I’ve always wanted to be part of one of those 23andMe-induced family-secret-unearthing stories, but I was certain that my farm-roots family meant there’d be no surprises. Then came an out-of-the-blue email from a guy named Jay.
The neurologist took a deep breath while I held mine. And then he said it. “I think this is Lou Gehrig’s Disease.”
We measured our height on a door in our basement when I was growing up, but when we later sold the farmhouse, that door—and all the memories it contained—stayed behind. For less than it costs to buy one, you can make your own wall-mounted wooden ruler height chart. Best of all, it can travel with you no matter where you live.
I’m pretty sure there’s some Sasquatch in my DNA (even if 23andMe disagrees), based solely on the amount of hair on my body. But thanks to the wonders of laser hair removal, my life has gotten a lot less hairy (pun intended).
There’s a group of parents who refuse to jump on the smart speaker bandwagon, because the CIA might be listening. After having an Amazon Echo Dot, and Alexa, for three weeks now, I don’t care if the CIA is listening or not. I *love* our Alexa. And this is why.
Up ahead was a depression in the road, filled with water from a recent storm. Inside the cab of the truck, Eric swerved, and just like that, I was airborne, flying out of the back of the truck and into the darkness.