The Fourth of July just passed, and as my husband and I stood watching fireworks with a couple of friends, I got to thinking a bit too heavily about what it means to be an American. No, I wasn’t drunk. Nor had I ingested any sort of chemical that would cause me to wax poetic…
We’ve already established that the double-L in Icelandic actually makes a “t-l-l” sound, so it seems unreasonable that Flickr would make this claim … – Sorry, Flickr. But I actually don’t even know what half of those characters are. So saying I now know how to greet people in Icelandic is far-fetched, to say the…
I can’t take his money … I can’t print my own money … I have to work for money … Why don’t I just lay down and die? — Homer Simpson, The Simpsons – –
I’ve loads to tell you. I have a few more posts about Scotland I need to get out of my system, a couple on San Diego, and at least a half dozen on New Orleans (which might be one of my new favorite cities). Right now the trips are racking up faster than I can…
I’m finally (kind of, sort of) over the Colts’ loss a few weeks ago that I think I can finally talk about the Superbowl. And I promise I’ll make only one catty comment about the Saints. Maybe two. Some of Rand’s colleagues were over from the U.K. and joined us, along with a handful of…
It’s the Tuesday after the Superbowl. It is a day that holds a special place in my heart. Because on the Tuesday after the Superbowl, 2007, this happened: –
The other day we were hanging out with some friends – some American, some not, and we realized that none of us were really sure what countries are included in the phrase “United Kingdom”. Nor did we know what’s a part of “Great Britain.” England, we pretty much figured out (they’re those wussy guys who…
A few months ago, we went to London so Rand could get some work done, and I could roam around the city and do fuck-all. My life is good. Our lovely friend Ben was with us, as he works with Rand, and their London colleagues needed him to reach things on the top shelf. No,…
This past Christmas, I was down in California, on the front lines of the ongoing war that takes place amongst my family members. It’s been happening for years, punctuated by little battles every time enough of us get together. We’re all participants, though many of us don’t know it. We become casualties as a result…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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