O Mighty Crisis Stories

Merry Banana-mas to All, and May Your Pants Be Skin-Tight 16

Merry Banana-mas to All, and May Your Pants Be Skin-Tight

“I’ll have a banana split,” said the nondescript man in the Member’s Only jacket, placing his order. A banana split? For high school girls working the counter of Rimrock Mall’s Hipster Doogan ice cream and corn dog emporium, an order for a banana split was cause for excitement. Sure, we...

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Where I’m From 28

Where I’m From

A lesser daughter would have been mortified and fled down the corridor to stuff herself into the nearest locker, slamming the door and refusing to ever come out. A lesser daughter wouldn’t have stood there, hanging close, her face flushing red as she, too, fought back tears. A lesser daughter...

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That’s Right, Billy Joel: Here’s Another Fire You Didn’t Start 25

That’s Right, Billy Joel: Here’s Another Fire You Didn’t Start

Last night, I told my husband, “In case you were doubting my power or questioning my influence–and it’s the wise man who does neither–I have definitive evidence that I’m changing the world.” “Really?” he responded, cagily remaining neutral until he figured out what direction this announcement was headed. “You got...

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While I Still Don’t Look Like A Model, I Am Closing in on Hairy Old Grandma 24

While I Still Don’t Look Like A Model, I Am Closing in on Hairy Old Grandma

A group of girls–some of them my “best friends”–wrote this note and gave it to me in junior high. As much as the words still make my stomach hurt (do we ever lose touch with our 11-year-old selves?), and as much as I fall to my knees and thank the...

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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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