Big news in the neighborhood.
I was walking home after dropping my daughter off at school one morning and absentmindedly looked across the street at a house that’s been on the market since August 2010.
Then I did a double take. Was there actually a “SOLD” sign out front?
... here's a little pick-me-up.
It was cleaning day in the newsroom last week, and as I was going through old files and recycling and tossing I glanced down at the word magnets on my desk drawer.
My daughter likes to play with them when she's here waiting for me to finish an assignment. I hadn't noticed her latest creation:
I have a confession to make: I am a slug.
Not that I don't work hard (most weeks, anyway). In fact, my job has kept me so busy these past few months (investigations, confrontations, resignations) that I haven't really had much time to blog.
In a moment of weakness, many months ago, my husband volunteered (well, I volunteered us, meaning him) to chaperone a bunch of middle-school band students at Disney World over spring break.
I was (pretty) confident he was up to the task. What I didn’t know is that he would set a new chaperone record.
I came home the other day to find my daughter finishing up one of her many art creations.
She proudly showed me a sheet of paper with a half-dozen detailed drawings around the edges — things like hairstyling, makeup, jewelry. In the middle was the title: “It’s a girl thing.”
We’re invoking the rule of threes in our household these days.
Not celebrities. Two appliances teetering on the brink of death and a third ready to follow any day.
We have three children in our family: a son, a daughter and a little pink bear named Teddy.
He (she?) has been my daughter’s constant companion for as long as she can recall — and even before.
Teddy has seen better days. He and my daughter are both 8, you see, which must be old for a stuffed bear.
We have hit that stage of parenthood when prescreening movies may not be a bad idea.
A good friend recently invited our son to a movie at the Virginia Theatre with a group of other sixth-graders.
It was “Christmas Vacation,” which I’d never seen, but some classic scenes from the other two movies in National Lampoon’s 1980s comedy series did come to mind.
I got a reality check the other day from my son.
“Hey Mom,” he asked in all earnestness, “what does our dining room table look like?”
It’s important to note that this particular piece of furniture is not hidden away in storage where he can’t see it. He has to walk past it approximately 10 times a day.
First, the bad news: the breezeway isn’t finished yet.
The good news: we are in the homestretch.