I’ve learned a funny thing about books. Even when I think I’m done with one, I’m not. This is true, I’ve found, of both the books I’ve read and the book I’ve written. A paragraph will haunt me. I’ll go back and dissect every word and comma, trying to understand the alchemy behind them, if there is…
I have a confession. My husband, Rand, is more fashionable than me. This is contrary to everything that movies and television have taught me, where the female sex is supposed to be stylish, and men can run around looking like they’re in the middle of washing their car. Behold. But that’s not the case with…
Dear … um … Crap. I’ll be honest, I didn’t catch your name as it was shouted over your headset. Tamblynn? Is that even a real name? Or just a dehydration-induced hallucination? (And who I am to judge? Geraldine. My name is Geraldine. Thanks a lot, mom. I hope honoring your sister who died in infancy…
“Dear god,” I told him when I saw the photo. “I look positively predatory.” Rand laughed. “You do,” he agreed. “You look like you are hunting me.”
Rand has to be the grown-up most of the time. This is largely my fault. Last night he was trying to come up with dinner ideas and I suggested raw cookie dough (note: I didn’t suggest it as the main dish. I’m not totally irresponsible. I just suggested it as a side, instead of vegetables).…
There is this idea that keeps coming up in the travel writing community, that quitting your job to travel the world is a profoundly brave thing. You aren’t settling for life in a soulless cubicle. You are grabbing life by the pubic hairs and screaming the guttural war cry that Neanderthals uttered before they went…
Rand knows how much I hate change. He teases me about it, saying I’m the only die-hard liberal who gets angry when she has to alter her routine. “I don’t hate progress,” I explain. I am excited by advancements in feminism and LGBTQ rights and Harriet Tubman on the $20 bill. But I will rage…
Setting: Austin, Texas. The two of us are walking downtown. We are drunk on doughnuts. Everything is making us laugh. ————— Act I. Rand: Well, that’s just ridiculous. They obviously meant ‘Parking.’ Not ‘Cocktails.’
I don’t like horror movies. I think it’s because I don’t find violence or death to be that entertaining. I’m not trying to be holier-than-thou – I just really, really dislike being scared. It’s probably because I’m scared all the time, anyway (it’s a byproduct of my anxiety. Basically, any time I’m alone and anything…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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