“Do we need a private space?” I asked. Ginnie nodded discreetly as we ducked into the empty room across the hall. Whatever she needed to tell me, it clearly was not easy breezy. “Abigail,” Ginnie whispered, her eyes darting from my hair to the spray bottle peeking from her handbag, “I hope it’s okay if…
We have to be push-backers, Abigail. Truth demands it. That from a recent email from a friend-who-shall-go-unnamed. This post is that: a little pushback. It is not a call to civil disobedience, to wear a mask or to take it off, or even to vote. It is a call to not live by lies—a call…
Kathy is not usually confrontational. And I used to think she was nice. By nice, I mean sweet and agreeable. Maybe a tiny bit superficial. Sunny and seventies and no clouds in the sky. I like your shirt and Have a great weekend. Sugar cookies and sweet tea. That nice. But one conversation with Kathy last week confirms it. Now I…