We have entered a season of thankfulness that encompasses more than one day of overeating and wrestling with a 25-pound bird, kickoff to a purchasing and partying frenzy that is somehow linked to a message and a Messiah totally unrelated to fat men in red suits. Continue reading
Yes, I know. But our generation is the product of Depression era parents, and in this generation we are working through a Recession era angst. So you use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. Continue reading
I am the product of Depression Era parents, whose combined genetic code of frugality fills every available micron of cellular space, and I could no more exchange a perfectly fine working, yet yawningly prosaic washing machine for the new model than I could feed a roasted rump roast, sliced with gravy, to the dog. Continue reading
