When the subject of crochet comes up, and I begin to talk, it’s like a door opening to sunshine and happiness.

Or sometimes, a door to a fascinating volcanic firestorm. (Gee, what does that look like anyway?)

And people always comment, “Wow, I never realized ____, and you’re so passionate about crochet!”

Usually there’s a new spark in their eyes, a little like the one in mine.

And I know I have accomplished my goal: Infection.

Infection can be evil, or it can be good. I propose we have a lot to learn from viruses. I propose that Joy is just as easy to spread as Hate...

“There’s always a Nellie Oleson.” Anyone who grew up reading or watching Little House on the Prairie barks a knowing laugh.

Fact is, there is always that person somewhere in your life. That one person who gets under your skin, who acts as a challenge to you. Whether as a minor yet annoying inconvenience, or as someone whose very existence seems to defy yours. Perhaps that one person you can’t help but think p

Today is warm and beautiful outdoors. I’ve never had a green thumb, yet enticed by the fresh air and clear skies, I head outdoors to work on my backyard.

Mainly, there is much trimming and raking to be done. I hear there are all sorts of trimming rules for the health of your bushes and trees, but I know none of these things. However, I want to host a cookout and clean things up. I haven’t ventured out to maintain anything back there in months.

So I do things the slow way...

“See mom, these are the Hot Wheels I want to keep, because they have moving parts.” The rest can go to the fundraiser.

Moving parts are always more interesting.

Wait…. That’s not right. I’m sitting at a stop light. At an intersection on the edge of town. Nothing but trees and cacti on my right. I turn to my left.

The birth of a child does funny things to a parent.

The instant they are part of your life, you can’t imagine life without them.

It’s like it always was and was always going to be.

Those first years are the time you get to know your child in a special way.

One that they will never remember and will never see the way you do.

As they grow up, gain confidence, mature, and remember this or that about their lives, those are the years and triumphs you will always…

The room is full, a straggling chair or two in the corner.

There are no more blocked-out seats, but every face is masked nonetheless.

“Have you traveled anywhere outside of the country in the last 4 months?”

“Even if things improve, I’ll still be a teacher.”

The room’s chatter is low, respectful. Broken only by an occasional voice from the front.

The voice calls out, “I have three more names on the booaaard….”

The room pauses as everyone turns to look. Three people stand up.

A farmer from