Humor
Lessons From Losing
As a self-admitted, ridiculously competitive parent who wants her child to know how good it can feel to work hard and win, it is my duty to report that my son competed in a fencing competition last weekend….
Lessons on Valentine's Day
Today I shall chronicle some very special Valentine’s Day memories….
Who Me? Stylish?
I said I was taking a break from blogging to work on my book. But I must not have been very convincing because the next thing I know, I received this message from Clay Morgan over at Educlaytion: “I have something for you over at my blog.” Well, for the love of Pete, that’s like crack. I mean, how can anyone resist that? You would have to have to be one cold-blooded bitch not to heed the call of a fellow blogger….
Lessons From The Dance Floor
For the record, the last time I went clubbing was when I lived in New Orleans back in the 1990’s, so you can imagine my surprise when I learned that there is, in fact, a joint less than five miles from my home where I could actually get down and get funky….
My Reading Glasses: Revisited
I’ve had my reading glasses for over a year now. At first, if you’ll remember when I posted about new glasses, I was suffering with the concept of how the damn spectacles represent that my eyes are getting older and that, by extension, I am getting older, too. I’m getting used to the concept. Some of you suggested that I try to find a pair of glasses that I really love, so I don’t feel as though I’ve lost my mojo….
Making Peace With Reading Glasses
I have to admit, I feel notably less sexy with my glasses on. I’m sorry, but it is true. I would rather look smokin’ hot in my red dress and stumble into the dessert table at somebody’s wedding than wear my glasses. And I don’t need them for distance, so I can’t wear contact lenses — and I am not a good candidate for LASIK, so you can stop right there with those suggestions. I am simply a latent hyperope. There is nothing for me right now except readers….
Toni Flores: A Woman Who Opened Minds
I remember feeling terribly flattered that this woman, this icon, this goddess with long black hair, could have chosen anyone to watch her children – but she chose me. I felt this responsibility, this honor, as I arrived at Toni’s house. Her house was a little dark inside, but it was immediately obvious to me that her house epitomized her. Everything felt casual. Comfortable. There were no areas that were “off-limits” to the kids. There were artifacts – treasures – from her numerous trips to Mexico scattered about, and blankets and lots of throw pillows. And books and books and books. She was who I wanted to be when I grew up….