Well Prepared Or Slightly Traumatized

Six weeks ago I received a text inviting my son to participate in a fashion show at the University.  I responded with: “absolutely, he would love it.”  Really, I didn’t know that he would… Continue reading

He Loves Me, He loves Me Not . . .

Hurley was my first dog.  Almost seven-years-old when I got him, he was a rescue dog with a sordid past who quickly absorbed all the affection I offered.  Three years later, as Hurley’s age… Continue reading

Gap Outlet

Christmas day, 1985 my dad picked my two older sisters and I up in his smoke-filled 1967 Volvo. A car I despised until he upgraded to a 1975 lime pinto with a moldy… Continue reading