I don’t grunt. My knuckles don’t drag on the ground. I don’t wear animal skins. I feel no cravings for capybara meat or palm nuts. I’m not suffering from intestinal parasites, at least that I know of. And I don’t have the urge to beat my husband, Francis, over the head with a club…Well, maybe sometimes…
Military Life
Will privatized housing complaints avoid the abyss?
“There’s no knob on the door,” I said to the Balfour Beatty Communities manager when we arrived at our quarters at Naval Station Newport, Rhode Island. It was a hot day in July of 2013 when the BBC manager sheepishly opened the knob-less door of the century-old duplex house we had been assigned…
A Holiday Party Invitation
My pants were tight. My hair was frizzy. My nail polish was chipped. And I was constipated. But it didn’t matter. Locusts could swarm our car, boils could break out on my skin, and the sun could disappear. Nothing would spoil my good mood, because we were going to a Christmas party.
Putting on ‘Big Girl Pants’ in 2022
Pants-less, but still wearing socks and shoes, I descended the basement stairs to stash groceries into our second refrigerator. As I was loading potatoes into the crisper, the doorbell rang…