It Doesn’t Matter

When I went to put my pajamas on my last thought of the day was oh my gosh Karen get yourself some new PJ’s.  You have a closet full of shoes, some you never wear, but threadbare jams.  It’s ridiculous.  Ending your day with such negative self-talk is not a good sign and, in this case, things went even further downhill.  Before I’d even made it into bed I was thinking about my mother’s sweatshirt.  This sweatshirt makes my pajama bottoms look new.  Worse than the shirt is what it

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Remembering to Forget

Countless times I’ve told friends my sweetie loves the dog more than me.  I don’t actually believe this I just say it to describe the depth of his affection.  Also, to sound like I’m less attached to the dog than he is.  However, the truth is Buddy and I are knit together like a sweater. When I’m home he never leaves my side and when I return, he lets me know he felt unraveled.  This has made the last couple months especially hard.  Something, our vet can’t figure out, is

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Dancing Queen

More than once I’ve come home struck by the thought that the fear of death shouldn’t have to be the thing that prompts you to let go of bad memories. In a perfect world it should simply be the recognition that they’re weighing you down.

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It’s Not Personal

I could see the numbers climbing and feel my anxiety pulse like someone was taking my blood pressure. Two hundred and seventy-five developmentally disabled people and their hundred plus caregivers are a lot of folks to be responsible for.  What if someone has a seizure on the dance floor or trips the fire alarm?  Or far worse–what if someone intent on doing something horrible shows up? The list of what-if’s is as long as the guest list for Prom. I know I wouldn’t be doing my job well if I

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20/80

The appointment card sat on my desk for three months. Over those months various penny finds would sit next to it.  Each one had a story I kept meaning to write but couldn’t take past the idea stage.  I’d jot some notes but the page would stare back at me just like that card.  Fatigue is to blame for the writer’s block.  The demands of carrying for my aging mother while helping my kid’s transition into adult life are taking their toll. I could have moved the card. Put it

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Bunny Mamas

I was headed home after golf when my friend Bubba stopped me to say hello. Bubba, as his name would suggest, is one of the most gregarious men I know. He could have a funny or heartfelt conversation with a total stranger at a funeral home. His humor and kindness stretch that far. “How are the boys?” he asks. “Oh they’re fine.  Finishing up second semester,” I say with a sigh. “Was it a tough one?” “Oh yeah.” “What you’ve done with those boys is amazing Kären.” “I don’t know

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