By Rhonda Rhea, @RhondaRhea     I’m just not really a tattoo kind of gal. Sorry. But if ever I did get one, I’d want a ballerina skirt. One around each upper arm. I would want them entirely for the satisfaction of going in and asking for “two tutu tattoos.”…

By Rhonda Rhea, @RhondaRhea   Password anxiety. I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. You’re compelled to choose seven characters, un-guessable, throw in some capital letters, add the name of a dead pet, sprinkle in a few lower-case letters, include some numeric representation, and, on the whole, the password should eventually…

By Rhonda Rhea, @RhondaRhea   I’m not sure I ever work as hard as I do when I’m trying to get rid of that extra little quarter-inch of poof from the last corner of a fitted sheet. That last little bitty poof! It’s called a “fitted” sheet, but seriously, how…

By Rhonda Rhea, @RhondaRhea   You know how I can tell we’re approaching the Christmas season? I find myself thumbing through a catalog. A catalog. Of. Meat. Potted meat. Pickled meat. Fried and dried and—maybe even poached meat. That just takes us to about page five. Then there’s meat by…

By Rhonda Rhea, @RhondaRhea   Think chocolate is not the answer? Maybe you’re not asking the right questions. Okay, I do know chocolate is not really the answer to all the world’s problems. But it does sort of make a challenge a bit more palatable. Chocolate-coating our discomforts—couldn’t hurt, right?…

By Rhonda Rhea, @RhondaRhea   I convince myself I’m pretty mature. And then I see somebody run into a door while texting and it all suddenly becomes very clear. Because, let me tell you, I can laugh for a good twenty minutes. Mercilessly. Not just a little, under-the-breath chortle either.…