O Mighty Crisis Stories

18

Miss Gastrocnemius

I walked down the empty corridor, the modest heels of my pumps clicking satisfyingly on the tiles. After a three-hour night class, I couldn’t wait to get home for dinner and an icy drink, so the clicks echoed quickly, pertly. As I passed one of the the Auto Body classrooms,...

If you care to share, click a square:
22

Clicking Along

I walked down the empty corridor, the heels of my pumps clicking satisfyingly on the tiles. After a three-hour night class, I was eager to get home for dinner and an icy drink, so the clicks echoed quickly, pertly. As I walked, I considered the joy this class was bringing...

If you care to share, click a square:
17

Seizing It

We stood in the kitchen, eating Sunday morning biscuits and working out a quick schedule of the day–as families do–figuring out who would drive downtown to take two boys to the matinee who would drive up the hill to help the fourteen-year-old pick out black dress pants for her band photo...

If you care to share, click a square:
13

Holding a Balloon

I first became aware of Caitlin Moran a couple years ago, when her book How to Be a Woman was creating a splash. In search of a read that was smart but didn’t make my tired brain hurt, I grabbed a copy. Almost immediately, I wished it was 1985 and...

If you care to share, click a square:
12

Hitting the Motherlode at Mamalode

I’ve been writing this blog since 2006 and, before that, pouring words into wild Christmas letters that took so long to read my friends were still working through them come New Year’s. All this fun writing is great. But recently, I decided to start submitting essays to a few publications,...

If you care to share, click a square:
14

Being Able to Climb a Princess’ Hair Is Pretty Ludicrous, Too

Once upon a time, two white, middle-class Midwesterners decided to invite all the townspeople to a feast called Potluck. Listen, not all fairy tales begin with mentally-unstable witches making mischief. Sometimes they begin with swans hatched into the wrong family; hungry wolves; vain emperors; magic shoes; and, yes, middle-class white...

If you care to share, click a square:
17

No Dull Boys, Not Even You, Jack

It’s not for lack of trying. Ever since they were old enough to kick a ball, turn a somersault, and weave a multi-colored tote bag on a floor loom, we’ve signed our kids up for activities. Partly, we did this because it helped to pass some of the long hours...

If you care to share, click a square:
12

Waning

The poor boy inherited his mother’s bad throat. A crummy night’s sleep, an overtaxing day, a demanding week, and there they go: the tonsils. Swelling, scratching, kissing, and aching–tender tonsils manifest the stress. My life has been peppered by throat ailments. They must have become more persistent in adulthood, as having...

If you care to share, click a square:
17

Why You Not Date Me?

I desperately wanted a boyfriend. Starting in about fifth grade and then picking up momentum in sixth, seventh, eighth grades, it was all the rage to “go steady” with someone. No one ever asked me to go steady, save one brave boy (a foot shorter than I) who whispered his...

If you care to share, click a square:
11

Scrapbookin’ the Road Trip: Page the Final

After visiting the Great Sand Dunes, we continued to drive through Colorado, towards Wyoming. Before we could really gun the car and head north, however, we needed to pull over for gas. And Jocelyn might have needed a bag of beef jerky. As is her way. As soon as we...

If you care to share, click a square: