Per my youngest daughter, Paige’s request, we went fishing this last week. It’s not a thing we usually do. We’ve gone once in 10 years, I think. It was spring break, and her mind was racing with possibilities of all the things she could do with my...
As a child growing up in Southern Ohio with grandparents in Eastern Kentucky, I never heard tell of the great and noble lentil. Yet here I am at 49 years of age with a vegetarian, Asian daughter in my house and lentils are a major staple of our diet...
Sometimes he was hard on me. Sometimes it felt hard to connect. I was fiery and adventurous, after all. I wanted colored hair and multiple piercings. I think maybe he didn’t quite know what to do with all of that. He was raised with the tumbleweeds...
I’m a terrible sleeper. While I like to blame the pandemic and menopause, the truth is, I have always had trouble sleeping. As far back as my childhood, I can recall lying in bed for hours longing to just fall the fuck asleep. As if insomnia isn’t...
They always say the teen years are hard, and you nod the same half-hearted nod you did when, as a mother of a tantruming toddler, they used to tell you to enjoy every moment, because the years would fly by before you even realized what end was up...
I love bourbon. It is pure perfection. Just all that goes into its existence is Harry Potter-level magic. Whiskey has been a part of my life in some form or fashion for the last 20 years. It is an amazing industry filled with even greater people. It...
At dinner time two nights ago, my two high school daughters told a hilarious tale: School elections had been coming up to decide who would be class president next year. Two of the kids running were the ones that you’d typically expect. You know, the...
When the fall of 2020 came, rather than risk all those dreaded zooms again, I pulled my youngest out of her school and have since been homeschooling her instead. In the beginning I thought it would be more temporary, because, let’s face it, I know...
My mom’s handwriting, even after all this time, is still as recognizable to me as my own. Mama’s handwriting, I always felt, was indicative of who she was, well, when she was in a good way – pretty and neat and comforting. I have little notes...
It was her 15th birthday. We drove out to Sonoma to spend the day, passing through vineyards, and the shadows of trees; Their light flickering, as if the whole earth shared a pulse. She had only asked to bring her boyfriend and his mom along. She...