Why don’t I believe in resting?

I remember the one tragic time my dad truly did something for himself. It had been his dream to restore an antique truck, something from the 1930s, when headlights were still set out on top of the front fenders. When I was in high school, we found the body of a 1937 Ford pickup on … Continue reading Why don’t I believe in resting?

When my worst nightmare of public humiliation came true

I’m in the living room of a girlfriend with her, my husband, and a mutual friend who is staying at her place while he’s in town. He has a background in music and South American culture, and he’s tinkering on the piano. My friend suggests he teach me how to salsa. “No thanks,” I say, … Continue reading When my worst nightmare of public humiliation came true