TweetWhen a child is born, the parent enters into a decades-long negotiation with the world. The script for this give-and-take reads: Parent, puffing out chest: “Surrounded by a loving village of friends and family, my child will never question that … Continue reading
Tweet‘Twas holiday time. There, in a quiet, domestic scene, I baked molasses cookies, and my husband folded sheets of paper into gift boxes that would hold the treats. The Ipod shuffled, and a new song, low and mellow, poured into the kitchen: “I search myself … Continue reading
TweetFor once and all, I’m surrendering. I don’t hate poetry after all. The issue in my early years seems to have been the wrong poetry applied to the wrong brain. Now that I’m flailing through Older Years, I keep bumping into … Continue reading
TweetWhat with turning seven and all, Paco had a party the other day. Paco and Groom made the invitation. The rock monster on the highest ledge represents Paco. He yells, “It me birthday!” The festivities began with some pinata whacking, … Continue reading
TweetAt 7:47 a.m., there is the skitter of an elf hurtling toward the bed. “I’m coming to give you your cuddles, Mama!” Usually, Paco’s Hug My Mama time lasts for about ten minutes, until I rouse him towards the bathroom … Continue reading
TweetThis week, I’ve been waiting for news. It came this afternoon. Girlfriends (and Furiousball, who is total Honorary Girlfriend): next year I’m going on sabbatical. For the whole year. Those of you who read my last post are, no doubt, able … Continue reading
TweetSometimes I start a blog post, and then it sits as an unpublished draft for months, even years (case in point: the draft post about how I’m not looking forward to the presidential-nominee battle between Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama). This lag is probably … Continue reading
TweetDuring my early years, I shared a room with my sister. According to the dates on the photos, it would appear I was about two when Kirsten and I moved into our shared room. I’m also told we went to … Continue reading
TweetWhen I was in elementary school, sometimes I’d score a rare, coveted invite to Shauna Bergendahl’s house across the street. She was about five years older than I and had perfect blonde feathered hair, the kind of Farrahed coif that shot her to … Continue reading
TweetBalls are dropping, and I don’t mean geezerly Larry King’s. There’s also a sparkly one in Times Square that’s making a slow descent. People are drinking jaw-dropping amounts of alcohol and wearing pointy hats and acting as though hands moving on a clock can … Continue reading