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
Memoir
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
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
Sugar
After our first two months of dating, Susan and I drove to Erie to meet her family. Her brother was home from college for winter break, and her sister came in for the weekend. The drive was rough. Susan and I spent three and a half hours creeping out of Washington DC in a heavy … Continue reading Sugar
Alone in a Crowd
I encountered someone with Tourette Syndrome last week—I think. Their tics, facial twitches, were subtle. I stared too long and probably got caught. Still unsure, I stared some more. Once I decided I had it right, I wanted to walk over and say “Hey, me too! Tell me your story.” Susan said “Don’t, it’s none … Continue reading Alone in a Crowd
Numb
A forty-year memory is a dicey thing. You remember the stories you’ve told yourself rather than the actual events. Things get embellished, things get blocked depending on your needs. In my case, I think, blocked. I've banished memories, painful and embarrassing. Alcohol adds an extra curtain, a sheer one, not quite opaque. Another layer to … Continue reading Numb
Daydream
The helicopter blades build speed. The gaping side door, slid open like a minivan's, offers a glimpse of the working space inside. When Eli finishes his EMT training, he could join an air ambulance crew. The paramedics load gear, or possibly a cooler chilling a liver for transplant in York. Transplants don’t happen here. We’re … Continue reading Daydream
Chad
My apologies to anyone named Chad. I don't write much about my relationships prior to meeting Susan. Possibly I subconsciously think these stories aren't interesting, but more likely it's a defense mechanism. If I don't write about past girlfriends, they won't write about me. Although Stacey, who I dated unseriously for only eight months, has … Continue reading Chad
The Meaning of a Shriek
Our house was seventies suburban, solid hardwood floors but with drywall so thin I once punched a dent in it during an uninspired attempt to show my dad a bit of emotion. Each morning my father awoke early for work. He started every day with a shower. Everyone else had an extra hour to sleep, … Continue reading The Meaning of a Shriek
Ask Amy
Do you read advice columns? I do every day. The Washington Post runs a daily column by Carolyn Hax that I read while eating breakfast. As I crunch away on my Special K Chocolaty Delight cereal, the game I play is to compare my off-the-cuff response with Carolyn’s. Mine: a knee-jerk reaction to a seemingly … Continue reading Ask Amy
I don’t love yoga
I love to run. My feet gently tread the roadway or the trail. My relaxed gait allows me to absorb the scenery, focus on breath, and wander my brain. Running, every time, instills a sense of peace. I love to ride my mountain bike, primarily on the road, too many crashes in the woods last … Continue reading I don’t love yoga
End Days
I stayed up late in those days, when our kids were young. Sophie in grade school, Eli still in preschool. We put our kids to bed by seven or eight. Susan followed around nine. I stayed up until midnight or later, reading or watching a movie. Dystopia was my jam. A steady stream of low-budget … Continue reading End Days
Potpourri
I used to call posts like this one my ‘cliff hanger’ series. A nod to my propensity to write about a life event, usually an essay steeped in concern over a probable outcome or inevitability, leaving the reader on a proverbial cliff. And then I never mention it again. Weeks later someone might ask about … Continue reading Potpourri
Grave Thoughts
“I dunno, maybe scatter my ashes up in Michaux.” That’s Michaux State Forest. When I think of the most peaceful place in my life, Michaux’s got to be it. Once, the beach topped my list, but now I believe peace is synonymous with solitude, and there’s just too many people on the beach. Plus, I … Continue reading Grave Thoughts
After Surgery
“How about pain? What should I expect while I’m recovering?” I asked the wrong question. What I should have asked is “Will it flipping work?” The other day, Susan drove me to the Lancaster Surgery Center, an hour-and-twenty-minutes away. A well-respected ophthalmological surgeon cut and shortened the muscles that control my eyeballs. This is strabismus … Continue reading After Surgery
The Other Stuff 