I forgot to give my husband his birthday card this year. I didn't forget his birthday.
We all need a happy place, or at the very least can benefit from one — or a dozen. Take your pick. You don’t have to limit yourself to just one happy place. Go ahead; grab a few. They’re free! A happy place doesn’t have to be a place, per se, but it can be. It is a state of mind sometimes brought on by a physical location, but it can be achieved by any number of conditions: country music, classical music, hard rock, a lullaby, complete silence.
You might find them wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.
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.