Since my husband Drew’s untimely death…

(which was very inconvenient and against my direct orders, I might add) I have spent an inordinate number of hours pondering what, indeed, is truly sacred. Perhaps it was because he died at Christmas.  I mean, it is difficult to reconcile the death of your soul mate with the simultaneous celebration of the birth of a man whose press release says he is the Son of God.  Then you throw Santa Claus and mistletoe into the mix…and you can start to imagine why a woman would need to do some serious pondering in regard to life, love, death and religion. And what is deemed hallowed…and inviolate.

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In grief, as in dog walking, one must ask:  ”Is putting the poop in a plastic bag & tossing it really the wisest way to deal with it?”

During the April school break, I took my three children on one of our spontaneous, ill-planned, overnight “adventures.” This time, we headed up the coast. Along the way, we enjoyed some snooping around in antique shops, consumed the requisite fried seafood and ice cream treats…and then we did what every American family does to end the day on a happy vacation note.  We zipped into a weathered, old cemetery for a quick bit of fun.

Read more on Dealing with the POOP….