The Things We Fear to Say
I learned the hard way never to say the C word at work. No, it wasn’t that C word, though it may as well have been.
I learned the hard way never to say the C word at work. No, it wasn’t that C word, though it may as well have been.
On Sunday night, in the bottom of the eighth inning of game two of the American League Champion Series, the Detroit Tigers had a 5-1 lead against the Boston Red Sox in Boston’s historic Fenway Park.
*I Am Mountain* remains Gungor’s crowning jewel and shows a brighter future for them than I ever imagined. Like all great artists, they aren’t afraid to change.
About two years ago, I realized that garage sales were not worth my time. Estate sales were the thing. Estate sales had quality merchandise. Entire walls of blue Mason jars. Complete sets of dishes and silverware.
TO BE (hopefully) DISCONTINUED.
I really hope thirtyandfourtysomethings don’t think I’m a promiscuous, drunk, hopelessly romantic, lazy, clueless, emotional wreck.
How do you teach a classroom of sleepy freshmen that feminism is about equality, not (necessarily) bra-burning? That making fun of someone denotes privilege, not power?
Then one night in April Brett called his own bluff and showed up, straight from an Amish farm, with a puppy.
I’m getting better at b-ball, but it’s in the same way that I’m getting better at kite-boarding, pogo-sticking, goat-milking, or anything else that I never practice.