New Year’s Resolutioners beware: Don’t read today’s blog.

Even the good things I add to my schedule can potentially become time-suckers. Time-suckers are the things I waste time on — the things that after three hours I ask myself, “What have I done all day?” I’m not dissing rest; the Bible clearly emphasizes the importance of rest and Americans are often guilty of…

Silly Sally and the tricycle: The long good-bye

Saying “good-bye” to relatives is awkward, especially if you like them. And the feeling after the good-bye is dull, almost numb, inside. When I was five years old, my mom, my three brothers, and I took a long trip to Rhode Island to see Mom’s relatives for an extended visit. It was a fun vacation…

Dirty Santas and awkward gifts.

If played correctly, the Dirty Santa gift exchange is a hoot-and-half. The idea is that you bring prank gifts to your party and trade back and forth until you end up whacking everyone in the room and leaving with the coolest prank gift that you can then bring to another Dirty Santa party. A couple…

Big Ugly Truck Guy parked illegally in a mini-me lot.

Why does it matter to me where Big Ugly Truck Guy (his real name) parks? I typically stop at Starbucks 3-4 days a week on my way to work and purchase a tall (not the real size) dark roast coffee. “No room for cream and may I have a ‘stopper,’ please?” The barista (coffee person)…

Accounting for kids at Christmas time.

I met this random lady out walking yesterday and we had a brief conversation. “What do you do for work?” “I work at T–s ‘R Us [store name edited for anonymity]” she said. “Well thanks for what you do for kids,” I responded. “I do accounting there. But when I’m all done each day I…

Why I started a blog and I grew up in Paris.

It all started when I gave Jesus a ride to work the other day (see December 9 blog). What I learned about my own shortcomings through this man was something I needed to share and it needed to be a little longer than 140 characters. Once it was written down I realized how much I…

Making room. Why Grandma’s visits were never a pain.

Grandma would come and visit every couple of years or so when I was a kid. . . .   One day we all packed in the car and drove to the small regional airport and watched Grandma climb out of the plane onto the tarmac.  There she was in with red hair sticking out of…