Sick burn, four-year old.
My heart breaks at the news out of Las Vegas. I am sharing the post I wrote about the aftermath of Orlando and a shooting at a dance club in my home of Fort Myers. The words I wrote then remain true today: I refuse to remain silent. I refuse to stay numb. And I am tired of this madness.
This morning I found myself standing in a strip mall less than a mile away from where I used to live, a dozen roses in my hand and more than two dozen reporters in my face.
I was standing on the site of the latest mass shooting in America.
A reporter asked me was why I was there.
I’d thought about this as I purchased a bouquet of small yellow roses at my local Winn-Dixie this morning. (What types of flowers are suitable to leave at memorials for mass shootings? I wondered. This is now a question we have to ask ourselves in America.)
I thought about gun violence as I made the twenty-three minute drive north from my home, driving past my church that only five short weeks ago hosted a vigil for the Orlando mass shooting victims. I thought about it as I exited the…
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Imagine a parental stress continuum. At one end is the mythical and totally unatainable smiling happy family lounging on a white couch. At the other end: stress-eating peanut butter out of the jar at midnight.
Pass the coffee.
Palm tree, meet Baptist. Baptist, meet fallen palm tree.
Do I want to write about how grateful I am for safe drinking water, cool air and hot food? (Very.) Do I want to write about but there for the grace of God go I?
I want to keep my hands busy and create something, anything. I want them to work like a spider creates a web and cast a net of protection across everyone I love. I'm safe and yet I can't help but think of my neighbors, my friends, and even the strangers who sought water along with… Continue reading How to survive a hurricane
The silver lining is that our dream of a BBQ tour of the south is becoming a reality.
What would you bring if you had to evacuate? Would it fit in one yellow crate? I think you would be surprised to discover that it would.
Sure am glad I didn't dawdle getting to the airport and while running late accidentally park my rental car in the wrong return lane and be told I have to go inside to fix it, only to find out that no I need to go back outside to get a slip from the very chatty car… Continue reading Final boarding call.