I spend a lot of time trying to make sense of things in my world. I’m often looking for explanations when there aren’t any, and inevitably find myself frustrated by the lack of answers. Why does Rand leave his shirt and jeans on the ground next to bed, stretched out, as though someone had been…
Islamophobia has, understandably, been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve been watching as it slowly spreads across America – perhaps it’s always been around, just under the surface, but in recent months, with the election of our new President, it’s come to a rolling boil. He has villified Americans and foreigners alike, accused the…
I am not afraid of heights. This is notable, because I have historically been afraid of: a Boston Terrier, my coat (I woke up from a nap and freaked out because I thought it was a cat), and my own shadow (it caught me off guard. At the age of 36). So having a small…
We found ourselves at the Oklahoma City National Memorial by accident. We were walking back to our hotel on our last day in town, and we passed it, quiet and looming in its spot adjacent to the main road on which we walked. We’d hoped to make a pilgrimage there but had accepted that we…
Prior to my most recent trip to London, the only thing I knew about Tower Bridge was this: In 1967, an American named Robert McCullough bought London Bridge, dismantled it, and had it moved to the states. The rumor is that he had confused the rather drab and plain bridge he’d purchased with the more architecturally…
Have you ever spent gobs of time with someone, to the point where you think you know everything about them, but then something happens and you start to see them differently? Like, after a dozen years together, you learn that they can touch their nose with their tongue (which, you maintain, is information that you really should…
There is a banging noise coming from the courtyard outside, and the sky above London is grey. It all feels familiar, the early morning sounds and sights of a city I’ve come to know. We have friends here, we have favorite restaurants and shops; we’ve even stayed in this strange little hotel before, with its…
There was no sun in Valencia. Only days and days of rain. Everyone repeatedly told us how rare this was, as though we might find solace in that fact, though I couldn’t figure out the logic behind it. “Bad weather is very unusual here. You must have terrible luck.” “Oh … good?”
I’ve never been one to have much restraint when it comes to sweets, especially when I can eat them in the name of “research.” “It burns more calories this way,” I will say to Rand, my mouth full of fried dough. He has learned, over the years, not to challenge this assertion. The Spanish,…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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