Thursday, November 26, 2015

I think we all know by now my opinion on back-to-school clothing. Namely, that the only thing missing from most back-to-school fashion collections for even the youngest children is a dimly lit stage and a pole.

You just never know when you'll have a brush with greatness, or in my case, great fear. As near as I remember, I was cleaning a high shelf in the bathroom when there was a flash of movement, a flutter, and my momentary thought "oh, why is there a big leaf up here?" before the "leaf" became coherent enough to make a beeline (bat line?) for my hair.

Regarding the subject of etiquette, I once read that rules for social behavior don't exist to control people, but rather to make everyone feel comfortable.

I think that I shall never hear the term "tourist season" without imagining the term being akin withs, say, "deer season," "duck season," or "open season.

There is a certain comfort to be taken in the knowledge that some things are probably never going to change.

The world at large is always nattering on about how beauty is only "skin deep", but as far as I'm concerned, that's plenty deep enough.

Last week I suffered a grievous personal loss of a very dear friend. It was sudden and unexpected and although valiant lifesaving efforts were undertaken, all attempts to revive were ultimately unsuccessful.

As a mom, there is life B.S. (before sports) and then there is life A.S. (after sports). "Before sports" encompasses that rare span of time that occurs in those blissful seasons before you teach your child to walk and, say, chew gum at the same time.

If it has been a lifelong dream of yours to spend untold steamy summer hours peeling sticky vinyl off every inch of your exposed flesh then you should definitely get yourself an enormous inflatable pool.

When my children were younger I would, quite frankly, roll my eyes at the older people who would say as if imparting the sagest of wisdom "enjoy them now, they'll be grown in the blink of an eye.