In our family, the game of dodgeball has become a kind of moral and ethical template by which we judge people’s character.
It all started with my nephew Collin at a family dinner. We were grilling him about a kid his age, ...
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It was time. Past time. I stood with one hand poised over the trash can holding my bra. The elastic on the straps was shot, the material puckered around the back where it meets the hooks and eyes. There is no longer any support offered, but yet the cups ...
It was a summer of interruption. “Summerus Interruptus,” I called it and I can’t remember another summer like it. Maybe its because there are four kids and two dogs and every time someone walks by our lawn the dogs bark, as if to defend their turf.
After the failings of July weather, August burst out with brilliant blue mornings and clear, cool nights. I was racking up banner days with my kids; cloudless skies on the lake, a little canoeing, swimming with their cousins. Kicking back on the beach chair with a book, I could hear ...