Generally speaking, I don’t much care for birds. I can tolerate little finches and sparrows; anything bigger than that makes me nervous. (Hummingbirds, too—they move so fast and have no sense of personal boundaries.) I’m especially nervous around fowl, including chickens and geese, but most of all, I am terrified of turkeys. Continue reading “Turkey terror”
I don’t remember the first time someone told me I looked just like my Aunt Kelly. It’s happened often enough that I’ve internalized it. I don’t mind; she is beautiful, and so I consider it a profound compliment. Continue reading “The Sugarbee Effect”
I never much cared for biking. It wasn’t that I disliked it, specifically; more that I didn’t care about it.
When my folks got married, they each had separate interests and hobbies, so they picked one to do together. I guess it worked, because thirty-four years later, they still ride their road bikes all summer. They have never ridden a tandem, another factor I believe has contributed to the success of their marriage. Continue reading “I want to ride my bicycle”
A few weeks ago, I casually mentioned to a coworker that I was an only child. He just has the one kid, so it’s not like this was a totally foreign concept to him, but he practically did a double take. Continue reading “No siblings, no problem”
A few weekends ago, I skied with my mom. We made the traditional bagel stop before hitting the highway, drove up and over Berthoud Pass, and parked at the base of Mary Jane. Eventually, I would demand we break for a giant brownie at the lodge. Everything was exactly like when I was a kid. Continue reading “Mom knows best”