A few things: June 2019

Since last we were together in this monthly digest kind of way…

This June marked the second, and also next-to-last, trip with my son to the Tennessee junior tennis qualifying tournament in Chattanooga, the place where so many life lessons are learned, all in one three-day span.

(Road trips with my children might be my favorite part of parenting. I am serious.)

When I woke at 6:30 on that Saturday morning (almost a month ago, now), and the boy didn’t need to wake until 11, I parked myself in the lobby of the Doubletree to read and write for a bit in the quiet.

So, I was sitting in the lobby, my ruined knee propped up on a stool, thinking about my almost 18-year-old son and 20 years living in one place (because this June also marked the start of our 21st year living in Memphis – which surprises no one more than yours truly). And, as sometimes happens, a story popped into my head, all at once. And sitting there, all in one sitting, I wrote a series of 21 posts (20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Belonging) about our utterly ordinary marriage, a sort of Father’s Day countdown to the man who has put up with me for more than two decades.

I queued the posts to run over the course of two weeks, then I went upstairs to make sure my boy-man didn’t oversleep and miss his first match. And that was that. Dribbling them out over two weeks and all of the little conversations that happened as a result made for some lovely surprises. Thanks to all who followed along and added a notes here and there.

Also in June:

My blogiversary (7 years – SEVEN!). One of the best parts has been meeting new people through blogging – friends who cook good food for the people they love, friends who open windows and new ways of seeing the world, friends who share humor and wisdom in the adventure we call parenting, and friends who color outside the lines. Cheers.

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A beach trip with my girl and her pals – a plan they hatched that I didn’t think they would actually pull off, but they did, and I’d agreed to be the driver/chef/chaperone, so we went, and we had a ball, and now we’re home.

And in June: the start of lily blooming season.

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Not happening this June? Exercise (by which I mean, specifically, walking – my favorite and much-missed form of exercise, and tennis – my second favorite and also much-missed activity).


Things one can do with a bum knee (torn meniscus):


Could trees be the next gravestones?

When lying to yourself pays off: Why optimists are better with money

The Man Who Told America the Truth about D-Day (if you don’t read any other linked article, read this one)

Better Schools Won’t Fix America

You’re Doing Something Important When You’re Doing Nothing

My BA in French made me the tech CEO I am today

She had Stage 4 Lung Cancer and a Mountain to Climb

She wrote a book about domestic violence, and then it shook her own life

How Stories from Home Changed My Students

(because I found these marvelous vintage Coast Guard Academy glasses at a thrift store in Florida, and they begged to be used)

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3 Forgotten Grand Marnier Classics

Bee’s Knees

Cucumber Collins


Here are three books that are sitting on my shelf, waiting to be cracked open:

The Snakes, by Sadie Jones

Walking on the Ceiling, by Aysegul Savas

The River, by Peter Heller


Summery fresh tomato soup

Cucumber salad with mint

Chopped salad with feta, lime and mint

Massaged kale salad (you must trust me on this one)

And in July, while my children are at camp, I will dig in at work, starting our new fiscal year. When I get home I may read, or write, or cook, or paint, or have a cocktail party.

Or all of the above.


  1. Oh, you go. You with your lovely words, gorgeous stories, quiet reveries and (sadly), bum knee. Thank you for the recommendations; they inspire. But most of all, you inspire. Your voice, your steadfastness, all of you. ❤️

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  2. Belated thanks for the shout-out. I can still remember sitting in my office reading your piece about your mom’s ashes and thinking I gotta meet this woman! Happy July.

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