I don’t know about your Nor’easter, but my Nor’easter dumps a lot of snow! But it’s so lovely. When I go out in the middle of it to feed the birds (those little flying mosquito-eaters), I shovel a bit.
“What?” you exclaim. “You shovel in the middle of the storm?”
Of course I do. Now, in the middle of the storm. Why should I? Let me count the ways.
I had kinda pictured this moment of intimacy differently. In the movies, pivotal moments such as The First Kiss Moment usually involved some sort of touching; you know, a cuddle, an arm draped over my shoulder, or at least hand-holding. They hardly ever involved scowling over folded arms.
The First Kiss Moment – Romance Outside Of A Book Read More »
If you are going to shovel for exercise, Wiggle Writer applauds you. But if you live in CT, you haven’t done much shoveling this year, so be a savvy shoveler. This is how you convert shoveling from an overuse injury producer, into a healthy full-body workout:
I have heard several times that authors should not bother reading their book reviews because they take you on a emotional roller coaster ride. Me, I read every single one. (What can I say? I’m a new author. And I don’t mind roller coasters.)
Now, it’s your turn. Share a goal with your teen you would like to achieve by June. That makes you accountable, too. Come up with an appropriate reward for your achievement. Then create a reward the two of you can share when you both reach your goals. Teamwork!
Is this the scenario of your post-holiday feasts? Bodies strewn all over the living room furniture. Belts loosened. Groans of regret fill the air. “I’ll never eat that much again!”
Fifteen minutes later the hostess enters the room and announces dessert is ready. Groaning ceases. Bodies haul themselves into upright positions. Glazed eyes become focused. “I suppose I could manage just a little bit of something-something.” The living room empties and the dining room overflows.
The steady stream of passengers making their way to their airport departure gates suddenly breaks down into a series of eddies around which men swirl as the women are halted by one quavering word.
The steady stream of passengers making their way to their airport departure gates suddenly breaks down into a series of eddies around which men swirl as the women are halted by one quavering word.
“Papa?”
The young voice instantly brings nearby mothers of all ages, creeds, nationalities, and ethnicities to a state of alert so high, Homeland Security is jealous.
“Papa??” The little voice rises in pitch and volume, kicking into gear the auto-locator inherent to members of The Mom Tribe.
It’s true. 20 Minutes can change your life…depending on how you fill those 20 minutes. Do you have 20 minutes to learn how to help the planet? Or 20 minutes to
