06 Jul The Struggle is Real
I count things. I realize not everything that counts can be counted, but I still count things—by twos. Some people might think it’s an obsessive compulsive disorder. I like to think it brings more order than disorder. And if you read my last blog about Wardrobe Wearabouts, the Dewey Decimal System I created for my closet, I’m sure this doesn’t surprise you. But, many years before that, back when life was simpler, kids were expected to play outside, and weren’t expected to come home until the street lights came on—that’s how our summers were spent and we loved it. I remember coming home after playing and sweating in the hot sun all day, covered in dirt, tan from the sunshine, and plumb tuckered out. My siblings and I would take a bath and prepare to watch Donny and Marie or Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters—variety shows were so ‘in’ back then—no wonder America’s Got Talent is so popular these days; it’s good, clean family fun. I’d prepare our pre-show bedtime snack of Coca-Cola and M&M’s, something we looked forward to all day long. The three of us would share a bottle of Coke—a real, 16-ounce, glass bottle that we’d return to...
