“Mom, where are you?”
“I don’t know! But I was lost the last time I was here.”
My feisty mom, who
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This morning, I swept the paving stones, the ones that lead from our driveway to the front door to the garden and to the street. Please. Hold your applause.
It might not sound like much. Even though there are 130 of them. And maybe more, still buried under
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Cruising down the road on auto-pilot, I’m engrossed in the conversation on NPR’s “Air Talk.” Host Larry Mantle is the calm in the eye of so many storms for me. He can broach a triggering topic, the mere mention of which would otherwise leave me crumpled and cursing,
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I sit down at my desk, proud of myself for getting this close to being productive, then I nearly spew my organic, fair trade tea. The email on my screen blasts: “Free Yourself From Single-Use Plastic in July.”
Is this some kind of sick joke, Earth911?
Opening the mailbox on my birthday, I am pleased to find my latest Mighty Fix. I never thought I’d be so excited about getting a cleaning product in the mail. It’s the surprise of this monthly subscription that makes it fun, never knowing exactly what eco-friendly gem
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