Corn Souffle

Thanksgiving is upon us once again. This has always been a weird holiday for me personally. There is no childhood memory bringing me back to some vision of yesteryear. For two decades, I had the privilege of marrying into a tradition. Angie’s family hosted a wonderful gathering down in Novi, and that is what we did. Down there we would have turkey, ham, and watch the game. It was also down there in Novi where I would be humbled mightily by the most unlikely of adversaries; a soufflé.

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An End of Speaking

I love words.  With words we tell stories.  We sing songs.  And they can do so much more than convey information.  They are mysterious in how they go out far beyond the ears of those who hear them.  I love turning a phrase, the long pause searching for the right word, and even the most groan inducing pun.  

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Photo by Vera Davidova on Unsplash


I went to Wal-mart yesterday.  I had a list in my hand from school telling me what the kids needed for the year.  Folder, glue, erasable pens(?).  We hunted around, marking off each item as we found it.  It was going to be an uneventful, boring day of shopping.  But it didn’t go down that way. 

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