I had a sudden and terrifying revelation last month and I’ve spent the last few weeks trembling with a new fear of ignorance. It’s not that I mind being ignorant. I don’t. I like learning. When I don’t know something I ask, or learn, or read or watch a video about it. What scares me is that I just realized how much I don’t know that I don’t know about! If you’ve ever started a new hobby or job and learned that some little thing you assumed was no big …

Photo Courtesy (c) 2010 by David Foxhoven All rights reserved
I just finished writing an article for Trailer Life Magazine on a rapidly growing group of women called “Sisters On The Fly.” They are a group of women, married, single, widowed, divorced, heterosexual, lesbian and whatever, who buy old camping trailers, fix them up with a cowgirl theme and meet at rallies around the USA to laugh, drink Martinis and/or wine, fly-fish, go antiquing, do crafts or just hang out around the campfire with no men, boys or kids around. Adult …

Part of solving any problem comes down to two things - understanding the difference between responsibility and fault. Fault is about who to blame. Responsibility, in this instance, existential responsibility - our responsibility to ourselves - is what we do for ourselves after we determine who is at fault.
When I was 20 years old I was taking a wrestling class in college and ended up being thrown to the floor and rupturing a disk which compressed my spinal cord and paralyzed me. I literally could not move my legs. The …

I had to laugh. I had to. I have been interviewing people all week for several articles I’m writing on RVing. I spoke with three women today - two older than me, one younger. And they all said pretty much the same thing - “When I learned I could use a bucket with a plastic bag and some cat litter and an old toilet seat for an emergency toilet in my trailer, I was okay with the idea of camping.”
Folks, these are attorneys and government administrators I’m talking to. Women …

He loved her. He loved everything about her. He loved her pink tutu. He loved the tiny little ballet shoes, the auburn hair cut just above her shoulder. And she loved him. I could tell by the way she clung to his leg as they stood in line.
“I don’t feel good daddy.” He put one hand on her head and looked down in concern before stooping to hug her.
“Okay,” he said, smoothing her hair back with one hand and feeling for a temperature. He kissed her forehead. “We won’t be …