Category: The Old Days

Ordinary Rockstar

On Accidental Meetings with Angst Today I was driving in the minivan across the river, when it hit me. I needed to screech. All these letter-perfect songs played themselves out over the speakers all day, telling me that the dull edged blade I was balancing on was tuned just right. I kept opening my mouth…

Weekends are for Lovers

You know that elbow Room? That place where you can go and lean against the wall and feel your chest cave completely against your backbone in utter perfect relief? You know that place? That place, where the tables are always half-full and yet no one ever seems to bother the one chair you love, the…

A Portrait of Modern American Feminism

A Guest Post by Karin Kuczynski-Holmgren It’s a small cottage on the water in Bridgeport, Conn., a peaceful setting despite the overgrown parking lot and chainlink fence that surrounds it. Just beyond the rows of parked Hondas and Priuses, the harbor twinkles with reflected factory lights. This vegetarian restaurant is called Bloodroot, run by a…

The Monochrome Summers

Shopping at Target for school supplies takes us into the arms of  August, summer’s last great hump. I smell the Ticonderoga pencil shavings already and summer’s great keening begins. The season is nowhere over, yet it is aging. Surrounded by the lemon-yellow-forest-green-cornflower-burnt-sienna colors swirling around me in the all-new-all-same-mass Crayola aisle. Even as I buy…

Untangle Me

My desire to untangle runs deep right now. In savasana last night, I imagined myself going “technology free” suddenly. Saying goodbye to the phones and the televisions, the blogs, Twitter and Facebook accounts that hang on me like screeching monkeys. I imagined what an evening would look like– the savanna of night time from washing…

What Happens While Driving…

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…

Singapore Sweethearts

Here’s a brief version of the story of how I met Tim and Peter… I’m thinking about them today. I was working at the Warrington Hotel in London, which isn’t a hotel, but an epic pub in Maida Vale. Now owned by Gordon Ramsay. It was autumn of 2004, and we’d only just arrived in…

Losing Late Nights

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…

Getting the Olivetti 33

I just went ahead, finally, and dished out the $$ on the Olivetti 33, because every writer should own a manual typewriter and this one is so lovely. I did what Mom told me and thought about it for awhile– like two years. Restored to oily perfection by Dan, aka “Mr Typewriter,” from Florrisant, MO,…

Why is “Local” so Weird?

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…

English Things I Miss, Part 2: On Biscuits, and Such

I had pancakes for breakfast yesterday and I took it totally for granted. God, how quickly we forget the hard times. Back in the day, (when I was living on nothing but beer and chicken-flavored potato chips), finding any kind of American baked good was like a treasure hunt. I was reminded of this when…

My Own Personal A-Team

The truth is, we all need someone like Howlin’ Mad Murdock to swing in, now and then, in his robe and fluffy slippers to cause an awesome distraction while we eat the rest of the brownies. Or maybe someone like Face, to charm the pants off of manager in the grocery store. She won’t be…

Kentucky Fried Christmas

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…

On the Meaning of Chex Mix…

My sudden craving for Worcestershire sauce-and-butter- encrusted cereal is a hint about my heritage. Maybe in techno-America, the idea of “heritage” is almost obsolete, except that it isn’t. My iPhone 3G will be nostalgia in a year or two, so hearkening back to the “old days” of baking Chex Mix with my sisters for the…