Ah, Thanksgiving. That magical time of year when we gather around a table to share a meal, give thanks, and tiptoe through a minefield of wildly inappropriate conversation topics.
Ah, Thanksgiving. That magical time of year when we gather around a table to share a meal, give thanks, and tiptoe through a minefield of wildly inappropriate conversation topics.
There was a time — not all that long ago — when I could hop in my car at night, cruise the roads, and actually see where I was going. The lines on the road? Clear. Street signs? Legible. Oncoming traffic? Not a blinding assault on my retinas.
Ah, November. That awkward, seasonal no-man’s land where Halloween is over, but it still feels way too soon to deck the halls.
There comes a time in every adult’s life when you must face the reckoning.
No, not tax season.
Not even your annual physical.
I’m talking about… The Closet Clean-Out.
Why does everything — and I mean everything — have to turn political?
You could post a picture of a pancake and someone will accuse the syrup of being too liberal. Or conservative. Or French. Whatever side they’re on, you’ve clearly betrayed it by enjoying breakfast in peace.
There is no safe space.
It’s August. You’ve reached that magical part of the year where everything is hot, sticky, and somehow smells like sunscreen, regret, and barbecue residue. It’s still 89 degrees outside, but Target wants you to believe you need a 12-pack of mini Snickers for trick-or-treaters who won’t show up for another 80 days.
Summer is slipping. Like sand in a cracked pail. If you blink, it’ll be pumpkin spice season and people will wear flannel like they’re headed to chop wood, even though they live in a condo with radiant floor heating.