Driving in Ireland
On one fateful Saturday—October 23, 2004, to be precise—my husband, George, and I, and Jack and Ann (George’s brother and sister-in-law) boarded a plane for Shannon, Ireland. The trip had been decided on and planned so rapidly I did not have time to be excited, until that was, after the
The Honeymoon Was Over
It was the seventh of February 1985 and I stood in my parent’s driveway with my father and brother as well as my new other half. I wore a rabbit fur jacket with its shoulder pads wide and broad, it rivaled my bigger than life hair which needed half a
Chicken Lovers
“Chicken murderer!” These words had echoed in my head while the sunshine filtered softly into my husband’s office; his worked laid out in the form of piles of papers and the low hum of a printer in the next room. I could only look at him. The soft chucking voices
Brave
We lived in a home on a large pond surrounded by trees, which housed an assortment of wild life. This house met all of my criteria when we bought it: twenty minutes from work, neighbors close enough in case of an emergency but far enough away they wouldn’t bother me.