There are some things you should probably know about me. Ready?
I seem to have developed a negative physical reaction to scallops. I know. The non-picky eater finally has a thing, apparently, that I now have to note whenever anyone asks me if I have any special dietary restrictions. Read the rest of this gem…
Be in the moment. Be in the moment. Beinthemoment.
A single droplet of sweat carved a lazy trail from the top of my shoulder to the crook of my elbow, meandering across spring freckles and around fine hairs until it dropped unexpectedly, as though it felt close enough to the ground to just let go, and landed with a splat onto my purple yoga mat. Read the rest of this gem…
I looked at myself in the mirror and assessed. As we do.
Not terrible, I thought, which is much kinder than I usually am to myself. My 32-year-old body has never borne the burden of birth and so, for the most part, while things might not looks as fresh as they did when I was 22 and I’m certainly not as thin, most pieces are still in their proper places. Mostly. Read the rest of this gem…
Your generation’s addicted to attention.
“YES!” I sat up and shouted at the television, scattering balls of used tissues and startling the mutts from their warm puppy slumber. Read the rest of this gem…
The city appeared newer than I’d expected.
Sodden and gray in its refusal to quit winter, I thought most of Boston’s buildings might be brick and colonial — not sleek and concrete. But modern monstrosities dwarf the stunted historicals as towering testaments to the industrial age. And somehow, interestingly, it works. Read the rest of this gem…
Today it has been five years — five years! — since my naive little self made up the term “Life ADD,” spouted off some incoherent crap about trying to do all of the things, and blew your minds by exposing the world’s ugliest light fixture, the elusive fandelier: Read the rest of this gem…
Yesterday I was mad. I didn’t take the time to work out, I was disappointed with how I handled something for my job, and Justin left me way too many dishes for me to clean after dinner. I deserved to do nothing further that night. Read the rest of this gem…
I’ll admit it.
I’ve given E.L. James a very hard time.
Not personally, mind you, because if I knew her personally I’d probably be too busy asking her about her favorite brand of lubricant and just how far she actually took her research Read the rest of this gem…
Dear Domestiphobia Readers,
I am going to write a novel.
There.
It’s out there. No backsies. Read the rest of this gem…
“No one likes you, and you’re going to die here.”
The whisper came at my back, hard and fast, while I was sifting through assorted boxes of chips in the closet-sized storeroom. I whirled around to see Lloyd,* resident oddball and prep room aficionado, silhouetted in the doorway. Read the rest of this gem…