How do you know there are boys in the house? When weapons top the list of wished-for Christmas toys. A few years ago, I wrote about how we were living with a reincarnated Ralphie, the star of the classic movie "A Christmas Story." But instead of Ralphie's requests for an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, we were pelted with pleas for the N-Strike Longshot CS-6, a Nerf dart gun as long as my son Eli was tall.
Military strategists could learn from watching a mother organize Thanksgiving dinner. It seems simple: It's just cooking, right? Paula Deen and friends on the Food Network make it look deceptively easy as they prepare a giant spread in just 30 minutes. When I was a kid, my grandmother Honey made it all seem so effortless that I truly believed it was.
Then I grew up and the torch was passed to me. Now, I'm in charge of playing host to the big family meal. I don't mind admitting that it usually wears me out. Sometimes I wonder ...
I love words. It's probably good for a writer to love words, since we spend so much time together. When I have a nebulous concept, I can open a dictionary or thesaurus and weave beautiful, meaningful language into clear thoughts.
I've put off writing this column for a couple of months. I haven't wanted to tackle it because it was too big, too emotional and felt nearly impossible to write. How do you explain in just 700 words mourning over someone who loved you wholly, purely your entire life? I still don't know how. But since today is her birthday - her first one in heaven - I'll try.
Labor Day is just around the corner, and many of our friends are planning to go out of town. Mentally, I'm up for another vacation, too. But physically, I'm still getting over the trip we took last month.