You have two choices when you see this sign on the side of the road. You can avert, or pervert, your eyes.

I have four nephews, the oldest of whom is only five years younger than me. They’re more like little brothers than nephews, especially since I spent so many hours babysitting them when they were younger. They’re all good kids, and most of all, they’re funny. Even when they’re not trying to be.

Around 10 years ago, we were headed on a family trip to a lake in southwest Missouri. Driving down scenic highways in eastern Kansas, we pointed out historical markers, interesting buildings and run-down ghost towns. The trip was full of laughs, as usual, but none could compare to what would happen on our way back. As we neared the outskirts of the lake, a …

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They make me ugly-face laugh. And that’s a beautiful thing.

There are these girls I hang out with. No, not the one with the diaper and the one who begs me for just “one more” piece of Halloween candy that’s left in the bucket. The other girls. The grown ones. The ones I’ve grown up with, and am growing mature with. Although our lives are all slight variations of each other’s, we all live in the same town. We go to the same gas station. The same grocery store. The same veterinarian. But we have more than that in common.

Every month or so, we get together for a girls’ night out. We head the big city, all crammed in a crew cab truck. We pamper. Sometimes with pedicures, last night it was with massages. We eat. …

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It seems innocent enough on the outside…

I have to admit I’ve been a little, well, anxious lately. Try as I may to control it on my own, it’s been tough. After all, exposing your heart and soul to the elements can be a little stressful. Throw a three-year-old and one-year-old on top of that, and the other day-to-day tasks that still have to get done (laundry, cooking, cleaning, shopping, laundry, laundry, and more laundry) and it’s a little heavy on my chest.So, it was a relief last night to have a good, hearty laugh. No anxiety medication comes close to what laughter (and a good massage) can cure. Now, it probably wouldn’t have been funny if the age of my sense of humor matched my biological age. You see, I laugh at things an …

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I love this man. (Photo courtesy of CLG Photography.)

Sweat trickled down the middle of my back, and popped up in beads on my brow. The storm door smacked shut behind me as I traveled in and out of the house, arms stuffed with the day’s gathering. Cool. Hot! Cool. Hot! Cool. Hot! I lingered a bit in the air conditioned kitchen before heading out for the next haul. Unloading groceries in a 110 degree heat wave is a tiring chore, but hubs and I were making good time.

As he heaved in two five-gallon water jugs, one in each hand, I marveled at his brute strength. It’s one of our many differences that I appreciate. Some of our other differences, though, have made the already difficult road of marriage and child-rearing a bit …

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