As much as I’d like to pretend it didn’t happen and want to be able to write my standard snarky post, I can’t let the events in Orlando go without commentary. Continue reading →
Category / Murder
My Mother, My Killer
Whether it’s the way it really happened or simply the way it’s been remembered, I can’t say for sure. But family history has it that my mother was so enamored and protective of me that she didn’t let anyone — including my father and grandparents — hold me for the first six weeks of my life. So it’s not surprising that at an age when other babies were being potty-trained and learning to walk, I was perfecting my ability to manipulate my mom in order to get anything my devious little heart desired. Continue reading →