When Tired of Being Youngest was six, she shocked a family in our then church by mentioning a scene out of a James Bond movie. Without approaching me directly, the family matriarch made it known — to the rest of … Continue reading
I don’t do reality shows. They’re fake. That being said, Tired of Being Youngest dragged the Norwegian Artist and me to the couch to watch MasterChef, with Gordon Ramsey and his two sidekicks, both of whom look, and act, like … Continue reading
You won’t believe this, but yesterday I spoke with someone who knows someone who knows Viggo Mortensen’s (Aragorn, son of Arathorn, from the Lord of the Rings Trilogy) brother. The Norwegian Artist and I were in Sandpoint, Idaho, having driven 4 hours … Continue reading
You know, you wouldn’t think that Sicilian Buttercup chickens would have much to do with the U.S. economy, healthcare — yours or society’s — or even whether to wash your dishes by hand or use a dishwasher, but they really … Continue reading
Years ago, when the Norwegian Artist and I decided that I would stay home and raise the kids, this was not a savvy, astute, wordly-wise, shrewd, smart decision. Back in the 80s, when women could do anything they wanted, by … Continue reading
I just finished reading one of those inspirational stories that is supposed to energize me but actually makes me want to rest my head on my paper-cluttered desk and weep. Let me summarize: Famous Person agrees to meet fans for … Continue reading
We disagree with one another a lot these days, but I think I’ve found three sentences we can all say, “Yes, that’s true,” to: 1) We are all born. 2) We all die. 3) In between, we operate each of … Continue reading
I have met people with PhD’s who say things like this: “Her and me went to the movies.” “This gift is for she and I.” While this may peg me as a language snob, I think twice before I listen to a … Continue reading
Generally, the produce department of a grocery store is a quiet place. Pinching peaches, while it is a dreadful practice, doesn’t result in sounds from the peaches. I imagine, however, that the people who work in the produce department scream … Continue reading
