The lock snicked as I bent over to retrieve the broken bag of flour that had fallen through the wet paper bag. A tug against my waist and I knew the day had gone from bad to ludicrous. My skirt, now wedged tightly between the locked car door held me captive. Turning I could see my keys, still dangling from the ignition. Leaving the flour on the parking garage floor, I took off my skirt and donned the broken paper bag. Mrs. Whipson had my spare key so I braved the walk to her apartment. She wasn’t home… Mondays suck.
Join Becca and I this weekend in Hershey, PA for #booksigning
September 4, 2018
Okay, the new website is up… Let me know if there are missing pages
July 29, 2019
Tobi’s Down and Dirty Guide to the coronavirus… or, Why Are We Freaking Out About A Virus?
March 8, 2020
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