I have determined a lot comes down to my cuticles. If someone wants to know where I’m at, how close to the losing-my-shit line I am, or whether or not I’ve had bread for breakfast and lunch, all they need to do is look at my cuticles. I’m not a cuticle abuser; the opposite, when…
Roses are blooming in my front yard— dozens of them. I have never had a rosebush, much less a whole yard full. My experience with roses stops at a vase. And while they are lovely, when we first moved in, I decided I was not a rose person. I know that’s ridiculous, but sometimes I…
I have been looking for the perfect bra since the little training ones no longer did the trick. Shopping for bras is such an awkward process no matter the cup. One minute articles or actresses chastise the media for not embracing the female form. The mantra-of-the-moment is that my breasts should be celebrated and happy in…