I pass blocks upon blocks of yards on our daily walks. Some of these spaces are fenced, some are nothing to brag about and others are dotted with color. So much color that Mom feels compelled to whip out her camera and snap a few photos. I enjoy peeing on the outcropping of flowers dotting […]
When Mom starts banging pots in the kitchen, I go into what I call my mediate-with-promise state. This means I quickly jump off the couch; switch to slow speed as I saunter to the outskirts of the kitchen proper. I want Mom to know I’m close, but not so close that I’m underfoot. My Mama
When I Hear the Kitchen Pots Banging Read More »