I’m doing my wifey thing. My husband has a broken ankle and I’m taking care of him. That means I’m exhausted. And grumpy. Read more.
One Broken Ankle, and Two Lives Grind to a Halt. Or, Why You Should Definitely Stop and Tie That Loose Shoelace
Every year at this time we have a bunch of turkeys at our house. One comes in a shopping bag; the others arrive on their own two feet. Read more.
Last Tuesday night I made a decision. I decided to stop bad-mouthing Donald Trump. I would give him a chance. I’d keep an open mind. But could I? Read more.
Today I shamelessly brag about the kudos that “Wrestling with God: Stories of Doubt and Faith” has earned: lots of nice reviews and prizes. Read more.
Donald Trump played me. He got what he wanted from me this election season. And it wasn’t my vote. Read more.
Could my ancestral ghosts be haunting this Halloween house in Red Wing, Minnesota? I wanted to think so. Read more.