Consider the beet. Does a better opening line exist in fiction? Confidently giving the reader an earnest command: The beet, consider it! For my return to reading after a year-long hiatus, I selected Tom Robbins’ Jitterbug Perfume from my bookshelf. I often said “this is my favorite book” even though I haven’t opened it since … Continue reading Of Perfume and Pan
Introspection
Podcasters got da Power
I downloaded Episode One of Nothing Is Real, a Beatles podcast narrated by two Irish guys with thankfully coherent accents. Because this was their first episode, they faced a blank slate, a white canvas, they held the power, they could delve into literally any Beatles topic they wanted. They talked about the album Help! Stephen and … Continue reading Podcasters got da Power
Hey Man, What’s Cooking?
In 1996, my soon-to-be wife and I moved into an apartment together. It was an obvious step up from the run-down forties-era garden apartments we both previously rented. This place was in a modern high-rise with a newly renovated kitchen—a room full of sparkling appliances. On our first night in the apartment, we decided to … Continue reading Hey Man, What’s Cooking?
A Losing Combination
Under the knife… again, tomorrow, the culmination of a year-long wait. “Let’s see if it improves,” they said, but it never did. “It’s just a mild case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome,” the neurologist dismissed me by turning his back, making this comment already halfway out the door. An affliction of real estate underwriters and insurance … Continue reading A Losing Combination
When decorations get disturbing
Susan walked in our house last night, pissed. “That house around the corner with all the body bags in their Halloween graveyard now has a girl hanging from a tree. Hanging! Like a suicide or a lynching.” “Maybe they're going for a gallows scene?” I tried to lighten the conversation. God, she was pissed. Running … Continue reading When decorations get disturbing
Ember
A muted orange glow emanates from the core. The base, black as the night that envelops it, sits sentry, a stoic guard devouring excess light. No sound escapes save an occasional hiss, an infrequent pop. Insects swirl and dive, attacking the heart and the people surrounding it. Some bite, some buzz, some are simply deranged … Continue reading Ember
Amber Alert
Central Virginia, 1981, I rode shotgun-once-removed. JD sat in the front passenger seat due to his status as the driver’s roommate, I tucked in behind him for our three-hour trip. Scott drove us home for winter break. Scott, or Checks as we called him based on his propensity to bounce them, only stuck around that … Continue reading Amber Alert
Ophelia
Is it irony that the post tropical depression stalled above Gettysburg is named after a literary character who drowned? When the rain started this morning, I folded a blanket and draped it over the armchair in my sunroom. Having a sunroom, does that sound snooty? Is it on par with a billiards room or a … Continue reading Ophelia
Heirloom
To call it a family heirloom might be overreach, but undeniably, its history was cool. Six kids wore the onesie for a month or two over fourteen years at the end of the last millennium. Children grow so fast in those early days, what fit last week is often stretched this week for one final … Continue reading Heirloom
Hero Worship
Where are heroes born? Grandpa, Jesus, Indiana Jones. I missed that step as a kid, I skip that part today—no one I admire, no one to emulate. No one to let me down. A personal deficiency, an omission of character Never installed by my parents, instilled by my teachers. Irreverence fueled by neurodivergent contempt. My … Continue reading Hero Worship
Shavasana
My yoga class ends with Shavasana (shah-VAHS-anna), a Sanskrit word meaning corpse. The pose, the second to last of each class, is simple. I lie flat on my back, legs slightly apart, arms at my sides, palms up, as if I’m about to receive a gift from heaven. As if I’m ready to grab what … Continue reading Shavasana
Driven
Not Me I’m a lousy driver. With this statement, I’m also an anomaly. Eight of ten American men rank themselves better than average behind the wheel. If I volunteer myself as below average, I must really suck. Years ago, I fancied myself skilled. I planned my lane-changes for optimal efficiency, moving twice the speed of … Continue reading Driven
RBF
Resting Bitch Face—I first heard this four or five years ago. My blogger friend Robyn used the term, talking about herself. She didn’t use the RBF acronym; she used the whole phrase. Thank God she did. I think that’s the last time I ever heard anyone say it. Just in time too. Ever since, and … Continue reading RBF
Legs
I have attractive legs. No really, I do. I’ve heard it all my life. Hey, nice legs! In high school, twiggy and immature, maybe I wasn't a loser, I had friends after all, but I needed binoculars to even see the popular crowd. I stayed after school one afternoon to run stairs. That’s not as … Continue reading Legs
Freedom from Boredom
To me, cruising seems to be a love it or hate it kind of vacation. If that’s true, you can ink me into the hate column. This isn’t based on personal experience; I’ve never been on a cruise. And in truth, I know very little about them. When I talk to people who recently returned … Continue reading Freedom from Boredom
Date Night at the Grocery
Susan and I like to grocery shop together. Is that weird? We sit in our family room, hot because our wall of windows faces south. Sun pours in at a steep angle, creating a swath of light, a two-foot-wide space heater where we don’t need one—not in August. Skylights let in three extra splashes of … Continue reading Date Night at the Grocery
Writing to Write
That time God spoke from the clouds. In many of the "Rules for Writing" lists on the web, know your audience is number one. I know my audience. I'm writing this for myself. ~ ~ ~ “Hey, where ya been?” That’s what you’re thinking right now, isn't it? At least in my mind you are. … Continue reading Writing to Write
A River Runs
They say a river runs through it. “Hrumph,” you say, “hardly a river, more like a wash. Sometimes it even runs dry.” We moved into the house at the end of March after a hefty renovation. Walls moved, hardwood laid, bookshelves built-in where a closet once stood. No, I didn’t do the work. My part … Continue reading A River Runs
Would You Like Number Twenty-Three?
Would you like number twenty-three?Leave your yens on the counter, please. --Lyric from Hong Kong Garden, Song by Siouxsie and the Banshees Never mind that the plural of yen is yen. Never mind that yen is the currency of Japan, not China (or Hong Kong for that matter). Never mind that Hong Kong Garden is … Continue reading Would You Like Number Twenty-Three?
Dog Days
I’m not the one who should be writing about weather. Daily, I read about unprecedented heat in Arizona and millennial flooding in Vermont. Let the Arizona and Vermont bloggers write the weather posts, I thought. It’s pleasant in Gettysburg—high eighties, low nineties. Yes, that’s a little hot, but it’s July, it’s supposed to be hot. … Continue reading Dog Days
The Other Stuff 