O Mighty Crisis Stories

Flushing the Queer Birds out of the Bushes 15

Flushing the Queer Birds out of the Bushes

She was built like a hobbit hut. Squat. Stout. Solidly constructed. Unlikely to tip over, even when besieged by orcs. Then she bent down to examine something on the path, and as the elastic waistband on her denim shorts stretched to its limits, the outline of her person both shrank...

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Conscious Sedation 18

Conscious Sedation

The other night, as I was sipping the head off my third beer, I started to contemplate the complex relationship I have with my yoga teacher—even though she only knows me as Beefy Lady in the Colorful Headband. Although I have recently discovered subtleties in my relationship with this woman,...

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Summery 21

Summery

I haven’t been taking a break from blogging on purpose. Rather, summer hit, and life sped up to the point that there wasn’t a minute in any day to think about writing or visiting blogs. As summer winds down now, I”m left thinking of the slow, dark, cold months ahead...

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The Boogie Started to Explode 19

The Boogie Started to Explode

When my daughter was two, her developing speech couldn’t quite articulate the words hair clip. Instead, what came out of her mouth was hippie kip. Naturally, charmed by our creation, Byron and I started copying her words, and in no time at all, a hair fastener, in our household lexicon,...

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End O’ Semester and Dontists 19

End O’ Semester and Dontists

The end of the semester always lands with a crash–a head-snapping bump at the very least–and never moreso than when final exam week is topped off with a root canal. As I sat in the endodontist’s office this past Friday morning, nervously fidgeting in the exam room, one of the...

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She Wouldn’t Be The First Student To Complete Her Work While “Altered” 18

She Wouldn’t Be The First Student To Complete Her Work While “Altered”

Stop. Count to ten. Think before replying. That old chestnut is actually fairly hard to apply in a classroom environment–where everyone’s eyes look expectantly at the teacher, where the teacher is supposed to be the font of information, where the energy is alive, where the teacher needs to carry the...

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There Is Gentle 13

There Is Gentle

When I was pregnant the second time, I harbored a fear. I was afraid that the baby inside me would be a boy. I’d spent the previous couple of years hanging out with a sweet, calm, kind little girl. I liked the little girl. When I’d take her places, like to...

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Wazzat? 18

Wazzat?

I recently had an email exchange with a college friend who reads this blog. The exchange started when she messaged to josh me, semi-accusingly, about the point in my previous post where I mentioned road tripping to The Alamo in Texas–yet I had not called or visited her (she lives...

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Narrative 17

Narrative

At my college, we offer regular, semester-length classes (sixteen weeks) along with a different option: the eight-week class. The eight-week option was created to help our students pack as much learnin’ as possible into the shortest reasonable time frame. One would be justified in having reservations about the eight-week classes,...

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Thirteen Years Since the Blue Moon 10

Thirteen Years Since the Blue Moon

You better believe I’m trotting out this old chestnut for its yearly airing. If there are any new readers out there, this’ll be a new one, but for many of you, it will be cause to muse, “Wow, another year’s gone by already?” For me, I like to re-run it...

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