– Rand and I spent the weekend in Boulder, imposing on friends. I did a whole lot of nothing, which isn’t dissimilar to how I spend my days in Seattle, but being in Colorado, the nothing was done at a higher altitude. This meant that it was slightly more work to do nothing.
Observation: being jet lagged isn’t that radically different from being drunk. Your short term memory suffers, you find yourself in dire need of a sandwich and a shower (and briefly consider how you might tackle both simultaneously), and you litter your home with random articles of clothing. Behold: –
– The other day, I botched a batch of homemade cookies that I had been making for get-together with friends (or maybe my intent was just to sit in front of the TV and eat all of them by myself. Whatever.) This shook me to my core. A large portion of my life is devoted…
I have a confession of sorts. It might be that last week, Rand and I zipped back to Europe, and went to Dublin for the second time in six months, and then to London for the umpteenth time since I started this blog. – I know some of you are reading that and thinking, “Girl, no.…
– Dear Alaska Airlines, Hi! It’s me, Geraldine. You might remember me from such notable trips as AA Flight #476, Seattle to L.A. (the one that was so bumpy, NO SNACKS WERE HANDED OUT, which turned out to be not that big a deal because I spent the evening throwing up, anyway) or last month’s…
(This is no doubt going to piss some people off. Oh, well. Isn’t that what Tuesdays are for?) I’ve adhered to many of these rules for a while now, and I figured they were common knowledge. But the more I travel, the more I realize that they most certainly aren’t. So please forgive the obviousness…
– Growing up, we had a cat. You know what? That statement isn’t quite accurate. We actually had several cats. But there was one cat that sort of stood out from the rest. A spry little calico with markings that I still remember by heart: one eye was rimmed in black, the other in orange,…
I’ve never understood the need for personal space.
– There are days when I feel far older than my 31 years (Wait, am I 31? What year is it …? No, I’m still 31. Dear god. Losing track of my age is not a problem I used to have). When something happens that makes me realize that I have been on the planet…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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