Follow Your Heart

When we really think about it, the expression enables us to avoid all of the confusion of leading and following or jumping through life’s hoops, circles, and squares. “Following your heart,” seems to sometimes place us exactly where we need or are supposed to be.

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The “Whipping Post”

Just because we’re not gathering the whole town around to publicly humiliate someone doesn’t mean the essence of the “Whipping Post” is completely abolished.

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Mad Hatters

“REAL friends” and “REAL relationships” do not develop and remain effortlessly, without work.

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Single vs. Attached- Survival of the Fittest

If we apply Darwin’s evolutionary theory’s to dating… how do we ensure we are among the “fittest?”

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Attack of the Weddings: In the Spirit of MST3K...

Weddings. (Ugh)

 

One of the great (moneymaking) institutions in America, matrimony (and the subsequent reproduction) is viewed by many to be the peak of the average American’s life. Recently I’ve had the honor of attending two separate weddings in only eight days (you poor soul...) which turned out to be the gauntlet signaling the end of my wedding season.

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Love in the Most Unlikely of All Places

For those of you Wal-Mart haters out there, STOP reading this blog post immediately. You will not like what it reveals about the uber-capitalistic, hick magnet, mega mart conglomerate. But if you are like me and love Wal-Mart for not only its great savings, but the endless hours of amusement which its shoppers and employees provide, by all means, continue reading. I have an amazing, little known fact about Wal-Mart history to share with you – a love story so to speak. Not only can you buy your ring there for the low, low price of $26.56, Wal-Mart can host your wedding too!! Ring the wedding bells, put on your best pair of black jeans and tuxedo t-shirt (cut off sleeves welcome), and roll back those prices!

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Bee Stings

The other day my six-year-old daughter said something to me that pierced my heart. I was in the middle of my daily after-work routine of rushing from one after-care site to another, swinging the minivan into the public places that care for my children. As I was robotically fastening her seatbelt, my mind preoccupied with unimportant thoughts, she quietly said into her lap, “I wish I was never born.” At that moment, my knees actually buckled. I looked at her for the first real time that day and asked her why. She admitted, with the raw embarrassment of a child, that she had no one to play with at recess.

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