I catch my breath. And touch my hand to my mouth, remembering suddenly a certain someone from my past. I think all at once, in a surprising rush of reverie, that his eyes were amethyst, that he was smart and sometimes sweet.
Of course, there was the inevitable, social-media-induced jealousy. Who the F*** was that girl standing next to my boyfriend in the background of that picture behind that stack of red solo cups, kind of smiling?
Susan Patton has been given titles ranging from "backwards," to "WASP" to "1950s-era housewife." And while the hoards of progressives -- and my 89-year-old grandmother -- might be jumping at the bit to discourage her advice, I initially agreed with her... in theory.