-
Postage-Free But Heartfelt
Dear Inhabitants of the Interwebs, You Slimy, Three-Eyed Beasts: At this reading, may you be sipping on something mulled, wearing something fuzzy, and not hating those around you. What’s more: may you have protein in your belly and a carb in your heart. I offer up to you the following holiday greetings with a shrug of my…
-
Although I Felt the Freak in Many Other Ways, There Was This Month in Seventh Grade When We Did Track in P.E. Class, and As It Turned Out, I Was Pretty Good at Standing Broad Jump and the 100-Yard Dash. Whenever I Feel Down, I Remember Out-Jumping and Out-Running All Those Cute Little Things Who Had Boyfriends, and Suddenly I’m Humming Again, Which Indicates That My Happiness Stems from a Place of ‘In-Your-Face, Bitches’
A few weeks ago, my sister sent me a book. I think she’s making up for all those years in childhood when she insisted a “slap fight” was actually a “fun game” as she pinned me down and proved her superiority at fun games. Plus, once, she took my Bass ballet flats and threw them across the…
-
You Should See What I Do With Lincoln Logs
-
I Promise You At Least Five Parenthetical Asides in This Post; Bonus Points If You Count More
There is a fortuitous convergence at the end of the semester: Gasping for air from beneath a heap of research papers, I claw one hand out from under essays about childhood obesity, bacteria-phobia, the death of newspapers, and the upsurge in wind farms, and that hand, calloused and gnarled, flops around blindly (what with…
-
Recipe for a Headache
My life policy of Don’t Get Harried is inviolate. Also, I lie a lot, especially on Mondays, when zipping around and feeling always eight minutes behind is the norm, and my life policy is brutally, repeatedly violated. The policy of Don’t Get Harried is predicated by the fact that doing lots isn’t part of my…
-
Juicy Fruit
Scroogey McSkinTheReindeer here. It’s that time of the year again. Sumpin’ about jolly and holly. Not this grouch’s vibe. Nor is Kill The Turkeys day. In trying to put a finger on why the holidays make me want to carve a cave into the side of Wal-Mart using my bare hands and then climb inside…
-
Husband as Muse
A few weeks ago, I danced over to Jazz’s blog and enjoyed a welcome surprise: her post that day had been hand-written. It startled me how much I liked seeing her handwriting and not just her typing; it reminded me of the individual behind the blog; it gave me a glimpse into her Herishness.…
-
Ridding the Planet of the Scourge That Is Breathing and Upright Turkeys
Sometimes I get all ranty on my students. This happens, in particular, when they kvetch about having to take classes “that don’t have anything to do with what I’m going into”–although, were they at the keyboard, that sentiment would read more like “taht dont have any thing to with WHat im goin in to.” Whenever…
-
Sweet Like Sugar
I haven’t seen the Spiderman, Iron Man, or Batman movies of recent years. I don’t applaud politicians who promise to change our lives. I don’t get all weepy over photos of my grandmother sitting in a big leather chair, doing her tatting. I sometimes think members of the military are in it for the job–you…
-
And People Say Kids Don’t Pick Up After Themselves
With the friendliest of intentions, one of our neighbors handed us a stack of magazines the other week. They were very good magazines, but the realities of life mean it would be three years before we would ever actually read them. Clearly, while some of them could be donated to the rack at the…
