• FREAK IT, But She’s Hot

    Even heathens and pagans know this one: A guy named Paul, a whole long time ago, found a scroll and a quill and, over a leisurely cup of red wine, asserted that “a woman’s hair is her crowning glory.” For completely non-biblical reasons–who is this Paul to me, after all?–I’ve often believed that this assertion

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  • All Shook Up

    My mom graduated from high school in 1953. She graduated from college in 1957. In many ways, she remained distinctly behind the times; for example, when Elvis Presley first appeared on the Ed Sullivan show in 1956 and essentially transformed youth culture in the space of 3 minutes, my mom was blissfully unaware that some

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  • Sucking It Up

    In last month or two, during a phase when my lap is always full, my neck skin is constantly fondled, and “I yuv you a bushel and a peck” is whispered repeatedly into my ear throughout the day, I am exceedingly aware that I have never before–and will never again–be loved as sweetly deeply profoundly

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  • Sandwiched Ellipses

    Some months ago, my much-adored blogpal, Glamourpuss, tagged me with the following meme. Although I entertain some ambivalence about memes, I so much enjoyed reading Puss’s answers that I’m game on this one. To wit: If I were a beginning, I would be….everything in the movie RAISING ARIZONA that comes before the opening credits. Then

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  • Junk in Our Collective Trunk

      “Junk in Our Collective Trunk” Dear Painters of the Renaissance: I’m sorry I was born 450 years too late. I apologize for my absence, for I could have inspired you. In your work, Peter Paul Rubens, I see appreciation of a natural, bountiful female sensuality; in your work, Tiziano Vecelli (aka “Titian”), I see

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  • Dognapped

      Until recently, we had an extremely yappy dog living next door. She didn’t live alone, of course. She had handlers. Interestingly, this family of hers was, in every area outside of pet ownership, an uptight, buttoned-down group of people. Their home and yard were tidy, pristine. Their voices were never raised; indeed, they were

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  • Blast Off

      As we tick down to the autumnal equinox, I am left reflecting on what this most-recent summer has dished up. For one: hecka lotta togetherness. Mostly, I like it, but I’ll be the bold parent here who admits that I live for the hours without kids. Groom? Now he can always be around. His

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  • Tight

      I’m cheap. It’s not that I want to be; rather, it’s that I’ve never had heaps of money, and I do so like stuff. The marriage of these realities means that I live for a bargain. Don’t get me wrong: I inherently have expensive tastes, and I would love to be flush enough to

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  • Happiness Is a Red Negligee

              Two summers ago, we entered a merciful holding pattern… metaphorically. For nobody got on an airplane. And nobody died. Nobody sprang a mutated version of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” evening on us. Instead, we took a quick trip to Lincoln, Nebraska, meeting my sister there for a few days

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