I open my daughter’s refrigerator and frown. Hot dogs. Chicken nuggets. Left-over spaghetti. Root beer.
When I’d received my daughter’s desperate plea: “Can you come watch the kids? We have to go to a town meeting and the babysitter just bailed,” it was almost past my bedtime (kidding, kinda) – 7:00 p.m. My guy and I had just finished dinner and on a whim, I brought the leftovers. Continue reading
I’m not an easy flyer, and I know many of you aren’t either.
So imagine this.
I’m on an airplane leaving the city of love to return to the city of champions, and incidentally, the city where 9/11 began.
I keep my head buried in my book, burying as well memories and misgivings, expectations and excitement on my upcoming re-location. But the fellow sitting next to me (I’m in the aisle, he’s in the window seat, with no one in between), in his early 40s, well-dressed with the requisite 2-day-old beard and unscuffed suede loafers, continually looks at his watch.
Over and over again. Continue reading