• 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

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  • One Hot Day

    Lawsy, it was hot. We’d weathered a memorable ride on a mini-bus (dolmus) to get there, a ride packed full of sweating bodies overlapping each other, a ride reeking of body odor, a ride without moving air to calm the overheated brain. Once we got off the mini-bus, we then had to walk down a

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  • Taking Stock

    As one year ends, and a new one begins, it is tradition to slow down for a moment to take stock. Although I generally chafe at tradition, and although I tend to exhaust myself by taking stock every day of every year, I do like the notion of recording some of my favorite things from

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  • 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 scooped a lot of single

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  • 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 wouldn’t have told her oblivious

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  • 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 it, Mister. I was at

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  • 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 sky gods for the fact

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  • 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 and expanded. Her skin was

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  • 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, mostly I’m afraid of her.

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  • 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 and wondering why everyone seems

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