Because just like being tailgated on the highway makes me go *precisely* the speed limit, someone telling me they don't think I should do X with my life or I ought to really conduct myself in Y fashion makes me even more determined to machete my way through the path I've chosen for myself.
Tim’s personality speaks clearly from 1985, defiantly intelligent, a little arrogant, and anti-authoritarian. As he is now.
These are the ephemera that deserve my attention, not the dust tumbleweeds in the hallway or smudges on the fridge.
Packing is interrupted by the discovery -- once again -- of things from my life, or my kids' lives. We've only lived in this location five years, and our belongings are dotted with pieces of history. This vase was given to me when one of my children was born. The doctor who delivered my babies... Continue Reading →
My dog can't find a place to pee. It's not for lack of trying, because he stops at every bush en route from the door up the sidewalk to the grassy hill across the parking lot, lifts his leg, decides this bush or blade of grass or discarded branch isn't quite right, and moves along. I... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 