The Misfit Christian — Click on the image to see the book at Amazon.com
Live Happily on Less — click image to see at Amazon.com
Grammar Despair — click image to see at Amazon.com
- Get More Done by Slowing Down
- Reject Corporate Culture and Find Something Real Instead
- First and Foremost, Trust Yourself
- Don’t Let the Parasites Define Who You Are
- You Can Be Free, or Obedient, but Not Both
- Finding Truth in a World of Questionable Facts
- Don’t Give Up
- Obedience Is Not a Virtue
- We Learn More from a Dead Leaf Than from Our Smart Phone
- How Do We Know What’s True?
This Woman Writes Facebook
Steve Henderson Fine Art Facebook
Tag Archives: middle age
I dropped in on Eldest Supreme at work just so I could casually mention, “Oh, by the way, I have a washing machine in the back of the car.” Continue reading
To be sure I wasn’t hallucinating, I drove around the block and double checked, as did Tired of Being Youngest at my side.
Confirmed. Somebody else in the least populated county of the state owns my car.
The first day we got her, I left the kids with the Norwegian Artist, dutifully snapped on the leash, and went for the inaugural walk to the park, where somehow, when I blinked for a fraction too long, our newest family member clamped her mouth shut around a dead duck. Continue reading
For some reason, I lack the genetic DNA to sit in a circle and listen to one or two members of a group drone on and on about how they feel about what we have all just endured. Continue reading
I confess: I engage in reckless behavior. Sometimes I salt my food before I taste it. I set the cruise control for two miles over the speed limit. If the headache’s bad enough, I’ll take two aspirin instead of one. … Continue reading
Ah, but Norwegian Artists are a determined race, and the offending item was banished to the far Netherlands of my nightstand, and that only with my avowed promise to use my body as a shield against the Aurora Borealis in numerical form. Continue reading
Given that the Norwegian Artist, however, is one of the sanest people I know, his digital reading habits in conjunction with the wielding of his brushes apparently don’t mess with his brain as much as living in constant contact with me.
For some reason, many self-professed deep thinking intellectuals define reality as unmitigated desolation, despondency, and despair, broken up here and there by the occasional smile, sunny day, or successful birthday party. Continue reading
The Norwegian Artist, however, believes that the Enemy Cold Virus needs to be attacked head on: sweated out, molested, assaulted, crushed, mashed, mangled, forced into unrelenting hard labor, deprived of oxygen, marched to the edge of the precipice and hurtled over the side. Continue reading
At the Norwegian Artist’s receptions and opening nights, I appear in something that exists all its own on the planet — no twin at Wal-Mart or Nordstrom’s — what I’m wearing is as unique, unusual, and imperfect as I am. Continue reading