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Hindsight’s supposedly 20/20, but the lens of time only softens the jagged edges of my memories, saturating gray moments and placing them in Technicolor light. Last week, for instance, I strolled through the aisles of my husband and my outlet grocery

The night Tiffany was delivered, my husband and I crouched over her bed, lovingly watching as she nestled down in the covers and made soft whining sounds.“Despite having fangs and no opposable thumbs, isn’t she just perfect?” I breathed. My

It almost felt like we were Peeping Toms as my husband and I clustered around the computer screen, avidly watching the most intimate details of this young family’s life for the twentieth time in less than ten days. We laughed

I’d passed her before. In the fiercest of elements, I had driven right passed the elderly woman carrying a sack of groceries bigger than she was. I’d always wanted to stop, but somehow an excuse always presented itself: the Jeep

Considering I coined the phrase, “I’m not the sharpest Crayon in the box,” my blunder at Union Bank shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anybody, especially me. But early Thursday morning, when my husband said that Douglas McCallister’s deposit

As the sun-starved trees burst into bloom and the woodland creatures start kicking up their heels, batting their twitterpated eyes and getting frisky, in the background one can hear the unmistakable tickings of a biological clock.But it isn't mine. Oh,

If my husband knew the date he was going to die, he’d probably slink off into the woods like my childhood cat Bootsie and would never be seen or heard from again. Me? I’d want Rose Bowl Parade floats and a

Apocalypse! War! Rations! Raids! These words affect me like the ringing of Pavlov’s bell; and although I do not drool or crouch in a corner at the utterance of them, sometimes I come mighty close. I don’t know why I am