Pen Pals – The Best Friend that Money Can Buy
They say that money can’t buy friends. Fortunately that’s not true: In 1984, I bought one of my best friends for $.50.
I am setting forth on a new adventure and working on putting together a book proposal. Technically this would be my first solo book, although I have been honored to be part of several humor and parenting anthologies.
When putting together my portfolio for prospective agents, I will be highlighting several of my published pieces. But really, I think all anyone needs to see is this unpublished treasure that my mom recently discovered while cleaning out her garage. Don’t be surprised if you someday see this 1980 classic, “The Dogs that Never Stoped Loveing,” in the Smithsonian….(or back in the bottom of a box in the attic.)
Hi. I’m Susanne. And I’m done being embarrassed that I take an antidepressant for an anxiety disorder.
I mean, seriously, I have so many other things that I should be embarrassed about, like that time in the fourth grade when I didn’t have an act for the talent show so I just walked back and forth on the stage, doing random, jerky, Rockettes-style kicks to the J. Geil’s Band song, “Centerfold.”
That was embarrassing.
Today’s the big day – the day that Jen Mann’s anthology, I Just Want to Be Perfect, is officially released. It is the absolute perfect book for summer reading
The book is full of 37 stories of women trying to be perfect and failing in spectacular ways. By some stroke of luck, my story is one of them!
Imagine not being able to speak to your family and friends. In your head, you know the exact words you want to say, but when you try to cue your mouth to create the sounds, it ignores your commands, leaving you frustrated, confused … silent.
Now imagine that you’re also three years old. That’s what it’s like living with Childhood Apraxia of Speech.
For those of you who don’t live in Texas, let me take a moment to explain HEB & the HEB Buddy Buck machine.
HEB is the big grocery chain here. It’s pronounced by saying the actual letters, H–E–B. It is not pronounced Heb, like Jeb, and more importantly, it’s not pronounced Hebe, like the ethnic slur. HEB stands for Howard Edward Butt, (cue giggling children.)
It’s that time of year again! The birds are chirping, the flowers are blooming and the leaves are back on the trees. Ahhhh Spring has sprung! Perhaps my favorite part of spring is welcoming the wide assortment of butterflies that come to visit us in our back yard to snack on one of the Crepe Myrtles or get a drink from the birdbath.
Sadly, from time to time we encounter a butterfly that has been injured. I like to think the injury was a result of some type of West Side Story butterfly street fight but more likely it was just due to the excessive enthusiasm of a two year old with a net and bad aim. There’s not much sadder than the sight of a beautiful butterfly grounded due to a torn wing.
I have to admit, when I started The Dusty Parachute back in August of 2014, I didn’t put much thought into the site name. Unfortunately, the thought I did put into it was based on the idea that it was going to be an anonymous blog about answering the question, “What Color Is Your Parachute?” after 10 years as a stay at home mom.
I have exciting news for you all – After 42 years on this planet, I have finally achieved my goal in life!
I know what you’re saying to yourself. “Wow, I wish I could achieve my goal in life, maybe I should work harder!” Maybe you should. Because then you could be like me, 42 years old without a single care in the world, living the rest of my life free and easy because I’m no longer burdened by my life long goal of finding the perfect sugar cookie recipe.
I have a confession.
I’m in the middle of a “When Harry Met Sally” type love affair.
Technically, I’m more toward the end of the movie, when after denying and rationalizing his feelings for years, Harry is finally ready to lay his heart on the line and profess his love to Sally.