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When I Was Young and Full of Grace
I believe, when my aunt labeled the Wee Niblet “irrepressible,” that she saved me at least twenty-three minutes of racking my brain to find the most apropos adjective for the little nutter. Indeed, without her astute assessment of him, I might have thoughtlessly described the lad as merely “zestful” or “bubbling.” What a mistake that
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Paging Ms. Chandelier…Mr. Crystal Chandelier. Your Prescription Is Ready
There is a host of traditional names slapped onto mewling, unsuspecting babies in the United States when they’re born: William, Emily, Alex, Susan, Mary. And we’ve all seen and heard those more creative names–some of which have cultural or familial connotations–such as Shaniqua or Anders. But then there’s a whole other class of names out
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Bear Feet
In my last post, I jested, in closing, that I was going to go out and take down any bears that might be rummaging through our compost bin. I also reported that I wouldn’t be able to eat any non-locally-grown bears, if it were to turn out that they had actually been transported, under
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Conversatin’ Locally
Two mornings ago, while Girl was at big-school and Niblet at little-school, Groomeo and I took an anniversarial, celabratory pole hike (basically, that means we were hiking but used ski poles, too; the arm workout gives the whole cardio aspect a boost. Personally, I enjoy it because I’m a much better skiier when there’s no
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We Was Cute Once
Two weeks ago, my husband, nearly 37 years old, lost his first grandparent. Seemingly the most hale of his four living grandparents, his grandmother went into decline rather abruptly, with a kidney infection turning into congestive heart failure turning into pain and exhaustion that sapped her will to fight. Her husband, a former bank
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Coyotes; Time As An Abstract
NPR runs a weekly audio essay entitled “This I Believe” in which average folks hold forth on an issue or idea that they hold dear; NPR describes this segment as a forum where people “…from all walks of life share the personal philosophies and core values that guide their daily lives.” Since I walk and
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That Michelangelo: Some Sort of Mutant Turtle, Right?
I have profound deficiencies in my knowledge of art. Sure, I recognize dogs playing poker when I see them, but beyond that, my high-priced liberal arts education is artistically pockmarked. Certainly, I can enjoy the shadows of Rembrandt. I groove on the dribs and drabs of Pollock. I’ve even heard of that DaVinci dude (it
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Epically Myopic
There’s a reason why I’m legally blind and why, when I’m not wearing my glasses, I mistake the coat closet for my husband. Sure, there’s the whole genetics thing. And, okay, maybe I like hugging fleeces and puddle boots. I won’t even delve into the illicit dalliance I’ve been having with a pair of fingerless
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Harvest Recipe
Take one locally-grown 4-year-old bubbie: Mix in a little Mo Willems’ KNUFFLE BUNNY: Shake vigorously. Months later, after ripening and fermentation, when the wee bubbie subsequently suggests making a “gravetomb” (preschooler speak for “tombstone”) to decorate the yard for Halloween, gently fold in the question, “What shall we paint on it? R.I.P?” He will figure
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Jocelyn Buttstrong
By mistake, I went on a 14-mile bike ride the other day. It’s not like I was transferring the sheets from washer to dryer, only to suddenly look down and note with a surprised “How the hell did this happen?” that I’d been spinning along on a bike for more than an hour. That’s
