She pinned the boutonniere to her grandfather’s lapel and walked him out to the backyard. His seat was in the front row of chairs under the canopy. It wasn’t the kind of wedding where the guests or groom weren’t allowed to see the bride before the ceremony. In fact, the bride had been scurrying around taking care of last minute details while dressed in the batiste gown she’d made and embroidered.
This had to be a cost-effective wedding, or there would be no wedding at all.
The groom hadn’t actually proposed to the bride. Years later, when learning about narcissism, she would read that narcissists rarely propose. It was beneath them.
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They had lived together for about a year, bought a home and settled into a comfortable lifestyle. Getting married was a default move. It made sense. It was expected. She assumed they’d marry one day. He didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about getting married. When she pressed, he usually said something like, “Well… I’m fine with it all as long as it isn’t a big production, doesn’t cost me a lot, or interrupt my work schedule. Continue reading →
The Sun, with all the planets revolving around it, and depending on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as though it had nothing else in the Universe to do.
To bring up a child in the way he should go, travel that way yourself once in a while. 
“Clean up this mess! How can we expect to have people over if this is what this place looks like? Are we Pigs, here? Can’t we put some order to this place?”
She was standing in the rice and beans aisle in the grocery store. She’d forgotten her list. She knew she needed some sort of rice or pasta or beans or some such.
I had my finger on the button to take the 113th black and white of Devil’s Tower, when I heard a bossy voice say, “Here… give me your camera. I’ll get a shot of you and your kids.”
I’m plugging along, making sure my shoe laces are tied, minding my manners, remembering to cross my t’s and dot my i’s, when suddenly Mark swoops in and screws up my happy parade. For a long time, Mark had me convinced that my little parade didn’t matter. My parade was simply the precursor to his main event.
he’d quit insisting that it’s about wanting to see the kids more, and just admit that he wants to funnel less of his money in our direction.
Because it’s Saturday morning. Because my friend just sent these to me. Because these bring a smile to my face, and hopefully to your face, too. But mostly because I’m a mom who is over-the-top proud of absolutely everything her kids create.
I’m not debating whether creativity comes from struggle or whether we are simply a tool to give voice to creativity. I believe we are all born with creative talent. Most of us forget that.
We get older. We lack encouragement. We forget how fun it is to create. We compare what comes from our minds and hands to others and we feel that we come up short. We become too critical of ourselves.
Creativity thrives in an environment where someone (Mark) isn’t telling us that the sun is always yellow, the grass is always green, trees always have leaves and we must always stay in the lines.
I do know that creating something is a healthy way to temporarily escape the stresses and difficulties that life may put in front of us. When we paint or draw or sing or write, our brains get a chance to quit stewing about issues. When we create, we allow our brains a little vacation from being grown-up and responsible. 
While we try to teach our children all about life,
