It’s 5:30 AM, and Returned-To-The-Nest Son #2 is in the kitchen stir-frying something with lots of fish sauce. It’s the smell of coffee I want wafting through the house first thing in the morning, not that of rank fermenting sea-faring death. Warming hints of cinnamon and vanilla work, too....
The local mortician is a mover and a shaker – he’s kicking things up out there by the interstate at Sweet Memory Haven Funeral Services and Sleep Gardens. There, you can rest in the bosom of the baby Jesus without losing touch with the bustle of commerce. With a...
Street people smell me coming from blocks away — even before I’m able to smell them. They swoop down on me like hawks on field mice, relentless and ruthless, honing in on weakness. Missionaries and evangelists single me out of the crowd with ease, delighted to tell me I’m...
This is not what Husband needs to hear at the end of a long day. But I had touched it — sticky, dark and oozing. And you wait your whole life to deliver a line like that one. But I have another opportunity to shine. We bought the can of...
I’m very proud of my ability to change a roll of toilet paper. It’s a rare talent — no one else in my house has ever been able to master it, whereas I seem to have a natural aptitude for the task. When my kids were little, the family...