One of Colin’s and my favorite things to do is a road trip. We are at our most relaxed on the way to somewhere, with him driving, and me organizing whatever podcast or playlist or wrong turn is up next. Our first road trip, en masse however, had me on edge. I had sweet-fond memories…
Category: What’s Called Home
In which I discuss places around this place we call home, in various stages of undress.
On Being Midwestern: Nice
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While I’m traveling around Canada and New England, I’ve put together some thoughts on HOME. Here’s today’s installment, ON BEING MIDWESTERN, Part 1. Nice. In my scan for ideas, I stumbled across this Columbus, Ohio message board, where a fair number of Midwesterners in that area of the country give their thoughts on what happens…
Venice and Other Temporary Places
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The copy of John Berendt’s “The City of Fallen Angels” that Heather gave me is water-logged. It looks as though it made it here by water taxi. The book, which I am halfway through, wanders through this old city, meeting real Venetians and asking them: “How do you feel about Venice?” It’s a series of…
On Being an American Pacifist
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I started writing a long, kinda preachy post and then I just stopped. Here’s how I feel as a pacifist: I am a conflicted human in my American place. I often wonder if I am stupid and ignorant. There is no doubt I am grateful for the freedom of our lives here. And my mind…
Rabbit-Proof Fence
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There is a lot of wasted life, and so much of our time is used beating back the natural cycles. Shouldn’t we just leave the rabbits be? Let them mate and mate in our back yard, eat all of our hardwork, hard-earned? Shouldn’t we look at them and see the best of them? The softness…
Losing Late Nights
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It suddenly occurred to me — when I was in the basement waiting to see if the washer would flood/leak — that I am no longer a Night Writer. I used to stay up and journal, scribble, angst-ify long after the sun had gone and the house had gone quiet. In KC, I’d sit on…
Why is “Local” so Weird?
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My kids reallyreally like bananas and I am reallyreally glad about that. As some of you know, we are greeny-greensters, so we grow our own veggie garden, make compost, and buy organic and local. Well, sometimes. If we started to apply the “locally-grown” condition to our food (250-mile radius), what would be have to give…
The Unfinished Basement is Not Worth Examining
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So I’m just emptying the dishwasher this morning and number one son runs out the the kitchen and says: “Mom! I just saw this guy on TV! He says he can finish your basement!” “Oh yeah?” My mind is spinning. I start to do the math. Local news is on. Commercial jingles ring. TiVo has…
I’m Not Mowing The Lawn…
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… and the reason I’m not is not at all simple. Despite the fact that I drive the heck out of our zippy five-speed manual transmission Mazda, and the fact that I drive our minivan like I need to get the kids to the raceway poddy–NOW! — despite both of THOSE facts, I feel complete…
On Finding a Voice
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I have a tendency to slip into foul language when little people are asleep. It’s the side effect of a past life working in the restaurant business where half the employees never escape a room below 110 degrees and only hear the words: “You screwed my order up again” as the nearest thing to praise.…
Kentucky Fried Christmas
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After a visit to Colin’s work, we were all famished for lunch today. Nothing says special holiday like a big bucket of KFC. We got the family 12 piece meal and just about devoured all of it together. Dining on fast food on Christmas eve always reminds me of my own childhood. Ever so often…
Dreams, canned and stuffed
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“So tell me your dream Lay your head on my pillow Tell me the things that you hide away Your pain Your pleasure Your sorrow Tell me the things that you hide away Your pain your pleasure your sorrow.” –Blue Rodeo If you are looking for the less fortunate, you can find them waiting in…
The Bacon Fat on the Counter
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I did the dishes. But I left the Presto Power Crisp full of bacon fat on the counter. It’s not that I’m not interested in cleaning it– I scrubbed WAY more disgusting pans at The Passage in the London, where burning oatmeal in the bottom of a pot the size of the Queen’s bathtub seemed…
A Dog in the House
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As the result of a good friend transferring overseas indefinitely, we are now the proud–if temporary– parents of a beautiful and wonderful dog named Kiyomi. If you are wondering what “Kiyomi” means, well, I am sure I asked her owner once, but had long-forgotten, so I had to Google it to find out. A Japanese…
Your Government, Your Lemon
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I overheard my brother-in-law refer to our current President as a “c*cksucker” during a recent stay at my parent’s house. This sparked a political dance/conversation on Facebook between myself and an old friend from high school. The curious bit about this conversation is that I haven’t seen this women since high school. I have no…
