I’ve had my share of summer vacations. I’ve even written about them, but there’s one that stands out among all the rest – the time my husband was spotted allegedly throwing drugs off the Clay’s Ferry Bridge over the Kentucky River.
When I was married to a minister I wrote humorous stories about being a minister’s wife and what it was really like to live in the church parsonage; the house owned and controlled by the church. I regularly dreamed and wrote about moving into a house that met “my” needs.
I wanted simple things: a shower, bigger closets, central air. Each parsonage had something on my list, but with every gain there was a loss: get a shower, lose a garage; get a closet, lose the second bathroom. I became obsessed with my plight. I was up against a parsonage Goliath, with an empty slingshot and not even a lipstick in my pocket to hurl.
Then the nightmares began! . . . Continue reading
I’m one of those chipper morning people. My husband is not. One Sunday morning I read an article out loud about the people who were making money off of the public school system’s Common Core curriculum. Ron responded with a negative comment, compelling me (as usual) to counter with a positive one until we were in a heated debate over a topic neither of us knew much about.
Something I’m eating is stopping me up.
My innards are blocked in a poop pileup.
Could it be chocolate, creamy and sweet?
I hope it’s not chocolate I should not eat!
I loathe packing for a trip! I have a hard enough time picking clothes to wear each day, let alone planning what I want to wear days in advance! But one morning in March, I had to pack for a two night stay in Chicago for a Hay House Writer’s Conference.
My mind was scattered. I felt rushed. I should have packed the night before, but I watched the Katherine Heigl movie, “Killers” instead. It’s the one where she’s digging through her suitcase wondering why she packed all her socks, but no cute dress. I always chuckle at that scene.
In 2010 I was asked to be a Mother’s Day speaker. My children were grown and gone with children of their own so I wrote a ten minute talk about my three rules for “Mothering, not Smothering”.
- Have a sense of humor when raising children. Without it, you’ll go down – fast!
- Wrap your teenagers in a positive bubble, then release it and trust they’ll be okay. If not, you’ll never get any sleep.
- Don’t give advice to your adult children, especially about marriage or raising children.
I let the talk simmer for a few days. When I read it again, I sounded like a preachy, know-it-all, goody-two-shoes contender for Mother of the Year. I had five days to rewrite. . . . Continue reading