Lifts
A large billboard on the main drag in Destin advertises: Brazilian Lifts—starting at $6,900. Hmmmm. Surprising and interesting. As old and wrinkled as my butt is, though, I imagine it would cost at least $6,900 for one cheek, much less my entire butt.
Professional
I’m an accountant, a CPA. I work as the office administrator for a church where most people are young, tattooed artists who wear lots of denim and trendy hats. I have complete freedom in dressing for work and I’ve learned that jeans and hiking boots are much more comfortable than suits and heels. But there was a time when I had to embrace the professional look. Long ago. Back when I worked for the IRS. That’s right. The Internal Revenue Service, my employer of choice after graduating college. I had a passion for tax law, so it was the perfect job for me. I had difficulty being taken seriously, though. I look a bit young for my age and, with my long hair, well, let’s just say that most people thought I was sixteen rather than...
Failure
As a student, I believed I failed any time I didn’t make 100 on a test. Perfectionists are hard on themselves. By the time I got to the CPA exam though, in my twenties, I had seen the error of my ways and was thrilled to simply pass, never mind a perfect score. My definition of failure changed. It no longer meant missing the bull’s eye by a hair; it now meant missing the entire target. I expected that would never happen to me. Health problems caused me to do an intense study of nutrition and alternative medicine, so in my forties, armed with a Doctor of Naturopathy degree, I decided to pursue a profession that I expected to do more for my community than any of my accounting skills. I opened an office, with my name, Karen H. Curran, ND, on the sign,...
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