During my last workout of the year, the swimmer in the lane next to me frogged his legs out and almost kicked me a few times. It’s par for the course, but once or twice his hands skimmed my torso.
It startled me, if I’m honest—I felt a bit violated. “STAY IN YOUR LANE!” I yelled under the water.
Read MoreOne day, the gym’s spinning room door was cracked open. I peddled and I saw people waiting around, not joining our class. Suddenly, what I thought was only a wall parted open!
Read MoreThe radio host couldn’t believe it. “Wait. So you JUST signed your whole family up for the 5k and didn’t tell them?”
His co-host responded, “Yeah, this way, the morning is planned. We will all get up and it will be a done deal. There isn’t an out. We earn the turkey.”
While this woman seemed certain a forced holiday run was a good idea, I was with the other host as he asked, “What if they don’t want to go? Are you sure this is a good surprise?”
Read MoreIn Costco, I spotted a dad on bended knee. He held up two beautiful costume options: “Do you want to be a mermaid or Wonder Woman?”
His daughter, probably 4 years old, stared at her options. Meanwhile, the son’s Captain America gear was already in the cart.
“I’ll be both,” said the daughter.
Read MoreThis morning I see a child on the early side of toddler, snuggled like a well-placed puzzle piece in his daddy’s arms.
He smiles at me, reaches out with one arm, as if I will be a wonderful new discovery. I reach back…
I stood in the elevator, faced the doors and waited. I’m not sure how long. Somehow I noticed the problem—“Oh, I need to push the button.” Has that ever happened to you?
Read MoreFrom behind the wrapping paper doorway, I saw the glow of the Christmas tree lights and I knew magic awaited. My parents, in their genius, “wrapped us kids in” so we would not peak for Santa or packages until it was time. We’d sit by the paper like meowing, hungry cats, pretty much pawing for the unveil. When it was time, we’d burst through the paper like linebackers at the big game. BAAM!
Read MoreIf I’m honest—really honest—I’m afraid of cooking a turkey. It’s not about the worry of something tasting bad; that’s a whole other article of vulnerability. No, it’s that sack of guts that lives inside the turkey. Some turkeys don’t even have it in a sack. You have to be a pilgrim or pioneer and go in there blindly. I SHUDDER.
Something—no, everything—about this sack of guts grosses me out. I try not to think about it. But something in this “small” moment of fear seems relevant. Let’s dig into these past weeks.
Read MoreMy brother’s costume idea confirmed it: Joshua was a kid genius. He was probably ten and declared, “I’ll dress up as Frankenstein and you girls can take turns being Igor.” According to him, we would have the opportunity to push Frankenstein door-to-door in the wagon. My twin Rachel and I were actually excited about this idea. Some adult must have stepped in...
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