Sometimes, when I’m sitting quietly on my couch crocheting and watching West Wing, my mind wanders a bit and I end up rethinking things I haven’t thought in a while. This morning, it was this: wouldn’t it be great if there was some outward sign that a person was poison or evil or generally not worth the skin they’re printed on?
I’m having a difficult week. So are the kids, but we’re all attempting to keep that to ourselves and put on a happy face. Continue reading “These are the times that try [wo]men’s souls.”
If you were here this evening, you’d be parked next to me on the sofa, and draped with a lovely homemade afghan. I’d offer you a choice of coffees, and you’d quickly realize that mine is much less premium than my husband’s. This would no doubt cause you to raise your eyebrows, because it’s obvious in like two seconds that my sweet husband is not the high maintenance partner in our relationship. Except when it comes to coffee.
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