Declaration of Opposite Day; A Mother’s Desperate Attempt to Maintain Her Sanity

I hold this truth to be self-evident, that my children refuse to get along, though they are endowed by their parents with certain skills for communing peacefully, that among these are sharing, treating one another as one wishes to be treated, and — at the very least — ignoring one another when necessary. It is a mother’s right, it is her duty, to provide new Guards for her sanity. Such is now the necessity which contrains her to alter the household environment.

The history of the children of Casa del Leyers is a history of repeated mental injuries to each other and usurpations of each other’s cookies, Legos, and the TV remote, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over the mother. She, therefore, solemnly publishes and declares today Opposite Day, whereby the children of Casa del Leyers must treat each other in the opposite manner to which they are accustomed. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the ability to ground, confiscate personal property, and – if necessary – institute the use of the fly swatter, she pledges that today will be a peaceful day for her, if for no one else.


Where the Angels Breathe

sky 5_edited-2

“The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn’t it be?–it is the same the angels breathe.”

– Mark Twain

Creature Comfort


The washer, the office closet, the laundry basket, and the defunct dishwasher awaiting disposal — all nice places to cubby up, according to Scout.

An Escape to the Sea

Last week my family and I went in search of the kind of therapy that only saltwater can provide.

We found it in the ocean breeze…  ocean gull

a gentle surf…

ocean perfect

on the sandy shore…


in these decadent oysters…


and these divine conch cakes…

Conch cake

and these scrumptious shrimp…


Life is good.

ocean 2

“My soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.” 

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow –

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