Dear Holiday Dysfunction, We are breaking up with you. We are writing new family stories this holiday season. We are not looking back at you with a single pang of guilt. Don’t believe us? We’ve got the classic breakup lines ready to go. “It’s not you, it’s me.” “I need space.” “I found someone else.”
Breaking a sweat and trying frantically to remove a shoe while rummaging through her carry-on bag, the woman flashed angry eyes and barked at her wheelchair-bound husband. She waved Mr. Impatient Business Traveler ahead, wiping sweat from her brow and maybe wiping a tear too. It was only 5:45 a.m. – early to already be
I’d like to thank my friends on social media for last weekend’s cinematic reconnaissance. No mascara, check. Tissues, check. Prepare to love Amy Grant more than I already do, check. But Oh. My. Goodness. By the time I saw “I Can Only Imagine” Sunday I was primed, but still unprepared. I paid $9.75 for a
It’s amazing what taillights do to a mom’s heart. My 17-year-old Man Cub drove off to get a haircut and hang out with friends today. His hands were at 10 and 2. He checked his mirrors. His seatbelt was secure. But those taillights. They trigger feelings. It’s wonderful and terrible to watch our kids drive
The story ends with an alpaca wool sweater, a $50 bribe and a cream pie coming toward my face. But like stories do, this one starts at the beginning. Or maybe in the middle, during the years of exquisite angst when having the right friends means everything and having the wrong clothes means everything. The
The day I discovered “listen” was an anagram of “silent,” my grammar nerd flag officially flew. That was until last week when I learned that both silent and listen, when rearranged, spell “lets in.” I’m going to need that flag in size Texas, please. Silent. Listen. Lets in. It usually happens in that order, doesn’t
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