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 (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…)