“T-eeee! Come downstairs! We’re going to head out and get some Dairy Queen!” My nine-year-old ears perked, and I yanked my ample, olive-tinted, Mediterranean nose out of my shiny new paperback: Blubber, by Judy Blume. Dairy Queen! Today? Wow, it wasn’t even my birthday! I scrambled downstairs, pulling my thigh-length, neon pink sweatshirt down, and…
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Sabbatical, Memoir Writing Class Prompt #1: West Skyline Drive
I slipped into my neon yellow and white Columbia double-layered jacket, stretched see-through-thin black gloves over my pink-laquered fingernails, and tucked my chemically curly hair under a black fleece hat – knowing the latter would be on just long enough to get out of sight of my mother – and opened the door to meet…
Sabbatical, Day 28: Constellation, CrowdStrike, and Other Crises
“Who goes to Florida in July?” my friend Beavis texted, as mockingly as one can via text.
“It’s just for these events,” I replied. “It’s not like a long vacation or anything.”
Sabbatical, Day 16: The Power of Abject Terror …
The what ifs come fast and furious at night, when my perimenopausal body and brain refuse to shut down.
And You Might Ask Yourself, Well … How Did I Get Here?!
This is the first and only time I’ve blogged, if that’s even a verb anymore, from 28,000 feet. The last two days’ storiedly stormy Eastern Seaboard weather resulted in multiple flight delays from upstate NY, and, looking at the weather around MSP, I’m not certain I’ll be getting home anytime soon. The energy at the…
Uncomfortable Things 