dirt don't hurt

I mustache you a question: how do you really feel about facial hair? Whether it’s a bushy hipster beard or a pencil thin mustache, no one can deny that the trends of men with something on their face is as ever changing as the razor blades that grace their bathrooms. My father had a Burt Reynolds style mustache for all of my youth, until he went for the full beard that he still wears today. I have never, in my entire life, seen even a glimpse of my dad’s upper lip. My husband is not such a stagnant man when it comes to decorating his face. There seems to be a fluctuation of follicles throughout the year as he decides to grow a beard during hunting season, keep it long for warmth in winter, and then shave it off in parts come spring. Last week’s goatee was yesterday’s fu Manchu, and is today’s standard ‘stache, with minimal coverage just below his nose. Such options, men have these days. Not only options, but long gone is the time when a clean shaven face was thought of as bei

Nothing quite says summer like that perfect combination of sunshine and lawn mowing. The only thing better is when that warm afternoon arrives on a freakishly warm spring day when the grass is lush and I hear those magical words, “Go ahead, honey, you can mow the lawn.” I love to mow. The headphones snug around my head, my favorite tunes blasting in my ears, and the sound of the mower drowning out the rest of the world.   Besides the hum of the blade spinning and the occasional vocal solo, it’s a perfectly peaceful world behind the handle of that mower, and I enjoy every stripe as I pace up and down the yard. Unless it’s a freakishly warm day in spring. As much as I love nature and backyard critters, I have a strict leg rule that I adhere to, no matter what.   In the past week I have rescued baby bunnies and turtles as they partake in their vernal activities, but I draw the line at snakes. Two legs, good.   Four legs, good.   Six or even eight legs, good.   No legs? No way.

Historically speaking, spring cleaning was a necessity. Before the convenience of the furnace and the thermostat, winter months were spent with the houses closed up and parents constantly yelling at their children to keep the doors closed tight. The wood burning stove, oil lamps, and candles were all they had to keep them from being peoplesicles and so even the neatest of neatnicks had to turn their backs on the soot and wax buildup on every surface of the house. When the sun finally broke out and the weather was warm enough to warrant opening the windows and doors, they did just that. Furniture was dragged outside and scrubbed down, removing the layers of winter’s wrath that had built up on every surface. Nowadays we don’t quite have that same problem to deal with because our lives have evolved into cleaner heating and lighting systems.   Also, our furniture has gotten considerably larger and heavier and I think that if I pulled my couch and kitchen table into the front yard to

“Karrie, this gift will completely change the way you parent,” my friend told me. “Trust me,” she said. “Now give me back your Christmas present.” As it was, she gifted me a very sparkly bracelet that she demanded I return to her the second I opened it. Not being a sparkly girl, I assured her I loved it and would wear it, but she was right. It clashed with my hiking boots and the dirt on my jeans. She was right, but I didn’t give it back until she absolutely insisted because my new and amazing replacement gift was being shipped. “I can’t wait to give it to you!” she said. “It will change your whole life.” I had no idea what she would be giving me, but finally one day I got the call that it was in and I needed to pick it up immediately…and bring the bracelet. Standing in her kitchen, the excitement was so high that she didn’t even bother to wrap it. Instead, she handed me a large box and toothy grin from ear to ear. I must have looked confused, and admittedly I was. “It’s a

This is really less of an personal opinion column and more of a public announcement because I don’t want the local world as I know it to think that I am encouraging poor use of outdoor primitive restroom facilities. I am thrilled to announce that I was recently awarded the Healthy Habits Champion of Orrville for the year, an honor that means important people in the community noticed that I never sit down, like to sweat, and inspire others to do the same.   Truthfully, I had no idea what an award this was, and even weeks later am still flattered and humbled and afraid to eat a cheeseburger in public. Along with all of that, I’m still smiling at what has to be my favorite typo of all time.   I’m not sure who forgot the letter, but I thank that person whole-heartedly for this wonderful story that I will tell for years. A full-page write-up in the evening’s program, the top included a photo and the bottom of the page had a bold print of what I like to call my Soapy Manifesto, and