“You’ll need Diamond status for Premium Wi-Fi,” Vincenzo said. The internet has a caste system now. Regular Wi-Fi still existed, of course. It had just been demoted into something slow enough to encourage aspiration. I never know what my status is. That’s what travel has become: continually managing tiers, memberships, and qualifications. It’s not “Where […]
Dignity, Now Available as an Upgrade Read More »
Then came the Ricky Schroder Little Lord Fauntleroy cut. Translation: “I wanted a boy.”
Symmetry, Bangs, and Other False Gods Read More »
Earlier today, I emerged from a Propofol haze, which sounds glamorous—very midlife spa—a clean, medically sanctioned blackout (and the best sleep of your life) requiring you to sign twenty forms confusingly saying that you might die, but also: statistically unlikely, very peaceful, and do you have an advance directive just in case? Are you at
Goin’ Come Make Soon Read More »
A friend gave me Da Jesus Book when I lived in Maui – the entire New Testament translated into Hawaiian Pidgin – and I didn’t know whether to laugh or feel vaguely blasphemous for laughing. “In da beginning wen get notting, God wen make da sky an da earth” is how it starts, and suddenly
Da Jesus Book: When Pidgin Meets Scripture Read More »
She was nine, maybe ten. The kind of girl who smelled faintly Coppertone and pony sweat. A girl who rode horses and believed every story worth living began on a dirt road. The Burt Reynolds Horse Ranch was her Graceland. White Arabians. Rumors of movie sets, Al Capone’s tomatoes, and Sally Field. A chance, maybe,
The Burt Reynolds Horse Ranch Tee Read More »
emotional demerit (n.): 1. a small penalty you give yourself when you do something mildly self-sabotaging but completely human. 2. observations, encounters, and everyday absurdities that are simply too ridiculous not to call out. Thermal Neglect: Heat Transfer, Entropy, and a Deep Respect For a Properly Zipped Bag. Result: Gelato melts, order collapses, and a
About a year ago, I received a gift that would change my life. It was the perfect gift—one of those “never knew I needed it till I had it” kind of gifts: the coffee sleeve. I mean, how had I been functioning without it? The gift-giver had seen the struggle: the double-wrapped paper towel situation
To Be Held (By A Coffee Sleeve) Read More »
In some places, the weather signals fall’s arrival. Where I live, it’s the stores and menus that announce the change of seasons. Personally, I look forward to the smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and all those cozy autumn spices, and I eagerly await the first day when it’s cool enough to pull out the heavy knits.
Basic Has Never Tasted So Good: A PSL Love Story Read More »
What words do you wish you had spoken to someone before it was too late?Now that’s a premise I can get behind. Laura Imai Messina’s The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World asks readers to contemplate exactly that question as we follow Yui, a young woman whose life is shattered by loss. After
The Phone Calls We Choose, or Choose Not, to Make Read More »
Oversized jean jacket,Light in wash,Your sleeves graze my knucklesAnd wrap me in confidence on loan:A denim shield against the mass. I don you in overly air-conditioned spaces,Often while doing errands I abhor.You envelop me in your excessive denimAnd make me think I can conquer the outing.For the moment, I am brave. I throw you in
Ode to the Oversized Jean Jacket Read More »
Around 4:30, as the light was fading outside my living room window, the realization that I hadn’t done my grocery shopping hit me like a ton of bricks. Grocery shopping is easily my most dreaded weekly chore. Everything costs a small fortune, yet is somehow necessary for me to maintain the illusion of a healthy
Now I am too old to complain, to be weird, to curse, to be offended, to be sensitive, to whine, to resent, to be behind on savings. I am not the wise, financially secure, intentional woman I thought I’d be with a bookish brownstone, a smattering of unique friends, and young people seeking my advice.
I Am Not Meryl Streep Read More »
As Zelda pointed out, “Everyone you like is dead.” Truth. I have an obsession with dead guys. I’ve found my niche in the dating world, and I’m not sorry about it. They’re always available, they don’t lie, and they give me exactly the right amount of space (six feet under, to be precise). Vintage Variety
Falling for the Departed: My Obsession with Dead Guys Read More »
