I like to describe my brother as a triple threat: he’s an actor. And an asshole. And he’s my brother. That counts as three things, right? Oh, and occasionally he takes photos of things. Which you’d think would make him a quadruple threat. But really, most of his pictures just reinforce the fact that he’s…
– How does the old adage go? Photos without people in them are merely postcards? Something like that. It’s a fair criticism. But I’ve always been of the mind that photos with people in them, standing and smiling at the camera as though they were just recovering from a lobotomy, aren’t much better. I mean,…
It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m sure a lot of you are prematurely wincing in anticipation of the sappiness I’m about to post. Those of you who truly plan ahead might have even placed a trash can at your feet, so that when you projectile vomit from the sheer adorability that is me and my husband,…
Just a reminder kids, that vanity will get you nowhere. It’s why Charlize Theron got an Oscar after shaving off her eyebrows.
This post was supposed to go up last night, but it didn’t. Why? Because last night my husband came returned from his most recent overseas jaunt, and the evening was destined to be spent eating chocolate-chip ginger banana bread on the couch while catching up on The Daily Show. Clearly, I am a woman with…
I am starting a new feature on the blog. I hope it will serve me manifold: that it will impart a little more structure into my oh-so-random-blog, and that it will give me an opportunity to share some of the strange and fleeting notions that enter my head. The premise is simple: I take a…
A while ago, I wrote a blurb on a scrap sheet of paper. I finally added it to an old picture I had of my grandfather and my cousin.
There are times when I am reminded of why, despite all my travels, Seattle will always be home to me. I’ll always come back here. I’ll always love it. It may be true that during our rainy season, a woman could go through her entire gestation cycle and produce a lovely, though Vitamin-D-deficient, child. Or…
Over the years, I’ve amassed an impressive collection of self-portraits from our travels (and roped my poor, innocent husband into a few shots as well). I take them with one arm extended as far in front of me as my short-limbed genes will allow, and I click a half-dozen times. With any luck, in at…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
In Hardback, e-book, and audiobook from these booksellers:
