Mother of all love

"It's not a contact sport" my behind. Thursday a song about unrequited love kept running through my head as I tried desperately to fly over traffic to rush my 16-year-old to the hospital after he broke his wrist in a soccer scrimmage.  Funny how a...

Re:collection

"I just wanna tiss, it, kay?"  It was her standard line to get away with murder of the four-year-old variety. Earnest eyes, furrowed brow and nodding head, practiced assurances she'd deliver on that promise.  Saucer-sized baby blues have...

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