, with plenty of overly-dramatic Italian gesturing with hairy arms. “ÔÇÿAlbatross’? Don’t be so dramatic,” I retorted. “I love that house. Hayden will never forget his little blue room, Anna took her first steps in that cul-de-sac, Lilly was…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets