Chapter 1. Pasta and Salad They were back to back cooking Friday night dinner. The usual. Pasta and salad. He asked her what she was thinking. She told him the truth. He changed...
Several years ago I made a conscious decision to grow. Not a garden full of tomatoes, or my bank account, or my hair. The focus has been on one very specific muscle, which really...
Once upon a time in a land far away, I was a teenage girl who got pregnant. I was deeply head-over-heels in crazy love, still living at home with my parents in a small redneck...
When I was twenty it was hard to imagine being old. I don’t mean growing old because the word “growing” implies that there is some sort of process or action taking place....
I attend church on Sunday mornings. Some people wouldn’t call it church but I do. I understand the objection, the confusion or disagreement with my unorthodox belief, also in...
This week I’ve been listening to Brene Brown’s book Rising Strong in the little red Ford Escape to and from work. Risking criticism for excessive use of alliteration, Brene...
Last Sunday morning I had one of those ‘What would Jesus do?’ moments. I’m not talking about the Jesus that’s been hi-jacked by politics and manipulated to suit a whole...
After you broke my heart Sometimes I soared with the angels And kissed the feet of God. Sometimes I groveled in the mud And made deals with the devil. But most of...
Hey E Baby, most of the time I can deal with this thing that hangs in the air like smoke from the cigarettes you couldn’t live without I put on the brave face red lipstick...
