Our friend Hannah warned us that around the town of Cork, Ireland, people became very possessive of their beaches. I thought I misheard her, naturally. “This bitch belongs to no man-” I said, waving my finger defiantly in the air. (“See? This is why you aren’t allowed to have a podcast.” – Rand)
My endless fascination with two people taking photos at the same time continues. In Ireland, as I was snapping photos, Wil was doing the same (albeit more competently, with an eye for composition and light and all those other things that photographers understand and I do not). Here’s my photo, taken on the side of…
If you travel enough, you will inevitably find yourself washing your socks, underwear, and at least two or three t-shirts in a hotel bathroom sink. As any experienced traveler will tell you, this is the easy part. Getting your clothes wet in the confines of a hotel room isn’t a problem. I just realized that…
When I was in the third or fourth grade, we were given an assignment to write a letter to our future selves. Presumably our teacher didn’t have a lot of faith that we’d remain functional members of society for much longer, because she put the delivery date of this missive a scant year or two…
Durham felt familiar somehow. Neither of us had ever been there before, but the streets weren’t foreign to us. When the light of the setting sun hit a row of brick buildings it felt like a memory, like a painting by Hopper I’d seen long ago and forgotten about. Rand made me run to catch the…
Late last year, Rand and I visited Raleigh, North Carolina, and after reading glowing online reviews for it, I spent an afternoon at the North Carolina Museum of History. I was appalled by it. I’ve heard of revisionist historians, of people who claim the Civil War was about something other than slavery, but I figured…
I nearly forgot to tell you about the pilgrimage we made last summer to Stratford-upon-Avon: the home of that great Bard, of the man who wrote the sonnets and plays that shaped my awkward adolescence and escorted me to an awkward adulthood. I will confess: at first I found the little town kitschy. The endless…
Like most of you, I recently read the Elle article about what Amanda Chantal Bacon, a woman who may just be a low-blood-sugar-induced hallucination of Gwyneth Paltrow’s, eats in a given day. It was a lot like the first time I read Shakespeare or heard an interview with Bob Dylan. I knew it was English, but…
The prescription says “post coital.” It actually says that on the bottle. When the doctor told me my instructions for taking the antibiotic, I sincerely did not think that he would have the nerve to relay that information to the pharmacist. I figured he’d use some sort of vague jargon like, “as needed” which is…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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