Gone Girlfriend

Gone Girlfriend

Here’s my latest essay, originally published by my new favorite online publication, P.S. I Love You. Their tagline is, ‘Writing from the heart. Stories about life, loss and love in the digital age.’ So I think it’s a good fit. Click on over and give me a “clap,” would ya? The more claps, the more readers, the more readers, the less lonely people in the world. That’s how I see it playing out anyway.

I read a lot of books written by women for other women. Also, a lot of female authored blogs, articles, posts, social media shout-outs and shoe descriptions on Zappos. I’ve noticed a lot of ladies I admire and respect like to write a lot about girlfriends. Specifically, how phenomenal theirs are. Like, really and truly PHENOMENAL. And something isn’t sitting right with me.

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I Sweat The Small Stuff

I Sweat The Small Stuff

I understand that our God only gives us what we can handle. And that we are allowed to go through challenging circumstances that purpose to shape us and change us for the better. So apparently I can handle neck acne. I didn’t even know this was a thing, but it is, because I have it. Adult acne in traditional locations is already frustrating enough. I know because I’ve struggled with it forever. I have it under control right now for the most part, oddly enough via the use of blood pressure medication. Some smart people discovered that relief from acne was an after-market effect of a medication designed to lower blood pressure. And since I am guessing my blood pressure would have been sky-high for much of the last couple of years, I’m getting a fantastic two-fer with this stuff. But back to the point, all of a sudden I have a persistent grouping of painful and unsightly pimples that play leapfrog from side to side on my neck. This is bullshit.

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Are You Sure About That?

Are You Sure About That?

I have an incredibly hard time getting through self-help books or articles, no matter how great the content or how badly I need to absorb its particular wisdom and use it to try to ease on down, ease on down the road of life. Stories are what grab my attention and won’t let go. Stories are how I relate with the world and back to it. The only kind of self-help I can offer you is my special brand of don’t-try-this-at-home type anecdotes. My stories. Or, if you refuse to listen and do indeed try it at home, I can also then offer up how you might try to fix it.

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