– – On a bright September morning, I sat in a small cafe in the Barcelona Airport, staring at the change my husband had been handed back from a barista. We were about to leave Spain for New York. “What is this?” I said, holding up one of his coins. “It’s two Euros,” Rand replied, disinterested.…
– There are mornings when I wake up, and haven’t the foggiest idea of where I am. This is neither as alarming or as glamorous as it sounds. It’s usually in a hotel room somewhere. And more often than not, Rand is with me, so I can’t complain. Travel enough, and I suppose it’s a…
Folks, I have many, many, many, many flaws. If it’s okay with you, I’d rather skip the details and just leave it at that. I’m a decent human being. I’m not a great human being. But Spain made me a slightly worse one. And I’m kind of okay with that. Despite my many flaws (see…
– I don’t understand kids today. I’ve tried. But they are nothing like I was at their age. In my younger years, I did not swoon over effeminate beauties like Justin Bieber (we didn’t even have an equivalent in the mid-90s. We settled for a young Brad Pitt and we liked it). I did not…
– I’ve tried writing this post three times already. I spent the whole morning working on it, then most of the afternoon. At one point, it may have even reduced me to tears. And by “may have” I mean “definitely.” The problem is that I can’t be objective on this topic. I know what you’re…
– I’ve mentioned before that I don’t think photos should be taken in museums. And I stand by that point, even though I’m a really huge hypocrite about the whole thing. I defend my actions by claiming that I have to take photos for the blog. If I couldn’t take pictures, I’d have to pepper…
– “There is never enough time,” Rand is fond of telling me, and I nod in agreement. It might as well be our mantra. I didn’t always feel this way. When I met my husband I was bored and lonely and every day seemed to stretch on forever. It was excruciating. And then he arrived…
The Scene: San Francisco, on a chilly night. The Characters: Geraldine, who is totally awesome. Rand, who is usually awesome but last night left his dirty laundry in a pile on the bedroom floor, which is so not cool. Act I: Geraldine and Rand are walking down a street in San Francisco. It…
Every time I travel to Europe, I am consistently amused by the warning signs I encounter (as far as entertainment value, they rank up there with Italian television, which is no small feat. TV shows in Italy make no sense and often include dance interludes with women in tiny dresses. Chauvinism has never been more hilarious). In…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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