Dear Ragweed, So you’re back. Again. Back to bully me and 50 million other people all over the world. I’m familiar with your plan of attack because I’ve been battling it every fall for decades. You’re an ugly adversary with hairy leaves masquerading as a harmless fern. You’re no fern, you faker. You’re a seasonal allergy assassin. Even your so-called “blooms” are nothing more than yellowish bumpy spikes designed to spray pollen like a machine gun. A solitary ragweed plant can send a billion pollen grains into the air like millions of misery-inducing missiles. Researchers say those nasty little pollen grains have been found as far as 400 miles out to sea and two miles up into the atmosphere. If […]

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BEFORE I had lime Jello for breakfast today. Guess what I’m having for lunch? Lime Jello. And dinner? You guessed it. Lime Jello is on repeat today unless I get crazy and have a little chicken broth before the Jello. I’m also drinking water, white grape juice, Sprite, and tea. If you recognize this odd diet, you’ve probably realized I’m 50. And when you turn 50, you don’t get your driver’s license, vote in your first election, or order your first fancy cocktail. You get your first colonoscopy. Tomorrow is the big event, and I’m a little terrified. I started the mandatory “clear liquids diet” last night, and I’m continuing it today. Even though my stomach has had its share […]

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Once upon a time, during a moonlit night, an unsuspecting woman descended the steps of her backyard deck and stepped onto the stone patio. Her three rambunctious dogs raced past her, eager to hit the grass and sniff out the perfect place to pee before bedtime. The woman knew the sniffing would take a while, so she strolled around the patio, hoping to add to the step count on her fitness app. Along the way, she kicked acorns, rocks, and leaves out of her path, unaware of the danger ahead. Just as her foot began to brush aside a large rock, it hopped. Straight up and right at her. She shrieked and jumped in the opposite direction, narrowly missing the […]

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I miss the writers. The Writers Guild of America went on strike in early May, and it has been a creative wasteland on television ever since. Most of the shows Tom and I used to watch won’t be back with new episodes this fall. Lately, we’ve been flipping through over 100 channels, amazed that there are so many options yet so little we want to see. If I see one more rerun of House Hunters, I’ll go nuts. I want to hunt down that annoying suburban couple who wouldn’t stop whining about a powder room painted a color they don’t like. Just paint the tiny room, people! You can learn how on YouTube. I should turn off the television and […]

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I only remember a little about being 7 years old. I remember my second-grade teacher’s name was Mrs. Wood, and she had beautiful dark hair and said I was good at reading. Other than that, I remember only one thing – I was one of the 80 million people who watched the movie Jaws when it aired on the ABC network in November 1979. Why was a 7-year-old kid watching Jaws in the family living room? Good question. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but my best guess is that my brother, who was 14 then, wanted to watch it because sharks were cool. My parents probably thought I wasn’t paying attention to the TV anyway since I was usually preoccupied with sticking […]

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Pop… pop… pop. I’m sitting at my desk, methodically squeezing the sheet of bubble wrap I plucked from an Amazon box. My office door is closed because I have to pop in private. Tom and I have agreed to disagree about whether all this pinching and popping reduces stress or drives him nuts. The sound bounces around the quiet room, piercing the weird stillness. With each staccato squeeze, I try to deflate the balloon of mixed emotions swelling in my chest these past few days. My boys are gone again – back to the college campuses they’ve begun to call home. And their little sister gets up each weekday and takes her Goldendoodle service dog to their last year of […]

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My family of five (plus one large dog) made it home last week after a 14-hour road trip to the coast of beautiful South Carolina. Fourteen hours (each way) is a long time, and sane people might question why we’d do such a thing when planes exist. We would’ve loved to fly, but we couldn’t agree on which one of us would have to sell an organ on the black market to afford summer airfare for five people. So instead, we rented a big minivan so there’d be room for one high school senior, one 19-year-old college kid measuring six-foot-two, one 21-year-old college senior, two middle-aged parents, and one 80-pound Goldendoodle. We planned this trip at the beginning of the […]

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Last night, my 16-year-old daughter and I had a “stress dream.” Do you have them, too? If not, you’re lucky. Most people have repetitive dreams when stress is higher than usual or when a big event is on the horizon. My most common stress dream is the one where I’m back in college, running late for a class but can’t figure out where the class is being held. I search the campus for what feels like hours, turning one way and then the other. So much walking. So much searching. And then it hits me that not only am I lost and late, there’s also a final exam happening in this class, and I haven’t studied at all. Then at […]

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Greetings from under the heat dome, where the air is thick, and we’re all damp in unpleasant places. There’s no convenient time to be in a heat dome with temps over 100 degrees, but it’s particularly problematic when your 50-year-old body has decided to have its own internal heat dome at the same time. Both situations are temporary, but the heat dome that takes over women’s bodies can blaze even when it’s a chilly 68 degrees in the house. Everyone else in the family says they’re freezing. Men, please stay with me here. This feels like such an awkward topic, yet it shouldn’t be. I can’t even believe I’m writing it down, but I trust my readers. I’ve shared far […]

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Warren. That was his name. I didn’t know him, but I knew he was a bad kid. He was getting busted by our teacher every day. In 1983 at Julia Shannon Elementary School, I had music class twice a week during fourth grade. Every time my class lined up and shuffled into the music room, Warren’s name was already on the chalkboard. I assumed he’d already had music class that day and had broken the rules. The music teacher was patient, but when she got angry at someone, she’d write their name on the chalkboard under Warren’s name. Getting your name on the board was a “first strike,” and any subsequent bad behavior got you a one-way ticket to the […]

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