Rand and I had intended to come back from England a few days earlier than we actually did. On the morning we were slated to leave, Rand looked at the weather report in Seattle, decided it was too damn hot, and moved our ticket. These are the luxuries that are afforded to the lucky, the…
Last week, I went for a run to the park near our home. And by “run” I mean jog. And by “jog” I mean walking in sort of bouncy way that, if viewed at a much higher speed, would suggest the act of physical exercise. All while wheezing like an asthmatic Darth Vader. Ahem.
You said you wanted to see the desert. I can’t remember where you got the idea, but once you had it, that was it. It’s happened plenty of times before – you become singularly focused, you get a particular look on your face, and the only thing left to do is follow you.
Last week an old love of mine got engaged. He is from so far back in my past that there is no trace left of the heartache that followed the relationship – all that remains is the hazy memory that I was sad when it was over. The news of his engagement makes me…
After visiting the Petersen house, and indulging in an absurdly expensive lunch, I headed to the National Mall. It was not, as the name more commonly would suggest, an indoor building filled with retail stores dedicated to all things Americana. Nor did it possess that cornerstone of the suburban retail mall: a group of disaffected teenagers…
I should be perfectly honest here: I didn’t intend to go to visit the home where Lincoln died. I had heard that there was a good hole-in-the-wall breakfast place nearby, and that is where I directed my cab driver to take me.
I’ve heard that when Anthony Bourdain first saw Angkor Wat, he stopped taking vacation photos. He realized that he couldn’t capture this place on film, and reasoned that there was no point. So he put his camera away and just enjoyed it. That’s lovely and rather poetic, but let’s be fair: Bourdain has a…
We rounded a corner in our tuk tuk, the road here better kept than most of the others we’d been on. It was paved, not, dirt, to accommodate for the heavier flow of traffic – cars and tour buses and tuk tuks and scooters. The air smelled of diesel, the sky overcast, the air…
I think it was Nicci who found out about the Phnom Tamao Wildlife Rescue Center, and suggested that we go there. I would like to take credit, though. I think that it’s on par with discovering fire, or inventing the wheel, or figuring out that Junior Mints should be stored in the fridge. These are important…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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