My junior high years bordered on miserable.  Every day I launched off the school bus, bolted up the driveway, and shed my back brace onto the living room floor.  At that age I was allowed to remove my scoliosis contraption for 4 hours each day, and I always spent my first hour of freedom with Laura Ingalls Wilder.  She was my daily dose of sanity. … Continue reading Little House, Big Memories