When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

Evergreen Lodge: Not only did it have everything I was looking for, but activities for the kids, a rustic, but comfortable cabin, a solar-heated saltwater pool--and onsite restaurants. This meant less time cooking after a long day, and less frustration of hauling and trying to store food.

Recently, we published a post of M's Butterflies and Morning Walks and we had a...

After Denmark and Paris, the next destination on M's European adventure was Germany.  Here...

No one believes my Mother's Day stories. I wouldn't either.

On Thursday, my community of Santa Clarita suffered a trauma of the Saugus...