From the time I toddled around in droopy diapers, to the day I drove off to college in my VW Bug, I lived in one small Pennsylvania town. The kids who picked their noses next to me in Mrs. Rowley’s kindergarten class were the same ones who walked across the stage with me at our…
Book Review
My Freudian Half-slip
When I was seven, the scariest place in the world was under my bed. It was a double, so there was plenty of space under there for demon-possessed Muppets with evil grins to hide amongst the dust bunnies. I kept my back turned to the edge of the bed, so as to protect myself from…
The Geobachelor’s Wife
After nearly 20 years of marriage, my husband and I decided to separate. No, he wasn’t having a midlife crisis, although he had become quite heavy-handed with his cologne lately. I wasn’t feeling neglected, although his idea of a fun Saturday night was Dominoes and House Hunters reruns. No one was drinking excessively, although we…
She’s a rich girl
In the darkness of Room 318, my husband’s gravely snore could be heard over the rattle of the air conditioner. Normally unable to sleep with any kind of racket, I was out like the proverbial light, my mouth agape from the utter exhaustion that comes with moving. Middle-age didn’t help either. Our son, draped over…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets