I had one of those seminal realizations…an epiphany…as I prepped my calendars, lists, files, etc. for the new year and it has made a surprising difference. For the first time in forever, I resolved not to resolve jack!
What traditional dishes do you serve, Gentle Reader, that your darlings snurl their pert little noses at? Surely, I’m not the only mom who “tortures” her family with “disgusting foods from the Great Depression”. Chime in!
I set a blistering pace in 2018 with a job change, a book release, a return to graduate school, and a host of other obligations that have made the year whir in a maelstrom of conflicting schedules.
The Alabama Gulf Coast is one of the prettiest places there is and a popular destination for thousands of over-wintering Snowbirds each year. Not us. We layered up and took ourselves on a little retirement recon trip to Missoula, Montana.
For all of you happy elves who flipped the switch on the Christmas season as soon as the last little Thanos or JoJo stepped off your front porch, or dumped your pumpkin spice latte down the drain in favor of a stout eggnog, I’d like to extend a kind invitation to join me in celebrating the understated glory of November.
I’ve been a school marm longer than I’d care to recall, teaching literature to young’uns in the Deep South. So, what I’m about to say is definitely about to ruffle a few feathers, especially amongst my English teacher friends.