Finally: puzzle season. Candied pecans on the stove, Bing Crosby on the speakers. This is the time of year in which we all share excitement over something. For some, it’s sterile snow falling in sheets. Others, a warm, glistening tree and a tower of packages. Still others, your grandmother’s eggnog recipe. Me? Jigsaw puzzles.
While we have yet to instate a family game night (yesterday, Scout tried to dump of box of playing cards through the heater vents, so we’ve got a ways to go over here), I’ll forever be an advocate for a good old-fashioned match of wits. Growing up, it was always Trivial Pursuit with my grandparents,
I am not the fun friend, the one you call when your book proposal was just accepted and are in dire need of some celebratory dancing and perhaps Paris. No, I am the friend you call when your book proposal was declined, and your heart is in two, three, four parts and you need some