The place: a restaurant on the lower west side in Manhattan. The time: a few weeks ago, on a very warm summer night. The characters: Tom Critchlow (admitted smart-ass); me (totally not a smart-ass AT ALL). ————— Tom: You know what your blog needs? Me: What’s that? Tom: More photos of you and Rand kissing.…
Three years ago today, I made you laugh until you cried. – – —
I’ve often said that the greatest trick San Francisco ever pulled was convincing the world it was part of California. The city by the bay isn’t terribly sunny or warm. A chilly wind barrels down its streets, and as you clutch your coat tightly to you IN THE MIDDLE OF AUGUST, you contemplate moving someplace…
Rand and I were meandering around Vancouver a few weeks back (I had dragged him out there on one of the few weekends he was not on the road so that I could attend a travel conference. RECIPROCITY FOR THE WIN!) and we kept seeing things which cracked us up. Now, mind you, I don’t…
Last weekend, Rand went to Brazil and I went to Wichita (his prophecy: “Your experience will be more foreign than mine”). He showed me the only photos he took from his trip (courtesy of his cell phone camera) and it was a quiet reminder that he really DOES need to me to document his travels…
– I married a boy from New Jersey. There is no state more unfairly maligned. Tell folks you are from anywhere else, no matter how abused and run-down, and the response will be better than if you say you are from Jersey. Detroit will get you sympathetic comments about the state of America’s heartland, and praises…
Little known fact about me: in addition to my crippling love of cupcakes and comfortable shoes, I have a soft spot for James Dean. In high school, my room was blanketed with photos of the ill-fated star. I owned his every movie (even Giant, which is AWFUL), read his biography repeatedly, and slept in a…
Rand’s birthday was the Sunday before last, and it passed in our home with nary a cupcake to celebrate. It came, it went, and there was not a crumb of cake, not a spoonful of frosting, no cluster of friends crooning “Happy Birthday” off-key. I consider this an unforgivable oversight on my part. We tried…
– Hi. Remember me? Yeah, it’s been a while. And I’m sincerely sorry. Those of you who’ve followed the blog religiously for last year or so (to whom I say both “thank you” and “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”) know that this is out-of-character. My highly-developed sense of Catholic guilt combined with an over-achiever attitude…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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