I was at a dinner party last month with four other couples. The hosts had just celebrated their 34th anniversary and, in a nod to their matrimonial longevity, they asked each of us to answer the following: What important question did you not ask your spouse before you got married?
I don't really want to wade into the conversation about sexual abuse/rape culture/whether who did what to whom was worse than what someone else supposedly only talked about doing. But it's the elephant in the universe.
Unbelievably, we are moving again.
This past month I took my mother from Atlanta to Denver, Colo., to meet her great-granddaughter, Nova, for the first time. The plan was for my sister, her husband and her youngest daughter to also drive up from Colorado Springs.
A few weeks ago I misplaced my mind and suggested that my husband and I and another couple try stand-up paddleboarding. In case you aren't familiar with it, this is an activity that employs a floating board, a paddle, a body of water, a capacity for loosely related flashbacks and a few hours of your life you can never get back.
I'm not the most faithless person I've ever met, but I'm not the most faithful either. This is one of the thoughts that came to me as I tidied the house in anticipation of my mother-in-law's visit.
There are few things I like less than exercising. For the record, these include dying, eating poison, math and extracting jewelry from the toilet.
My husband called from Arizona, where he was at an art show, to tell me about his dream.
My husband's father died last month after a long and painful battle with something called Lewy body dementia. He had been ill for five or so years and in steep decline for two.
At the end of last year, a friend sent me a list of great questions to ask. They included things like: What were your goals for 2015? What did you do right? What did failure teach you? How often did you make yourself uncomfortable?
