Her Words

Patient Zero was sleeping in my bed

Caution: The contents of this blog might not be suitable for some squeamish readers. Len and Jack went to the nursing home to visit Mammaw this past Sunday afternoon. When they arrived at the front desk, the receptionist warned them to enter at their own risk as the stomach virus was sweeping through the facility like the plague. Had I been…

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His Words

50 shades of sore: My fling with a sofa sleeper

My oldest son just started a great job with a great company in the great city of Nashville. (And all the other parents my age said, “Amen!”) Here’s what I’ve observed: When young adults launch out these days, they have very little in the way of home furnishings. What they own is lots of electronic gadgets and Blu-Ray movies, but…

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Her Words

Drama queens and zebras

In 2004, at the insistence of my boys, I watched the movie Napoleon Dynamite. Napoleon was an awkward, unpopular high school guy who just wanted to fit in. Never have I felt so uncomfortable watching a teen try to figure out how to engage his community of peers. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to laugh, cry, or beat…

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Cruella De Vil’s got nothing on us

In my previous post, I promised a story explaining one of the reasons the Woods family should have a family therapist on retainer. One lovely spring Saturday as Len and I milled around in our pjs, sipping on our high and holy first cups of coffee, we heard our dog, Scout, barking at something in the backyard. Obviously it’s not unusual for…

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