After eight hours of labor, a sort of delirium set in. My conscious brain was no longer in control. I fell into a sleep-like stupor between contractions, as if my body insisted on resting up for what was ahead…
writing
Dirt in the hand is worth two in the bush
“If only, money grew on trees,” I grumbled, stooping to crawl under our hedges. I knew weeding and mulching the 150-foot row of privets that grows along the border of our property would take all day and render me unable to move without shooting back pains. But someone had to do it.
Yep, my kids are brats
Our oldest went to three high schools. He grew up in ten homes, in four states and two foreign countries. He said goodbye to seven best friends, six piano teachers, and four Boy Scout troops. He played on three varsity football teams, and his academic transcripts are almost as complicated as the US Tax Code.
Bad Recipes and Why I Keep Them
Fueled by a rare rush of spring cleaning adrenaline, I lifted the bloated behemoth off of my crowded shelf of cookbooks, careful to catch the loose clippings stuffed haphazardly between her cracked covers. The 30-year-old binder full of collected recipes was surely in need of a good purge after all this time. She was full…
