The thing I remember best about my grandma – the one I met, not the other one – was her vacuum.
Pony was a chicken. I’m about 99% sure she was a Barred Rock, because we had those and Rhode Island Reds and she definitely was not a Rhode Island Red. Continue reading
There are three stages to growing your hair out: oh fuck, what the fuck, and why the fuck. Depending on the length of your hair, you may be lucky enough to start at what the fuck, but most people start at oh fuck. Continue reading
Last year, I planted food for the first time. I mean, beyond my scrubby blueberry bushes and the blackberry I’ve given up and embraced. It seemed like the thing to do, in 2018, to spend the days following former Attorney General Jeff Sessions’ announcement of a “zero tolerance” border policy, the days in which children were officially, rather than surreptitiously, taken from their parents and caged in makeshift shelters, in Walmarts and tent cities, to spend those days buried to my wrists in the soil, giving something, at least, a chance to grow. Continue reading
“Is your mom going to be mad at you?”
I honestly don’t remember if the cop was a man or woman – I think a man – but I remember those words. Continue reading
So, I grew up with parents who wanted me to call them by their first names, I didn’t have a lot of refined sugar until I was like ten, and I still think carob is kind of a treat. WHATEVER. I also developed a healthy love of the outdoors and a healthy respect for how much geese and chickens hate us. But there were a few times my hippie upbringing and the real world collided, hard, and one of those times was in the matter of, well, cookies. Continue reading
So my writing partner (do we say bookwife now?) is obsessive about her metrics. She knows exactly how many views she gets per day. She knows if someone’s been through her whole blog. She knows what posts are performing how. She doesn’t do anything with this information, or change anything about how her posts are structured based on it, but she knows it. Continue reading
I am writing on Election Day 2018. For some reason, it feels important to me to put that date on the post. Or, that date marker: Election Day moves. It is a moving target, but it is always a Tuesday and it is always in November, here, the season of dying things. Continue reading
Halloween is the best holiday.