The first thing you notice about Erica is that she’s foxy.
Check out her blog, A Sign of Life. Foxes. Everywhere. The tagline: “seeking forward motion one sign of life at a time.” Amid the foxy theme is fiction and poetry. There’s also soul-baring posts from one who admits, “I think too much and write to little.”
She first happened upon the CD for the Honesty Day lies post, and stuck around.
I’ve told her the story of the fox who greeted me outside a hotel. On a trip to Boone, N.C., I went to the car to get something during the night, and there she stood on a high retaining wall. I could see only her silhouette.
Good for nothin’. Jackass. Idiot. Moron, dumbass, !@#$ for brains. You can belittle his race, his creed, his hockey team, or his hair. Cast him adrift because of his heritage or religion or sexual orientation. Classify his face, his soul, or his manhood.
Few things, though, sting like being called chicken.
Every month, I compile a post called “6 Words.”Hemingway inspired it when he said any story can be told in a six-word sentence. I recently asked bloggers, friends, strangers, and a few strange blogger friends to respond to a prompt.
We parents know the drill: Every day is a circus. Every day is a carnival. Every day is a prison break wrapped in a mutiny dipped in dirty socks, cracker crumbs and lost homework.
Welcome to parenthood.
Everyone’s flavor is a little different, the smells wafting from the kitchen aren’t the same, and although the noise levels are probably pretty consistent across the board – with decibels that make a Concorde jet sound like a nose-hair trimmer – it’s not a life I’d ever, ever change.