One of the best places to unwind after a murder is in the bathtub, planning your next romantic getaway. In case you wondered about that sort of thing. I never really did, as I hadn’t previously considered traveling this road at all — and certainly not alongside my kids.

But then, who could have foreseen the events of that day? The intricate web of happenstance delicately interwoven with misplaced trust and just a touch of good ol’ fashioned roughhousing…

It all began when our good friend, Bobby, announced a fresh litter of rabbits on Facebook. An important point to remember…


A machete. Two brand new pillows. A coffee pot. A freezer full of ice. All that finger-wagging and nay-saying from fellow ex-pats about befriending the Tico folk; we still insisted on leaving behind our most precious commodities for local friends “Rasta” Wilson, his wife, and their baby boy. It was our way of rebelling against authority. Peaceful protest against the slow but sure “civilization” occurring in what was once a relatively unknown, undisturbed slice of Central American coastal paradise.

Plus, we didn’t want Gary to get ahold of them. An aged hippie from somewhere in… Kentucky, I think?… pretending to…


I tried to put on my toughest-looking unfazed persona. But deep down, I felt more than a little creeped out.

Thank God for those ladies, I thought, watching the two women across the park practicing their kickboxing moves to the sounds of DJ EZ Rock. “It takes two to make a thing go right… it takes two to make it outa sight…”

Without turning my head, I could sense him still there behind me. A thirty-something dude with a man bun sitting astride his small bike staring off at the landscape. …


Yesterday was a DAY. Ya know… the kinda day where you’re trying to hang in there but honestly just wishing it to be over already?

The kids would not let me be. Somehow, they always seem to sense when I need space, and then do the EXACT opposite. They’re like the worst clingy significant other (times a trillion).

On top of that, Nick and I were not vibing. And when my road dawg — the only other person who fully shares and understands this particular parenting/life/adulting prison cell — doesn’t “get” me, I am truly lost.

Yet every time we…


It’s been exactly 60 days since I dropped nearly all my clients and stepped away from my copywriting career indefinitely.

To anyone who asks, I respond that I’m taking a “soul summer.” Spending more time with Nick and the kids. Soaking up some sun. Freeloading instead of freelancing. Oh, how lovely and whimsical. Even brave. Admirable. What courage! What pluck!

But it isn’t quiiiiite the whole truth. Because the whole truth sounds fully insane.

(And here it comes…)

Why did I quit my steady freelance work, risking my family’s finances right at the dawn of a pandemic recession? …


A weird kid turned functional adult shares how the pandemic effectively erased a decade of social polishing in a matter of months.

In second grade, I took to muttering swear words under my breath throughout the day, until Miss Woodward — a flowy-skirted, well-meaning recent college grad — called in my parents to discuss how to redirect the dark and dismal turn my life was taking. Buncha f*ckin’ bullshit.

The following year, I spent an entire day (or two) walking around with my chin high in the air because it made my hair seem longer. In fact, all it did…


Wow, what a wild ride the last 4 years have been (politically speaking)… and still are. Amid the constant barrage of insanity, we, our closest friends, and probably most of America have turned rather cynical and hopeless at times. For some, this increasingly threatens to become a permanent way of being.

Desperate to make some sort of positive headway and prove that you can, in fact, bridge the growing divide of American politics, I sought insight from both “sides” found in the perspectives of my ultra-conservative family and ultra-liberal friends. …


Bunny Killer

80% guilt, 20% boredom.

That was the emotional cocktail which led us to bring home a 3-month old rabbit. See, we- my husband and I- agreed in early January that 2020 would be the year we’d finally give in to my daughter’s obsessive requests for ice skating or horseback riding lessons, and/or a bunny.

(No) thanks to COVID-19, a bunny was the only remaining promise on which we could deliver.

Lovingly dubbed “Chocolate” by my kids- a result of her cocoa-colored coat- she was nothing much more than a wandering, snacking poop machine. I really didn’t expect to…


There’s a symphony going on around you all the time. Can you hear it?

Rays of sunlight in a cave

My entire adult life has been a struggle.

A constant striving to find comfort, security, and peace through things I can see and measure.

Reasonable things like my job, relationships, money, recognition, physical beauty, and the like.

Thin and fragile substitutes for real, lasting fulfillment.

These dim versions of hope and comfort are nothing but imposters. Deep down, you and I know this all along.

But, unable or unwilling to seek out the true source of such things, we gladly accept a watered-down cocktail that will…


It doesn’t matter how much you shelter them. Eventually, every kid learns about Pennywise the “cloud.”

“Can I tell you this?” he asked, his head cocked to one side, a quizzical look on his face.

The question was usually followed up by a confession of some sort: he ate all the yogurt packets, ventured into the kitchen at midnight to hoover leftover Halloween candy, broke an extraneous piece of hardware off of the kitchen table…

Without waiting for a response, the boy launched into a circuitous tale about playing with some older boys at recess — wood chip throwing and…

Lo-Writer

Writing + abiding in Montana (or wherever’s clever).

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