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Becoming a Badass
When I first started blogging in 2006, I learned to make the rounds of other people’s blogs. As we do. First, I read one person’s blog, and then I’d click on the comment of one of the readers of that blog and be taken to his/her blog, and so on and so on and so…
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Resonance
I bet your’re a book reader. That is: like attracts like, and I am a book reader, and you are here. So we are readers, yes? I’ll go even further and guess that, because love of reading is innate in us–or because we learned it as a joyful or comforting habit in childhood–we are well…
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If the Guy Next to Me Had Been British, He Would Have Whispered, “Put Your Baps Away, Love”
Possessing a highly refined gift for Dickin’ Around, I invariably run late. Naturally, as I attempt to ram my way out of the house, idiocy abounds. The other week, when I was trying to get to the gym to do a little cardio and then attend yoga class, I was chasing the clock. In…
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I Wish I Had Enough Money
Raising my voice above the clamor, I called out, “Okay, you can start your ten minutes of freewriting NOW.” Even in my rowdy, chaotic, feral-children-come-to-college afternoon class, that command settled them down. Heads bent over notebooks, and fingers tapped away on keyboards. For the next ten minutes, the usual cacophony calmed down, and they focused on…
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No More Blue
Bringin’ it home with Part III. ———————————————- A few days after the God of the Parking Lot Attendant blessed me and washed my blackened heart clean, I exited the parking ramp again. Delightfully, it was David–not his gristly, plucked-chicken, Vikings-loving, puka-shell sporting compatriot–working the booth. It’s a real crapshoot, the exiting of a parking ramp.…
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My Redeemer
A continuation from the previous post. I believe such a thing is called Part II. ————————————— My stomach hurt all that day. It had absorbed the fallout of a couple people’s interpersonal cowardice, and I felt sad, sad, sad. It’s not for nothing that Byron and I joke about my alternate name being Counselor Deanna…
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Yellow-Bellied Chicken Hearts
When I was sixteen, I made a difficult phone call. Having started ballet and modern dance lessons at age seven, I, as a teenager, was ready to be done. Once high school hit, I got a job at the mall, joined a variety of extracurricular activities, and craved All-Important and Enriching Time with My Friends…
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All Is Not Lost
It’s always easy to moan about “how it used to be” and “what’s been lost,” particularly because that attitude validates nostalgia as An Excellent Filter Through Which to Assess the World. Nostalgia’s whole modus operandi is one of superiority. Nostalgia, that sly vixen, slides into our psyches and whispers, “Aren’t I preferable to what you…
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I Saw a James, a Simon, a Bunch of Andrews, Johns, Philips, Thomases, Matthews, Maybe a Bartholomew but Definitely Not a Labbaeus or a Judas
The Apostle Islands National Park is about an hour-and-a-half from Duluth. Every now and then, we have cause to drive that direction or swing over to the neighboring town of Bayfield. However, the other day, we aimed the car directly towards the park, on purpose. We decided to join the stampede and visit the ice…
