We just trust that the disembodied voices we are following know where they are going.

I’m not being very friendly to this stranger who knows me. I’m too busy trying to figure out who she is. Who is she?

I’ve always appreciated having my friend, Mishka, in the car when I’m going to have an accident. I try not to have an accident without her.

You don’t hear too much about teenagers today subjecting their skin to the sun’s powerful and damaging rays. But when I was in school, my summers were all about how tan I could get.

So, there you have it. Aside from being astoundingly simple minded, I am a thief. (But you know this already if you read one of my previous posts.)

But when I reach for the doorknob, it won’t move. It is locked.

He had asked where I had gone to put well over 50 miles on the odometer. I didn’t have a ready answer. My friends and I really hadn’t “gone” anywhere.

We could argue about whether or not our exposures were indecent. We thought they were hilarious.

I’ve lied to my mom on a few occasions. I’m sure you’ve probably lied to your mom too. Am I right? Did she find out? My mom always found out.

I had started to write a story about our dog Roxie, who died almost two years ago. It got me thinking about our former dog, Foxy. The main reason we adopted Roxie out of all the other doggy orphans, is because she reminded us so much of Foxy, who had to be put down inRead moreRead more