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It is springtime. Here in Las Vegas, that means temperatures in the 96–105-degree range. That is about the only difference. My poor, confused roses bloom in February. I can’t plant a garden; the summer heat will kill anything in minutes. We must put our hand on the sidewalk to determine if it is safe to walk the dog. Spring and summer blend into fall and winter here, with little change except the air conditioning bills. What a difference it was living on

When people ask me about my husband, where we met, how long we have been together, how long we have known each other, etc., I give them a few lines from my comedy routine. “When I met my husband, he was slim, trim, with long curly dark hair past his shoulders. He was a star football player, a straight-A student, and I didn’t stand a chance. The competition was all over him. But I am a patient woman. It took me thirty-two years, but I got him. Of course, h

Mom feared three things: heights, snakes, and drowning. She instilled those fears in me at an early age. Each summer evening, I walked behind Mom on the path to go get the cows from the pasture for milking. Being easily distracted, I would dawdle and mosey. Up ahead, Mom marched along resolutely, chewing her half stick of Double Mint gum and stomping in her yellow flip-flops. “AHH!” A piercing scream would rise from the path just beyond the corner. “Jesu

Sometimes, despite my better self, my parents slip out of my mouth. Fortunately, I recognize it and turn it into sarcasm as soon as possible. “What the hell were you thinking?” turns into “What the hell, we can’t have anything nice? Now you’ve ruined the whole trailer park chic I was aiming for, might as well cancel the company dinner.” I have heard counselors refer to something labeled “tapes”. The criticism that we hear in our head, the voice that chasti