Believe me when I tell you, as unlikely as it sounds, that we did it out of love. In the end, anyway. When it started, it wasn’t quite that. It wasn’t that we didn’t love Tim; we do, we did, we probably always will, for his genuine enthusiasm at everything, for the cadence of his laugh, for…
If you have a blog, and tend to pepper it with photos of yourself making out with your husband- AHEM. As I was saying, if you have a blog, and that blog serves as a thinly veiled excuse to post pictures in which you are mashing faces with your beloved, you may find that people…
There has been a lot of talk about mental illness lately. It comes up in the wake of any major shooting to explain the assailant’s actions. They were crazy, people say. Insane. Unsound. Even when there is clear evidence to the contrary. Even when the people are competent to stand trial. It is an approach…
I was in Oklahoma when the news of the attacks on Paris broke, but my heart and mind have been in the City of Light ever since.
Last month, some dear friends gave Rand and me Fitbits. If you are unfamiliar with the product, it’s sort of like a pedometer, but more judgmental. It keeps track of the steps you’ve taken, your heart rate, calories burned, and whether or not you’ve called your mother recently. Mostly, it exists to make you feel…
A word of warning to my dear, loyal readers who keep coming back here (presumably because of some sort of court-ordered mandate that I don’t really understand): this entire post is about my lady bits. I’m utterly serious. It is not even remotely about travel. If you come back tomorrow, there might be a post…
I was talking to a friend a while back – she’s someone who has always struck me as effortlessly level-headed and competent. A woman who has, in the common parlance of today, her shit together. Who you’d call to bail you out of jail, because there is no way she’d be stupid enough to get caught…
In England, we stayed in a little town called Wallingford, not far from where our friends were getting married. The village had its own castle, which I’m starting to believe is the European equivalent of a Dairy Queen. Every small town has at least one. It’s where the teenagers hang out when they’re bored and…
My alarm clock, I am sad to report, does not respond to screaming. My husband already apparently knew this. I was a little surprised by it. For those of you who were unaware, let me state it for posterity: you cannot stop the passage of time by yelling at clocks, or calendars, or even people. Time will continue…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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