Things I’d rather do instead of “killing my darlings”
I was a word lumberjack all day, hacking and slashing and cutting down chapters of my dissertation to squeeze my carefully sculpted …
I was a word lumberjack all day, hacking and slashing and cutting down chapters of my dissertation to squeeze my carefully sculpted …
I forgot my blog birthday. Again. I didn’t write about our third anniversary. It took me a month to opine about flying …
In lieu of a sweater picture. “Good night, sweater.” Snerk. “Good night, sweater?” I’d said “Good night, sweetheart,” intending to kiss a …
Positively medieval these root canal instruments. I clapped for the dentist today. No, more specifically, I applauded when the endodontist I was seeing …
Cheeks puffed out, lips pursed, I grumped at Mr. T. (Yes, “grumped” is a verb in our house.) “One too many biscuits,” …
I stared at the onion rings as I said it. “Now, don’t read into this,” I began. We’d just gone flying, me …
A component of misophonia is that it can’t be rationalized away. I can’t talk myself out of hating a trigger sound. Pop. Chomp, …
The only kind of yelling I really want to do. I usually end this exchange with “Well, you can try!” “I said …
It’s already started. The pumpkin recipes on Pinterest. The Halloween candy at the grocery store. The first inklings of change in my …
The aroma of caramel corn wafting through the morning air. Bleating sheep led by 4-H kids in crisp white uniforms. Food booths …