For the lives that we love, and everything that comes with it.
All mothers are gifted with concealed claws and fangs upon entry into the profession. Accessories for an instinct hardwired into the job description so that with the force akin to a Mama Bear or Tiger, we can decisively rip any perceived threat to shreds that gets too close to the cubs.
"We're moving, get packing," greeted me one day when I came home from school to our cozy cottage in Capitola, California. "Where to this time?"
I wrote an article about my hometown, Blue Ridge, Va. where I actually lived growing up. Being a small town we had to travel west on Route 460 to Roanoke, 10 miles away for grocery stores, doctors, and entertainment. I moved to Roanoke in 1979 and believe it or not there are still some buildings in place, that were a part of my childhood and teenage years. Each of these landmarks is within a one-mile radius and within walking distance from each other. I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning desiring McDonald's Coffee and went to the restaurant that was near the downtown area of the city. It was dark of course and as I began driving home an idea took place in my mind.
Alvia was sitting on a thick branch of a tall tree somewhere near the middle of the forest. She had been tirelessly feeding her chicks all night and it wasn't over yet. She had laid six eggs a full moon and a half ago and to her surprise, they'd all hatched, and now she had six hungry owlets to feed.
Lockdown 1.0. I couldn't even be arsed to colour my hair. Even though I had a massive aversion to grey hair. Being in my mid-forties, I put this aversion down to the fact that grey hair sightings had become alarmingly common in the hairline around my forehead. Right where, as luck would have it, they were most visible. Which made me borderline obsessive about applying nuclear-grade chemicals to my hair monthly to obliterate any signs of the grey I found so offensive.
Interactive toys are ideal for when your dog is left home alone for extended periods of time. While we advise that you supervise your dog during playtime, these toys are super-durable so will take a good hammering to rip them apart.
I am turning into my Grammie. I know it’s cliché, to say you’re turning into one of your matriarchs. It is a well-traveled trope. However, it is a true one. She always used to say things three times in a row, and now I'm starting to do it too. It stemmed (and stems) from low-level anxiety, a need to know that you are actually being heard, above the din. She always moved fast, in everything she did, muttering in triplicate, "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming," or “I heard you, I heard you, I heard you,” or “I got this, I got this, I got this.”
What It’s Like To Be Me The storm brewing inside... I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord And I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord Can you feel it coming in the air tonight? Oh Lord, oh Lord