Category: Paco’s birthday

  • The Twelve-Inch Scar

      Eleven years ago, on January 17th, I made one of my students vomit. I hadn’t even assigned “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” either. Rather than yacking up her lunch as a reaction to Coleridge’s opium-induced writings, she barfed out of affection and empathy. See, this student came from a background so sketchy, so traumatic, that…

  • Ode an die Freude

    By the time I finished my first decade of life, I had learned to walk, run, ride a bike; play piano and flute; jeté like a big-boned ballerina possessed; babysit; and play Boggle. Also, I had boobies and was on the cusp of menstruation. By the time I finished my second decade of life, I had held…

  • Wherein This Becomes the Easiest Place for Me To Show Pictures To Family and Friends; For All Other Readers: I Appreciate Your Forebearance

    What 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, which resulted in a tumble of fruit snacks, candy, and Scavenger Hunt clues. When I…