Growing up is hard to do. I know, I did it. Now guiding my kids through it, I’m reminded of how truly difficult adolescence really was.
Women reclaim their voices with #MeToo, and men need to learn to respect the power of women.
My mom remains such an inspiration.
It takes me a week to cut up a cantaloupe. I simply will it to wash, de-seed and slice itself.
My favorite weather is comfortable weather.
Customer service is a dying art. And I’m in mourning.
I’ve been a mom for sixteen years, but that doesn’t make me old.
At least for an hour a week, there is peace.
Can we control how we will be remembered?
Will we allow for the crazy class to take over and dominate?