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Daily Care Animal
My stepdaughter recently expressed a passing interest in possibly acquiring a new furry animal, as teenagers sometimes do when they are overcome by the romance of something soft, adorable, and completely dependent on someone else for survival. Her father shut it down immediately. “No more daily care animals.” Now, I heard this and translated it…
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Love Failed Me. Until It Didn’t.
I have been married three times, which is not the kind of thing you put on a cake, but it does make for an interesting résumé. At this point, I have enough relationship experience to qualify as either deeply wise or medically concerning. The jury is still out. People love to say, “Love finds you…
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Big Fish, Small Pond, Wrong Door
At 18, a talented violinist’s confidence crumbles during an audition for the prestigious Marine Band. Overwhelmed by competition, she performs poorly and realizes the difference between local success and national standards. Despite the embarrassment, this experience leads her to a fulfilling career in management, illustrating that failure can foster personal growth and understanding.
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Cemeteries, Cops, and Carts…Oh My!
What began as a harmless Easter golf cart ride to photograph an old cemetery turned into a roadside encounter with a sheriff’s deputy, a visible beer, two breathalyzers, eight warning tickets, and the growing realization that my family should never be allowed to combine holidays, vehicles, and spontaneous sightseeing.
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The Devil and the Drip
Chemo may save your life, but it does not arrive gently. Mine brought nausea, bone pain, hospitalizations, isolation, fear, and the long, unfinished afterlife of survivorship. This is the truth about the terrible bargain of cancer treatment: brutal, necessary, life-saving, and far uglier than most people understand.
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The 100 Club
I inherited championship-level golf DNA and somehow still showed up to my latest round looking like a woman with no prior arrangement with athletic ability. Between flying clubs, triple bogeys, bald eagles, and instant friendship, I discovered that being terrible at something can be unexpectedly joyful, especially when you decide to keep going.
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You’re Never Too Old to Drop Into Fortnite
At 60, I did not expect to become a Fortnite player, steal enemy vehicles, throw healing supplies into active combat, and bond with my fiancé’s online squad like a sequined chaos goblin. But somewhere between panic, crowns, coffee, and a stolen TIE fighter, I discovered friendship, reinvention, and an unexpected clutch gene.
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The Printer Worked. then Things Got Weird.
Back when computers were beige, expensive, and usually one tantrum away from disaster, I worked at Circuit City with Michael, a brilliant nearly deaf salesman who could sell anything. One innocent printer question later, he accidentally invented the word “huffalumps,” and I nearly died laughing behind the counter.
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“Don’t Forget My Belly Button!”
When a surgeon offered to rebuild my belly button for free, I discovered I was far more emotionally invested in that useless little nub than any rational person should be. After enough surgeries to qualify as renovation, keeping it felt less like vanity and more like preserving one stubborn, original piece of myself.
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Florida is NOT for Beginners
Florida does not operate like the rest of the country, and it has no interest in apologizing for that. Between airborne iguanas, backyard alligators, sideways weather, and errands that become endurance events, survival here depends on patience, preparation, and accepting that normal is a flexible, deeply unreliable concept.
70 Staples – Not broken. Rebuilt.
Survival, reinvention, and the questionable dignity of being human.
70 Staples - Not broken. Rebuilt. 