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Swosh from My Nimbles
As a vehement not-morning-person, sometimes I find myself riding the black donkey before noon, and if any pebbly-beached, tallow-breeched sod knocks on my door at too early an hour, I pay him as Paul paid the Ephesians, which is quite a gapeseed, especially if he’s after peck and perch or my spondulicks. Woe to him…
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Doohickeys Are My Cosmo
The Jerome Seinfeld situation comedy program that used to fly at us through the rectangular altars in our living rooms was smart. Drawing from their life experiences, the creators, Jerome and his friend Lawrence David, realized that the addition of a wacky neighbor can add dimension to any scenario. Without Kramer’s coffee table book…
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The Richest Arrangement of Tints
We’ve been back from Turkey for about two months now, and, to my surprise, I haven’t slammed into any really hard reverse-culture shock moments. Well, wait. Actually. There was this one weekend in early August when, on our way to Wisconsin to meet up with the families of some of my college pals for a…
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“Drop the Damn Fork!”–Jean Nidetch (Weight Watchers Founder)
Can we fast forward here, to the part where I acknowledge that I gained ten pounds in the summer of 2010 as we closed shop on our lives in Minnesota and stuffed every last ceramic vase and fleece vest into the basement? Continue now with the flowing frames of the Weight Gain Narrative, as we…
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Of Tesbih and Testes: Scrubbing Away the Next Layer of Disgruntleds
I’m floating in the most pleasant Limbo right now. (don’t tell the Catholics what a delightful place Neither Here Nor There can be, lest they stop baptizing their newborns and, thusly, put a crimp in economics of the christening gown industry) We’re back in Minnesota, having wrapped up our Turkish adventure (see www.layingfallow.com/turkeyblog for a…
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Of Tesbih and Testes: First Layer of Disgruntleds
So, about those Turkish men. A little background: We first entered the village of Ortahisar on foot in August of 2010, having dripped down a meltingly-soft asphalt road for nearly two kilometers from the main highway. Unable to find a rental in heavily-touristed Göreme, we felt the quiet backwater of Ortahisar held promise. After all,…
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Station Identification
About 12 hours after my previous post, I was ready to write. In fact, I’d deliberated about the topic of Turkish Men long enough that I’d broken my somewhat-cooled feelings into three representational stories, each of which would cover a different facet of my frustration. Right about then, as I started hopscotching around possible names for these three…
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It Felt As Though I Had Skiied with Prince William Because I Saw a Picture of Princess Margaret in a Parka
There was that time in high school when, on the way home from a speech meet half way across the state, the forensics bus pulled in to a diner in Belgrade, Montana, and we orators and extemporaneous speakers suddenly found ourselves gasping with awe at the sight–in real, live Aqua Netted flesh–of the members of rock powerhouse Night…
