I love tattoos. I got my first tattoo when I was 20. My sister took me to a tattoo place in the Highlands neighborhood of Louisville and my tat was done by this biker dude with a long beard who couldn’t stop laughing at me because I hyperventilated and nearly passed out from the pain. When it was done, approximately 4 minutes later, I had a tiny (1 inch tall) tattoo of a yellow daisy on my outside left ankle. My 20-year-old self loved that tat. I felt like a badass. My sister, of course, spent the next decade commenting about my “mole” that looked like a flower because it was so small.
Family
If the spiritual journey is like a winding road, I’m stuck on a bypass…
Tim and I have 90% of our conversations about religion in the car. Not sure why it happens that way, but when we’re heading somewhere is when, inevitably, the conversation turns to religion. Continue reading
Four years – a family
I meant to post this on January 23rd, but I failed to do so. That was the four year anniversary of the day we brought home the wiggly, gassy ball of adorable four-month-old fur that we named Roxie. Continue reading
We pulled the plug!
We did it. After a lot of discussion and, on Tim’s part, a lot of soul-searching, we pulled the plug. We took our entertainment options off life support and canceled our cable TV. Continue reading
Separate beds
We’ve reached the point in our marriage where we’ve agreed that it’s time for separate beds… and we both couldn’t be happier about it! Continue reading
Call Me Laura…
Yesterday, I took a trip to Walnut Grove. I was a modern day Laura Ingalls, blazing through the Polar Vortex or Snowpocalypse 2014 or whatever it was that made Indianapolis slightly colder than Antartica. Bundled against the temperature, we used candles and oil lamps to help heat our home because our furnace couldn’t beat the cold drafts coming through our doors and icing up our window frames like a freezer badly in need of defrosting. We scrounged for food. We only went outside when necessary. And most importantly (and most pioneer-like), we were without internet. Or cable. *gasp*
Bitterness
2014 came in much the same way 2013 did. Platitudes. Promises. Pleadings for a second (or seventh or eleventh or twentieth) chance. Continue reading
An unexpectedly blessed Christmas
I approached the Christmas season with a healthy amount of dread, as I have previously wrote about in this post. I planned on avoiding all family gatherings and had a great excuse because of the hours I was working the fact that I would need any time off to rest. But, as it often happens, things change. Continue reading
Life on Wild Hare Farm 