Who doesn’t love getting goodies in the mail? Especially if they are FREE!!
Here’s the scoop on this fun service.
My face emerged from the water, breathless, and I squinted at the summer moon.
Blue light spilled over all the trees surrounding the pool, and my dad stood with his hands on his hips and his chest pushed out, self satisfied in the glow.
“Hear that, Gel? That’s the sound of mosquitoes getting zapped. I think that machine there will finally take care of all these bugs.”
I smiled and dove under the surface again, avoiding a kamikaze horsefly.
That summer, and all the summers I can remember of my childhood, clouds of mosquitoes swarmed through every play date, every cook out, every diving contest, every back yard race, every breath. My sister and I, pox-speckled by the Fourth of July, grew up falling asleep to the unique symphony of Wisconsin crickets and our own relentless skin-scratching.
I tried to tune out the voices downstairs.
I held my breath and…
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Food for thought? Nope. No need to think it over, Papa is preaching to the choir on this one, at least as far as I’m concerned.
I want to paint a picture for you, if you would allow me. First, while I am not a huge fan of the overused term Trigger Warning, some may find topics discussed here triggering because of events that have happened to them.
So, the picture: Imagine if you will a person, for the sake of popularity; mainly in the form of “likes” or “shares” or “views” given out during this age of social media, going around and filming themselves touching people of the opposite sex, and filming their reactions to post on the internet. “But Mike, what do you mean by touching?” Well, I’m glad you (I) asked.
How about touching like, grabbing their hand without their permission, or putting their arm around them, or stroking their face without that same permission? What about just outright kissing them?? Like, not even giving them a chance to say anything; just…
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This morning, I woke in the quiet of a new day, perhaps a new moment in history. As I so often do, I snapped a photo of the sunrise. The buildings, the sky, the air, it all looked blue as dawn broke somewhere in the distant grey horizon.
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I bet you didn’t expect this curve ball coming, did you? If you’ve been here for any amount of time, you’ve read about my abusive past with my mother, and if not, you might want to hit up the archives.
I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching and evaluating of my life recently. I don’t know, maybe it’s because every day it feels like 40 is getting closer and closer (because it literally is dummy, that’s how days work. Ugh, this guy). One of the major things I’ve landed on, even though I’m still trying to reconcile it in my mind, is that two things that are opposite of each other can still coexist in the world of truth. And this is causing havoc as I try to relate it to my past. Did that make any sense? Ok, here’s an example: you can love someone but…
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Just a couple of weeks away is my ninth wedding anniversary. 9th! My mind is totally blown over that. It’s gotten me thinking in all different ways about how it was then and how it is now, how I thought it would be and how it really turned out. I’ve been thinking about the little girl dream I had of marriage and the reality of the marriage I am in now. It’s a mysterious wonderment as to how we’ve made it this far. Especially with some of the seriously intense trials and tribulations that we’ve endured as a couple, the kind where many others can barely find the strength to rebuild their own life after facing, yet we’ve managed to rebuild ourselves and our marriage. With all of this reflection, I thought I’d share some of the tidbits of advice I’ve realized that have kept the hubs and I going…
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A beautiful piece about my beautiful friend.
I don’t actually how to start this story. How do I tell the story of someone I admire, but also a person I know little to nothing about them? Will I be able to write that story? Will people even believe me, or with they think I’m just making it up or trying to fill space? Will anyone even read that story?
Sure, those are all things I could, and maybe still do, worry about, but the real question I have is, will I be able to do this story justice with what little I factually know? Will I be able to tell this person’s story to the level that they deserve? Will they even read it? I guess there’s only one way to find out.
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