I believed I could achieve total cooperation by simply telling the kids what we wanted them to do via regularly scheduled, lengthy family meetings. Makes perfect sense, right?

A friend once convinced me to try a Zumba class at the base gym. A veteran of the step aerobics craze, I figured, “How hard could it be?”

No matter what is reflected in a mirror, the goal shouldn’t be perpetual beauty, but that we are beautiful to the people in our lives that matter the most.

Finishing the written test was the easy part. Figuring out how to turn it in was nightmarishly awkward.

Military spouses have the gritty “must-do/can-do/will-do” mentality that employers seek -- or they should, at least.

Modern society has become desensitized to swearing over the last few decades, but back in the 1970s and ‘80s when I was a kid, the F-word was quite taboo.

“Gilligan needs a playmate,” I told myself. It was a true statement for our 2-year-old yellow lab, who was particularly demanding of constant attention. However, adopting a kitten was a risky solution with all sorts of potential inconveniences.

During my husband’s 28 years in the Navy, we were forced to create a “home” wherever we found ourselves and carry on with things. That is what military families must do — if we want a good life, we must make it happen no matter where we find ourselves in the world.

With the luck of the Irish on its side, you’d think that St. Patty’s Day would be associated with delectable culinary delights. But corned beef and cabbage?

For my roommate and me, the idea of going on a spring break trip was financially ludicrous, because our part-time jobs only produced enough funds for meager groceries, rent and cheap beers. Still — it was our senior year. Our last chance to really let our big, frizzy, permed hair down and have some fun before we’d be forced to become real-world adults.