He was a teenager. That’s the first bit of information I should share with you before you judge me.
From the age of 13 to 15, he changed from a huggable, lovable son who bought me flowers to a changing-voiced male who thought that most of what I said was either simple, silly, or just plain stupid.
I understood. After all, I wasn’t ancient enough to not remember how I felt as a teen. Continue reading
When my mom was in her mid-80s, she asked that we visit a tattoo parlor together.
“Let’s get mother/daughter tattoos, maybe with a heart design,” she suggested. Continue reading
Bravery comes in all sizes and shapes. And ages.
When my CA grandson (12) flew out on his own to visit my guy and me, he received his second vaccine shot the day before. We were all a bit worried about him flying with side effects, but when we picked him up at the airport (see Oh, you’re one of THOSE | roughwighting ) he just shrugged and said “I slept for the entire 6 ½ hour flight.”
Easy peasy. Or so I thought. 
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When was the last time you were embarrassed?
Embarrassment is defined as mild to severe levels of discomfort, usually experienced when someone commits a socially unacceptable or frowned-upon act.
The older I get, the less embarrassed I am. Hey, take me as I am, or don’t take me at all. But one of the stories in my just-published “flash memoir,” Flashes of Life: True Tales of the Extraordinary in the Ordinary, includes a tale entitled “How to Embarrass Your Kids.” Readers have told me they relate to my (tee hee) gleeful moments of embarrassing my progeny. Not in a mean way, but …. 
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