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Thanksgiving Play Walking up the path toward the auditorium, a light mist of rain is falling, and I’m worried that Danyelle is going to make us go inside. It’s 7:30 in the morning. “I don’t wanna socialize,” I tell her. “It’s too early.” We’d arrived before the teachers opened the gates so that Cartter wouldn’t…
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It’s easy to miss the entrance to the vet’s parking lot even when it’s not dark outside. Somebody is riding my bumper, and there’s a stream of headlights coming at me from the opposite direction as I look for the lefthand turn off Chuck Dawley Blvd. Normally, Sammy would be whining and panting in the…
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Happy Thanksgiving is overrated as holiday greetings go. I’d take bah humbug any day over Happy Thanksgiving. Nobody expects anything in return for bah humbug. Maybe people don’t expect you to reciprocate their Happy Thanksgivings. Or maybe they do. Either way they’re glory hogs, and theirs is a cheap glory. If you really don’t expect…
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Our 8-year-old yellow lab Sammy had her first “senior visit” at the vet the other day. I’ve enjoyed teasing her about it by calling her Senior Dog for the last week. She doesn’t mind. She looks at me with sad girl eyes and thumps her tail against the couch, hoping that I’ll rub the inside…
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The boys’ faces glowed with excitement in the candlelight. The shade in the dining room was drawn, and the overhead lights turned down low. It was Sunday night; Scotty’s first week of kindergarten and Cartter’s seventh birthday were in the books; and we were celebrating. I could see my boys as clearly as ever, their…
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Dear Elite, As I accelerate into the intersection at Shelmore Blvd. amid a throng of cars on Hwy. 17 carrying solitary drivers to work, I see my five-year-old’s face finally turn away and look toward his destination. He’s in the truck with his mother, on the way to kindergarten. I’m driving the van with his…
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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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Dear Elite, Now that the languid summer season is upon us here in the lowcountry, with heat indexes approaching 110 and swim team’s season officially in the books, springtime’s urgent pomp and circumstance seem a distant memory. Back then we were schlepping the kids to and from school daily; contractors were all over the house;…
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The Raging Elitist 