I Need to Talk to You About My Car

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All right, here’s the deal: I drive an Audi TT convertible.

Given that I’m sort of a loudmouth about poverty and privilege and materialism and minimalism, that may seem a little hypocritical. So before you go all TMZ on me and hire someone with a drone to scope out my (non-existent) multi-million-dollar ranch, I want you to know something about my mid-life-crisis-mobile: Jack talked me into it.

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Turn, Turn, Turn

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It’s August 1, 2016. Otherwise known as the first day of the month in which I become an Empty Nester.

A couple of weeks ago, an older couple came into the shop where I volunteer. (They were actually about my age, but whatever, okay? Just whatever.) As I was ringing up their cranberry orange cinnamon rolls, we began small-talking about kids, and when I mentioned that my youngest is heading off to college in the fall, they were all, “You’re going to be an empty nester! You’re going to looooooooove it.”

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Area of Refuge

Area of Refuge

Hi. It’s Kelley. It’s been more than two months since my last confession post.

The last few weeks, I’ve been wholly self-absorbed. My youngest squirrel graduated from high school. We sold one house and bought another (much smaller) one. We discovered none of our furniture would fit in the new place, so we spent hours shopping for a bunch of new stuff (which is not nearly as fun as it sounds) (first-world problems).

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Queer

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estimated read time: 3 minutes

I brag about my kids on Facebook.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve posted many, many times about my high school senior, Bekah. Yesterday, in my ongoing attempt to dispel my kids’ assertion that I have a favorite child, I posted about my college sophomore, Emily. I mentioned how smart she is. I mentioned how much she’s learning and, consequently, teaching me. I mentioned that she’s a queer woman.

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Mouse

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estimated read time: 3 minutes

Saturday 

I’m getting in my car to take it to Firestone for an oil change. Jack’s planning to follow me so I have a ride home.

Me (as I walk past my car): Hey, Jack? Any chance there could be a mouse in my car?

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South

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estimated reading time: 3 minutes

She was sitting on the shoulder of an I-70 west on-ramp, holding a sign that read, “SOUTH.” She was wearing plastic sunglasses and a hoodie, and to her left was a collection of 11 or 12 suitcases and duffle bags. As Launa and I passed by her, we talked for a moment about going back to let the woman know she was sitting in the wrong spot to go south, and we marveled about all of her bags, and we wondered who might’ve dropped her there and why.

An hour later, Launa texted me: “I can’t stop thinking about that woman on the side of the road.”

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