I. Am. Embarrassing. Or so I’m told by my oldest. Embarrassing with a capital E. Maybe with a few exclamation points thrown in. In fact, I do not even have to work at this quality. It comes effortlessly to me. My very breathing is embarrassing. And, being a bit of a contrarian, I find that…
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Blink and it’s gone
At the crack of dawn, I was already driving home from the airport, wiping big mama tears from my cheeks. My eldest was headed back to Texas, his fireman gear packed efficiently per his norm. Military precision is his modus operandi. While he was getting ready to board a plane, I was heading back to…
