Just when I thought all things wholesome had been extinct, I walked into a Banana Ball game and my faith in pure goodness was instantly restored. It was as unexpected as the midgame nod to Magic Mike courtesy of a slew of shirtless firemen dancing on the dugouts midway through the seventh inning. If you … Continue reading Banana Ball (and all its Bliss)
Happy Mother's Day! I've chosen this very day to publish my third book, Hi, Honey!: A Dementia Diary because it truly is a love letter to the relationship I had with my mom, who passed away just over a year ago. I wasn't really aware how unique the relationship was between my mother and me … Continue reading Available Now: Hi, Honey!
For decades, 4 p.m. meant one thing to me: a phone call to my mom. And then one day, it was gone. Hi, Honey! A Dementia Diary shares the story of loss, grief, and growth. I can't wait for you to read it.
A week of chaos, ranging from expired passports, weekday graduations, skin scans, and no-contact children. Can I get an amen? No? How about a margarita?
“Did you bring your mom?” “Yes! She's right here!” I said as I pulled a tiny urn from my pocket for all to see. ALL. All six-hundred attendees of the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop. All who giggled and clapped as I held up the Tiny Traveling Urn that brought me to the Dayton stage.
On one hand, I tend to do everything with intention, very thoughtfully planned out. On the other hand, I dive in without looking back. Why? Delusion.
As I left the Richmond airport, two weeks ago, my phone pinged announcing a voicemail that had been received while I was in the air. I was returning from a second attempt to avoid the feelings surrounding the first anniversary of my mother’s death, arriving home on that very first anniversary date. Because I was … Continue reading Message Received: The Erma Story
Today marks one year since losing my mom. It’s been both the longest and shortest year, during which I learned a hell of a lot more about grief than I ever wanted to. For instance, did you know there is no trophy for Best at Grieving?
As I was shitting my pants, I was praying that our dog missed all the trees in her sledding path (she did) and remained upright (she did).
January's tsunami has not mixed well with a quiet morning, a cup of coffee within arm's reach, and a few hours dedicated to mapping out my Monday morning epiphany.
