Do I fight with my spouse? You bet I do. — I used to freak out, quietly, in my own mind, when Ken and I would disagree over parenting. It was more important to me that we were united than right, so with every minor disagreement, I’d settle for a compromise. He’d “win,” and I’d
Well, Haiti then. I don’t know how to process large moments, grand gestures. Once in Los Angeles, I walked into a roomful of 15ish friends gathered for my surprise birthday party and, after becoming startled and then grateful, I promptly accepted a mimosa and hid in the bathroom to take deep breaths for four, five
Fall is ending. Our last unseasonably warm stretch is behind us, and I’ve traded my straw hat for wool. — The highlight of her evening is Octonauts. She likes it because Dashy (or is it Tweak?) talks like a Country-Western star and Bee has, since, adopted this trait for herself. Where’s mah coat? I need
My friend Anna bakes the most delicious confections. When we lived in Los Angeles, she’d arrive to the cookout or rooftop party with something extravagantly hand-crafted, like a Malaysian Seri Muka or artisan lavender shortbread cookies infused with a sprig of fresh mint from her garden. Once, she tackled an oversized butterscotch creme brulee for
I didn’t anticipate a passport stamp to Haiti. But then again, rarely do I anticipate the greatest gifts. Ken, out of left field. Bee, surprise! Even the site you’re reading this on, this glowing rectangle that’s oddly held just enough space for a decade of myself? Wildly unexpected. And now here’s Haiti. I’m going for
Well, here’s what I think about being unplugged. I love it. I love to be unplugged, to wax philosophically over what our nation’s ultra-connectedness is perhaps doing to our children, to our elders, to the society at large, to the shape of our culture forever and ever, Amen. We talk about it often, at dinner
Mom? What rhymes with air conditioner? What about plankton? Piano? — Hey, how’d you sleep? Want coffee? Did you sign the paperwork? — Does plankton rhyme with clankton? Can I stay in my pajamas today? Can I have ketchup? What’s a home study? — Does your mom need the car seat? Are we forgetting anything?
We used to call her the ‘Dance for me’ baby. At two weeks young, she’d look at you with blank eyes and blink, expressionless. Brow furrowed. Eyes glaring. She, the statue. We, the minions. She willed us to entertain her. She lorded over us daily with that steely face and when friends would come to