This is the flower of a night-blooming cereus, a type of cactus whose twisted tangle of spines is ordinarily nothing more than a spindly eyesore. She blooms only when temps soar to triple digits and the desert floor cracks open with thirst. But, oh does she bloom. Her fragrant, palm-sized flower is called Queen of
“Start walking.” Those two words burn a hole on page 154 of “The Polygamist’s Daughter,” a chilling child’s eye account of life in a cult led by a 1970s self-proclaimed prophet dubbed the “Mormon Manson.” “The Polygamist’s Daughter” will take you on a 300-page journey from all that’s awful about this world to all that’s
How we respond to life’s ubiquitous “it’s not fair” moments is a true measure of our maturity. This is why I decided against scratching a grown human being’s eyeballs out this week. Context probably matters right now. “Hi, Mom.” Two words, tone, and time of day told me everything I needed to know. The Man
I’m one of those weird breeds who reads four different books at a time. Anxiety came at me this week in three of them And one of them is fiction. Then my pastor touched on it Sunday. So I’m writing under protest this week. Anxiety is not a topic I wanted to explore. Even my
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