When I’m not complaining about things that I have voluntarily brought upon myself, or tormenting my husband, I’m a travel writer. Since my beloved refuses to check luggage, a large portion of my time on the road is spent washing my underwear in the hotel sink and sniffing my shirts to see if they can be worn “just…
“Is that …” Lisa trails off, never taking her eyes off the contents of the elaborate metal shrine in front of us. “A mummified arm,” I reply. “Yeah.” She is wordless for a moment, staring at the left arm of (according to a nearby placard) St. Vincent the Martyr. Then she looks back to me, as though…
Father’s Day is always kind of tough for me. My dad lives in Germany, and has since before I can remember, so we don’t usually spend the holiday together. Normally, I just call him, and we have the sort of awkward exchange that only two people with virtually nothing in common – except for a…
Nearly every week, I engage in the same stupidity. I refer not to my tendency to watch DVR’d episodes of American Idol for hours on end (long after, I should note, the phone lines for voting have closed, making my behavior particularly inexplicable, even by reality TV standards). I stopped doing that in 2013, after my…
“I’m kinda hungry.” “CHERRIES.”
Last week, I put googly eyes on a bunch of Rand’s stuff around the house, in order to teach him a lesson about … I can’t remember. But I’m sure it was important. Anyway, today he found the last eyebomb. “Someone wants to eat my hair. That’s great. It has googly eyes. I’m so happy.”…
As my recent foray into Paleo eating suggests, I’ve tried (and triumphantly failed) to be healthier. A big component of that failure isn’t just that I like eating things made primarily of butter – it has to do with my woeful attempts at exercise. I regularly take classes that, had I known what I was signing up for, I…
When we were last in South Africa, I used the most amazing toilet ever (we saw other stuff, too, like penguins and spring bok and geckos. And yet, this post is about toilets). I also used one of the weirdest toilets ever. It was in the house we rented in Camps Bay, which is not too…
Dear Nestlé Corporation, I am writing to you on behalf of my husband, Rand, even though he has disavowed any knowledge of this letter, and refuses to be held accountable for ‘the shit that I do when I am bored.’ But I am certain that he would agree with everything I am about to say. Rand is…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Paperback Available March 11th
Also available in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook from these booksellers:
