Hi! I'm Kelly.

As a writer, I've always been interested in family stories. When I heard of a Satanic cult in my family tree, I thought I'd found the story of a lifetime. Read more.

You only get so many Saturdays.

You only get so many Saturdays.

Tough day. I couldn't convince the boys to go anywhere fun today. Time crawled. The oldest watched "Inside Out" during the baby's nap, which killed two hours. We turned an empty diaper box into a race car. We wrote jokes onto ledger paper and then made a book by adding some staples down one side. 

My stomach ached all day. I couldn't focus. I feel first-trimester pregnant, even though I'm not. (I look a pregnancy test when I went to the health clinic two weeks ago.) After dinner my husband went outside to mow the lawn, and the oldest kept screaming at me to write down more jokes. I screamed back. He cried. Now my heart aches along with my stomach. 

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I need a time out.

I need a time out.

Where do ideas come from?

Where do ideas come from?