Break out the hula skirts, shake off the leis and get ready for some of those island vibes.
Every day my inbox fills with emails from public relations firms, angling for a plug for an author’s book or a new study on children. I delete most of them as quickly as they appear, but I nearly always read the ones on youth and mental health.
Around Franklin’s courthouse square, visitors find themselves face to face with a hedgehog sailing in a teapot, a grizzled old sea turtle sailor and a beagle depicted as a flying ace.
I hadn’t done either for quite a number of years — but once I got in the groove it felt instinctual.
The big, bold, red letters stood out against the white wall, proclaiming: “Not Yet.”
I asked a couple of my favorite Johnson County mothers two simple questions: What is some of the best advice you ever received, and what legacy do you hope to leave your children or what legacy from your own mother are you trying to pass down?”
The trip on an African safari was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see some of the world’s most majestic animals up close.
It was C day in kindergarten recently. C being for career, kids came dressed as the career they wanted to have when they grew up.
The spacious dirt patch, taking up a significant chunk of the southside Indianapolis backyard, has been weeded, planted, tended to and cared for since the 1970s.
Last weekend one of the hardest working young men in Johnson County came over to lend his Auntie a hand on the ranch. I forgot how fun working can be when we both headed outside after taking a water break and my nephew yelled out, “Beat you!” as he ran downstairs out one door as I raced out another and down the steps to our meeting area.