The Dolly Mama Diaries
I can replay a conversation, reconsider a decision, and examine something from seventeen different angles. By angle eighteen, I’m tired, confused, and no closer to an answer. Maybe we don’t need a ...
Relaxing Shouldn’t Be This Much Work
Why is relaxing without guilt so much work? Before I can read a book or pick up a paintbrush, Judge Joey demands evidence that I’ve earned it. Apparently, happiness needs a permission slip.
I’ve been called stubborn since birth. Sometimes that leads to a shaved head and a pink bow. Other times, it leads to the Dolly Mamas.
Turns Out My Dolly Mama Was Right
I drew this Dolly Mama over twenty years ago. Back then I thought she was funny because… well… I was forty-one. Forty-one-year-old me didn't actually have wrinkles. Turns out she wasn't making a jo...
The Three Letters That Made Me Panic
My brother texted me "Mom has, IMO…" and I did what any responsible sixty-something would do. I panicked. Then looked it up. According to Dr. Google, IMO stands for Intestinal Methanogen Overgrowth...
My Ego Thinks I'm Amazing. My Anxiety Would Like a Word.
I can convince myself I should be running the country — and five minutes later, I apologize to a self-checkout machine. Nobody has it all together. They're just better at hiding the junk drawer.
The Unexpected Gift of Getting Older: You Simply Stop Giving a Duck
There comes a point in life when something magical happens. You wake up one morning, notice a new chin hair, a mysterious ache in your left hip… and instead of having a complete emotional breakdown...