The Hoarse Whimperer

What do horses, Charlotte Bronte's Villette, and me trying to open a shattered glass door all have in common? Prepare yourself. It might get weird. We live down a disturbingly long farm road among fields and horse paddocks. My inner eight year old self is thrilled. Ambling along outside my van windows: Horses, copse of…

Tylonal, Tires, a Truckload of Crap, and Other Things to be Thankful For

I might have mentioned before that I miss my family and love when they are around. The planning was minimal, consisting mainly of pubs, touring the local grocery stores to show them my favorite snacks, and the odd day trip fitting in before school pick ups. The last time I was childless with my parents…

Lego My Ego, My Precious

It's PCS season, moving season. It is usually around this time, the two-year mark, that I become surly, jealous, restless, and resentful as I watch friends and strangers pack up their lives and get ready to start over somewhere else. I love moving. I love the prospect of arriving at a new place where nobody…

Craigh Na Closet

My family recently had occasion to celebrate a huge milestone event. Photos were taken.  Anxiety and Excitement, meant to be taken like swift shots of tequila and then ridden out before the taste could settle, turned into a waterboarding theme park. Toddlers were in rare form. Parking was challenging. Winds rendered time spent on arranging hair pointless. Lighting was harsh.…

Fight Manager

This is to be the last year of my 30s. Which doesn't really bother me. But I'm becoming more and more acutely aware that no matter how blithe my attitude toward fitness, how youthful my culinary choices ( #tatertots), or how in touch with fashion my In Style keeps me, the fact is: aging is…