Category: Connecticut

WSHU – A “Very Special Fundraiser”

Interrupting my A.M. snoozing time/Morning Edition listening hour this morning was Kate Remington of WSHU’s classical music morning telling me that she’d gotten to work early this morning for “a very special fundraiser.” Memorial Day weekend marked our one year anniversary back in the U.S., our return to National Public Radio. I love NPR. I…

Where the White Squirrels Are

I like to be tormented. Anyone who knows me can tell you that. Squirrels are my latest rant. We are infested with them in our yard! Apparently that fat squirrel wasn’t just enjoying the pickings of our compost pile… she was out swinging the cat around a couple months ago and now we have 10…

Why Do Paper Cuts Hurt So Much?

Waking up to this blanket of snow is as unfamiliar as if I had stepped into a movie scene for White Christmas. This is the winter I imagined. This is what I expected from Connecticut. But we’ve had lovely, undefined days, mostly. The kind that almost ache in their beauty: winter sunshine stretching out as…

High Crimes: The Fate of Mount Everest in an Age of Greed

I met a photographer for the Hartford Courant, Michael Kodas, at Green Drinks the other night and it turns out he is also the author of this book. High Crimes. I’ve always been skeptical about mountain climbers, especially those who climb places that are truly death-defying. I think this might have something to do with…

Joyce Carol Oates 1, Professor Buttercup 0

At the Quick Center in Fairfield yesterday (where I was invited generously by my new buddy Carol), a simple author event became a righteous example of what happens when you are a man-professor of a certain ilk, with certain ideas about the world, and you set your puffed-rice expectations against a heady, hidden genius. I…

The Uphill Battle

Three hours of my time, this weekend, was spent doing this (see photo, right). If you had a look at my yard right now, of course, you’d have absolutely zero inkling that any form of rake had ever touch it. As an estimate, we have 427,783 trees in our yard. Now, this might be an…

The 4x4s that Ate Connecticut

… Or, Why We Can’t Find Our Car in our “Green” State Connecticut is a “blue” state which means that it generally votes democrat. It’s full of “liberals” running around shopping at Trader Joes and farmer’s markets, buying organic and bringing that GREEN hue to every statement they make. Hence the theme for today’s eco-rant, brought…

Message from the Coffeehouse

Being friends with other writers is always an elaborate game of Telephone: I’ve got Dixie Cups attached to email and blog strings all over the world. Here’s one whisper from Jenn, today, a new writing friend in the Small State. She sends regards from Stephen King, a fellow Stratfordian (he grew up here anyway) from…

The Return of the Karmic Lawn Mower

 About five years ago, Silvia and Alex Torres gave me their lawn mower because they didn’t need it in their move back to Tampico. It was a good thing, too, because the lawn mower I had was stolen out of my garage that I never kept locked. It was a good thing too, because it…

Love me, Love my Generalization

I am not nice. It’s true. I quite often say not nice things (albeit TRUE things) for the sake of a laugh. Why? Because people are a pain. Not individually, naturally. One-on-one, I quite like everyone. It’s just all these heaving crowds of generalizations I can’t stand! Get them out of here! EAST COAST GIRLS…

Pooping Dogs, Booming Thunder and Other Traffic Hazards

It stands to reasons that a state within smelling distance from NYC, with only two major, parallel, “North-South” roads, 3.5 million residents and acre-sized residential lots, there will be some traffic. Now, I am not opposed to spending some time in my car. In fact, I adore being alone in my car, despite my green…

Having a Fit in America

Having landed safely and been released through Homeland Security, it all begs the first burning question: What is the first thing you buy in the Land of Capitalism after living in Europe for three years? That’s right. A car. Tainted by the foolish, small-car-ways of European car makers (they invented something called a “SmartCar” for…

Off Season

In the off season, all things gay and wild and full of choleric swirl give way to a hangdog mood. No pink flying discs or overturned sandcastle buckets. In the off season, there are silences in unexpected pockets. Silences filling the wide open days, broken only by a gull cry, a car door, the once…