Scrambled Lenten Reflections: The Books I Haven’t Read
What can you know about me through my unread books?
What can you know about me through my unread books?
Names trend up and down all the time. It’s weird to mourn the loss of a name.
Little by little, I’m watching graves turn into gardens.
Where is the line is between voyeur and vigil-keeper?
Only after living with persistent pain did I understand why old people can be so grumpy.
Taking ownership of your finances is daunting, but possible.
Words like fond, roux, and laminated dough mean something to me now.
I feel in every moment that I need to be accomplishing something, even if that something is entertainment.
We drove past house after house set high on pillars to protect from future hurricane storm surges.
Growing up is just a matter of noticing the neighbors.