Stretched But Not Broken

When my boys were little, one of them had a toy called Stretch Armstrong. And yes, Stretch stretched, across the room, down the hallway, from the top bunk to the bottom—until my son broke him. We put a colorful bandage on Stretch’s leg, and stretched Stretch less after that.

We all eventually find our breaking point when we’re overextended. Lately I’ve wondered (more…)

To Serve or Be Served

I’m a very old-fashioned girl. My husband comes home from his primary job to turn around and commit his evenings to freelance work, so I try to do the whole June Cleaver thing: make myself look decent, have the house clean, have dinner ready to go on the table, and have his glass of tea poured when he walks in. I (more…)