Outside of Austin, about an hour away in Smithville, on a lonely, remote road that leads to an even more lonely and remote plot of land, there is a magical place called Scream Hollow Wicked Halloween Park. Like the fairy land of Celtic lore that reveals itself at twilight, Scream Hollow is only open to visitors during the most magical month of all. October.
Read MoreFor everyone who subscribes to Brave Tutu in the month of October, a private donor will give $1 to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.
Read MoreIn my career with Carnival Cruise Lines, we hosted endless deck parties. I once joked that if I never did the Cupid Shuffle again, I’d be just fine. I was wrong. Very wrong.
Read MoreOh Patience. You are not just a word that belongs with musty hymnals and hard candies. You are fighting to stay relevant. Trying on hi-low dresses. Signing up for Twitter. You show me your Amazon Prime account…
Read MoreAs a kid, I watched “Field of Dreams” and felt the magic. I saw a man plow his Iowa cornfield to make room for the impossible. As a grown-up writer, the film still resonates. I recently had a dream come true: I signed with an incredible literary agent, Natalie Lakosil of Bradford Literary Agency.
Read MoreI am going to tell you something that I haven’t told very many people…
I recently had one of those trusted conversations. The “not many people know this” dialogue is precious. I realized, after we got off the phone, the moment of hearing my dear friend say “I want to tell you something…” prompted so many emotions. I was simultaneously excited, nervous, hopeful and full of love for my friend. In that millisecond I worried, “Oh no, I hope I react the right way.”
Read MoreI didn’t have time to stop or swerve or even react. I just killed two birds. I just killed two birds. I keep thinking about them. I hear them colliding with my car and dropping underneath. The sound of tossing two full apples into an empty trash can; hollow thuds.
Read MoreAll but the shattered glass was a blur. My morning’s promise of journaling and cozy coffee was replaced with a dangerous mess—a sharp awakening. Unavoidable. My elbow dinged the French press as I grabbed my vitamins. No matter how careful, these fragile coffee makers eventually break. Don’t they?
I pedaled backwards and slid on sandals. I remembered my parents in broken glass situations, their diligence to keep us safe. “We don’t want your little feet anywhere near this until it’s cleaned up.” As kids you are vanquished to the next room. Protected. As the only adult, I handled that morning’s mishap and experienced a mixed moment of remembering and realization.
Read MoreMy heart pounded.Sweat puddled on my arms. My legs were Jell-O. No, I wasn’t in a horror movie. Close. Spinning class.
I’ll level with you…
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