Years ago my mini-me asked, “When can I get my nose pierced?” This question caused me to launch into one of my favorite travel stories. “When you’re 18. Maybe.” She snarled her face. “Same for a tattoo?” “Oh, baby. You don’t want one of those.” “Yeah, I do.” I patted the sofa. “Sit. Let me tell you a story.
Last month I flew with friends to Scotland. Again. This time eight ladies traveled instead of 10, half of them recruited by me. Like before, after leaving the Inverness airport, we drove to two castles. The first was Urquhart Castle at Loch Ness. The ruins—remains of a wall and stone turrets on a patch of lush
Confession: I stockpile Facebook statuses. Hey, don’t judge me. My ammo pile of cleverness is for your benefit. My goal always being to educate, inspire, and/or amuse you. There is, however, one status I was too chicken to post: ”Don’t feel sorry for me, but I’m lonely.” From time to time, posts like this appear
Mrs. Burdette, the lady who had been old since I was a little girl, was a bit like a grandmother. We met her at our church where she “adopted” us. She had no grandchildren and only two grown children—a son who visited infrequently and a daughter with Downs Syndrome who lived in a group home.
Are you ready for some Christmas? Either way, you came to the right place. Today you get a bunch of gift-giving tips to make the holiday elf inside of you Happy, not Grumpy. Because grumpy holidays are not fun holidays. Trust me, I speak from experience. Don’t believe me? Click here. Oh, oh, oh, and
It was in the spring of last year when I found myself breaking up with a friend. I blame Andy Stanley for making me do it. Stanley is a popular pastor out of Atlanta, Georgia, and from time to time, I work his messages into my podcast schedule. Late one May morning in 2016, as
Beneath the photo of her flooded home, my friend DeeDee’s June 23, 2016 Facebook status read: “One day can change everything.” My heart sank. Over the course of more than a year, via Instagram, I watched DeeDee and Bobby Lewis build their dream home on the banks of the Elk River in Clay County, West
