This week’s big task is packing for a ski trip to Telluride, Colorado, that Mark and I are leaving for on Saturday. By “ski trip” I mean that he will be skiing, but I’m opting out this time, and will instead spend my days curled up in front of the fireplace reading and writing.
Why We Stay Married, Even When We Hit Our Lowest Lows
There was a time - about 15 years ago - when I threw my bags into the trunk of my car, tears streaming as I vowed through gritted teeth to myself that I wouldn’t spend another night with this man I called my husband.
I don’t remember what we were fighting about, I just remember we were about to leave to go to a holiday party and I had just put a casserole dish filled with baked beans I’d made using my mom’s scrumptious recipe into the trunk, carefully sitting it on a layer of towels to keep it from moving around.