“Even tuna noodle casserole looks good on your best china,” says the article. “Light the candles, pour some wine, use the good silver, and fool everyone! Presentation is everything!” It’s yet another article telling me that, with the right accessories, make-up, and attitude, my canned tuna self can pass...
Son #1 comes in bearing gifts on New Year’s Day – a bag of big beautiful bakery muffins. To his credit, it isn’t a snide commentary on maternal muffin failure (see Day 23). I toss that batch out under the birdfeeder before anyone else sees it; I have my pride....
He is wearing a jaunty Irish tweed cap, set carefully and squarely on his head. The hair below it is closely cropped and gray. The ears are rather pronounced – the gift, most probably, of aging cartilage. Both hands are planted firmly on the wheel, at 10:00 and 2:00....
I think she’s dead, now. While that doesn’t make me happy, exactly, I can’t say that it makes me sad. If I hadn’t been raised better, and if I didn’t harbor irrational fears of swift and merciless punishment from above, I would probably exult. Just a little. I don’t...
Maybe it’s dog owners I dislike, rather than dogs themselves. The undisciplined ones. The ones who laugh when Pokey (the size of a horse) sticks his nose in your crotch or leaps up and leaves claw marks on your chest. Childhood trauma haunts me. There were no leash laws...