My only sibling died a year ago today, just as summer 2016 premiered. I guess, officially, I was also an only child in the 21 months before her birth, but I’m assuming I enjoyed that. This, not so much. I miss her. No one else walks this world who knows what it was like in… Continue reading My year as an only child
Amazing how one sentence can bring someone back from the dead and slap you up’side the haid. My mother’s been dead for 18 years, and yet when I found an old letter of hers this morning, boom! This letter’s at least 20 years old, maybe more. She’s talking about a much disliked sister-in-law’s back surgery… Continue reading Guilt and lamb
That’s a grammar police swipe at It Was Me All Along, Andie Mitchell’s memoir of coming to terms with her food addiction (clarkson potter, 2015). Mitchell is a (now) beautiful blogger (canyoustayfordinner.com) who, like so many of us, has had her more than whale-size phases. I wanted to like this book for many reasons, including the… Continue reading It was I all along or, even better, I was in here the whole time
So Thanksgiving dinner, I read, can easily amount to 3,000 calories. Yikes, as Leonard’s mother says on “Big Bang Theory” — that’s about TWICE what I’m supposed to eat in a day to lose 1 pound per week. Add to that, we’ll be in the truck for at least 7 hours on Thursday and I… Continue reading Giving thanks on the road
Florida-grapefruit yellow moon dropping to the horizon outside study windows this morning, something I’d miss if I could sleep past 4 a.m. The last of the moonlight makes luminous the mist exhaled by the sleeping pastures, and I wonder, again, how I can leave this extraordinary beauty for a more prosaic site with more people, more life.… Continue reading Full moon setting; rosemary mashed sweet potatoes with caramelized shallots
“None of her actions was in the least inauthentic, but her degree of alienation from goals, actions, simple states of being — the acute, inescapable self-surveillance of the addict — resembles that rarefied ontological space of the depressive, the anxious, the ill, the poet.” (Joshua Cody’s [sic] — A Memoir, W.W. Norton & Co., 2011)… Continue reading Addiction, the sequel (again)
I wonder if any other of my classmates has to buy a new fence charger before our 50th reunion in 2.5 weeks. When I went out to put on fly masks this morning, we had a free range quarterhorse, and it will not do if any of our three amigos range onto N. Meadow Rd.… Continue reading 2 pounds and 2 weeks ’til reunion!