My husband and I recently indulged in a couple of days away as a couple to celebrate our anniversary.
We play a name-that-tune game in the car while listening to the radio.
Mr. Rogers made the most of his neighborhood. I try to do the same — by walking the different streets in the name of “exercise.” As a bonus, along the way, I make interesting and not-so-interesting observations. You can learn a lot by walking the neighborhood, which is completely different from casing the neighborhood. Which I do not condone or recommend. In any circumstance.
I worry. We all do.
They'd be the first to admit they are more adept at handing off a football versus a tiny human being, but during the last week they've certainly given the latter their best efforts.
She is going to have a baby. The little pink bundle we carried home from the hospital but a blink ago is soon going to be a mother herself.
It was going to be a busy day. I had a to-do list longer than a Minnesota winter or a Texas summer – take your pick.
My family goes through a few – OK, more than a few – aluminum cans. And even though we've always recycled and attempted to condense the cans the barehanded way, surplus metal was impacting our recycle bin in an overflowing manner. When the excess wouldn't fit into the bin, the bags started piling up in the garage. I knew we were at a crossroads.
The Winter Olympics are waning. Competition officially ends Feb. 25. Sigh.
Change is inevitable, necessary and even desired. We choose change all the time. We change our oil, address, hair color, diet, job, friends, toilet paper roll, underwear and even our operating system. We contemplate change regularly. Should I trade in my old car? Get a new pair of shoes? Change cell phone providers? Would the kitchen look better with yellow walls? Should I buy 2 percent milk instead of whole?