Now that I’m a “real writer” (as opposed to my former slacker’s life as a married mother moonlighting as a writer), I’m amazed at all the similarities – besides sleeping late – between tortured artists and me.
Authorities and searchers might have been at a loss when they launched a nationwide hunt for “runaway bride” Jennifer Wilbanks recently, but the real experts – wedding planners – knew this was no kidnapping.
He stole my heart with a killer combination of dark good looks, a stunning ability to fix almost anything, and an inexhaustible instinct to take care of me when I’m moody, sick or stressed, which is pretty much always.
Am I mistaken, or wasn’t watching too much television once considered to be a bad idea? Didn’t people lie about how much time they spent watching Dallas? Can we not recall that once there was a golden time in America when “couch potato” was an insult? Now? I’m ashamed to be among decent people because I have nothing to say about Survivor.
Warm, witty and just a wee bit warped, Kymberly Foster Seabolt is a native of Kent, Ohio, who survived childhood exposure to disco and grew up to marry and move to the country. Her column weaves her special brand of humor with poignant, entertaining, and honest portrayals of parenting, marriage, and real life. She currently lives in northeastern Ohio with her husband, two children, two dogs, two cats, and numerous dust bunnies who wish to remain nameless.