At Least They're Committed

Two full, nine-hour days of work and not one person noticed my fabulous battle wound. It’s fading now, so it’s less likely to be noticed and certainly won’t be as much fun. Bother. What good is having a 3X2-inch green, yellow, black, red and purple bruise if there’s no one around to appreciate it? I… Read more

Many times a day I feel like yelling, “I was attractive once!” But since Kevin pointed out to me that self-deprecation doesn’t suit me and that I should know full well that I am still attractive, I’ve been far more careful of blurting out such things. In fact, when someone now looks for affirmation from me… Read more

The line is three people deep and I’m thinking, ‘Gads, I hope she doesn’t ask me how my night is going. She don’t wanna know.’ I’m up, she asks, I spill. “I TESTED THE LINKS ALL DAY AND I DIDN’T CHECK THE TEST MESSAGE I GUESS AND FOUR DEAD LINKS WENT OUT TO THREE-HUNDRED-THOUSAND PEOPLE!!!”… Read more

Hiking up the killer hill every morning, sometimes again in the afternoon; dollar-sized bruise on the ball of my foot after tripping and stepping on a sharp rock while river wading; awesome; choking on the dust on the second ATV while giggling as we puddle jump going up Red Creek; pulling splinters from my knee;… Read more

Dexter is my midlife crisis. He’s big and brutish and a bit of a bully, but only to people who pick on us. Unlike the 50ish man who gets a red Corvette to compensate for his increased lack of hair (oxymoron!) or his inability to get it up, I have my Ford F150 dual cab, circa 1998, because… Read more

“Awesome” time, as Dad would quip. One-hundred-plus degrees, sitting in the shade in the front and back yards, talk of Steve McQueen, Audie Murphy, “that God-damn” Duvall, buzz cuts, shooting archery until Edisonsblackdahlia’s fingers ripped open, lamenting that I suffered nary a bruise, homemade soup, teasing, Three Dog Night, speed walking at the mall, and my dad’s stories of… Read more