“You don’t really appreciate what you’ve got until it’s gone.” These wise words came out of the mouth of my 16-year-old son; surprisingly, he wasn’t referring to a Snicker’s bar. I’ve always known he is an old soul, but this particular insight was unexpected.
It was picture day at school today. We nearly missed the annual event. This is because the child scheduled to have his portrait taken is a boy who sees little importance in remembering something as insignificant as picture day.
Last weekend I came out of the closet — with an armload that included an old Christmas sweater, two pairs of mom jeans and a maternity top from 1997.
Blurt: verb 1. An impulsive comment or question that comes across as inappropriate or unwanted. 2. To utter abruptly. 3. To speak out of turn. 4. To say something suddenly, without careful consideration.
My husband went out to mow the lawn last week. The good news: He came back. The bad news: he came back after cutting only half of the back yard. He entered the kitchen with an announcement.
I am every parent. Or most parents. Or at least one of the parents who live in my house, which is one of two, or one-half, or 50 percent, but who’s counting?
This week I said goodbye to an old friend and our parting was bittersweet. We’d spent nearly every day together for more than seven years. Lately, however, he just hadn’t been reliable.
There are certain dates that stick in our memories. September 11, 2001 is one for most of us. This week, we relived that moment in time, as people tend to do on anniversary dates both celebratory and somber.
I realize this is old news and I am way behind the times, but what’s new? I’ve always been a little late coming to the party; I’ve been wearing the same jean jacket since the 1990s. Thank goodness they are making a comeback.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch — or free checking.
Twice in the last month, I’ve found myself in an uncomfortable position. It’s not what you might think. I wasn’t in an exercise class or a dentist’s chair. My discomfort didn’t have anything to do with driving the kids to school before my morning shower or even wearing a cotton gown that tied in back.
This week put an official end to Daylight Savings Time for the year. Most of us dutifully set our clocks back an hour, and didn’t give much thought to the matter. In November we “fall back,” in March, we “spring ahead.” So what?
Just when you thought it was safe to put your single, sequined glove back into the drawer, you realize that Michael Jackson may be dead, but he’s far from over.