(by Sarah Eshleman) After resigning from teaching two years ago, I could no longer run from the mounds of books I had collected over the years in hope of reading one day. It was my dirty secret: I taught writing classes for seven years and earned an MFA, but I was still no good at
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
Not long ago, to bless our oldest child, I drove her Honda Civic to the carwash down the street. So there I was, popping quarters into the pay-to-vacuum machine, crashing her floor mats together like cymbals, and enthusiastically q-tipping her coin holder slots. Soon after, a twenty-something boy parked next to me. When the vacuum’s
(by Karin Fuller) While driving home from a day-long bike ride recently, I caught myself feeling weirdly happy. A singing-along-with-the-radio kind of happy. It occurred to me it had been ages since I’d last felt so thoroughly up. The previous year had been especially rough; had included the painful end of an engagement and a
(Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links. Any pennies earned will go towards college educations, weddings, and writing expenses.) Let’s get one thing straight. You people who call me, “Hummingbird on Acid?” I’m not on acid. And you people who give coffee all the credit? You’re wrong too. My tendency to flit hither and yon,
(Not THAT F-word, silly rabbit, different ones!) (Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links. Any pennies earned will go towards college educations, weddings, and writing expenses!) Have you noticed journaling is super-duper having a moment right now? I’m not surprised. For me, journaling yields a ton of benefits. Self-awareness, better health, improved finances, and increased
A few years back, I was en route to a writing conference with a carload of women when a strawberry-blonde writer-gal gifted me with a nickname: “Hummingbird on Acid.” Just like a really good bra, the moniker fit perfectly and I have worn it ever since. Are you a hummingbird-on-acid too? If so, you experience
I think Mick Jagger was wrong when he sang, “What a drag it is getting old.” Heck, he was only 23. What did he know of decrepitude? He’s much older in this picture, but thanks to hair color, he doesn’t look too Keeper of the Crypt-ish. In fact, in this photo, what I notice most is his
