an open marriage is a good marriage


Or something like that. I don’t remember the exact words the rabbi used when pronouncing my father married to his Bronx-born bride, but that was the gist of it. Be willing to be vulnerable. Open. An open heart, open mind, and open door… to strangers. That’s how the blessings get in. Clearly, this rabbi didn’t live in Texas.

Tarantula. There’s a word for you, lady.’Cause we’ve got ’em. Along with skunk, bullfrogs, rattlesnakes, scorpion, and coyotes. I’d sooner have a stranger who smells like a foot walk into our home. Still, in keeping with tradition, we’d like to extend our home to those in Austin without family, to become a part of ours, and share a communal Thanksgiving with us. A pot-luck Thanksgiving, where you bring your favorite side dish, a little bit of your own home. Please let us know via email if you’d like to join our dysfunctional, but loving, family this year.

With love and elastic waistbands,

Stephanie & her 3 Little Beers