The Sunday nights of my childhood, at least four years of it, were spent sitting hard against the footboard of my parents’ bed watching “Upstairs, Downstairs” on Masterpiece Theater. For a child who spent summers in England, read Burnett, Enright and Nesbit, and… Read full post »

 I have talked the talk about letting children be who they are. I have spoken articulately about it, advising other parents with my face screwed into a knot of sincerity and compassion. I have written about it. “We do not own them,” I have preached, “give them roo… Read full post »

Last Thursday, I went to the Palace of Auburn Hills. Lest you should imagine a summer home for Henry VII, with crenelated turrets and a moat, the “Palace” is a gigantic indoor arena on the outskirts of Detroit. It is the home court of the Pistons, but Thursday night it… Read full post »

Two years ago, I wrote a post about what I’d learned in thirteen years of marriage. Today marks our fifteenth anniversary. Although I woke up with my hideous bite splint in my mouth, I was pleased to find that I was still married, and that my husband still loves me and thinks I’… Read full post »

It began with a familiar sensation; I couldn’t align my upper and lower jaw to close my mouth tight. My teeth didn’t seem to line up right, and I couldn’t force them into the customary alignment. I will tell you this: when your teeth don’t line up right in the safe… Read full post »

It is, perhaps, telling that my two favorite holidays are a) non-religious and b) associated with the acquisition of large amounts of candy. I love the autumnal, supernatural-tinged crispness of Halloween, and I adore Valentine’s Day’s pink, and red, and sparkles, and… Read full post »

I am a control freak of the highest order. Since birth, I have vibrated to some internal frequency that requires that questions are answered, clutter is removed, and lists are prepared against any wild card fancies of the universe. I don’t require that things go my way, necessarily - there is… Read full post »

I have, of late, been living in the Land of Etsy. I buy things that strike my fancy, usually small things, sometimes odd things. I bought most of my Christmas gifts there, and the vast majority of my own wish list came from my Etsy “favorites.” As I write, I am… Read full post »

It is all well and good to apply reason to business plans or a mode of education or a voyage to Italy. One must live in the world after all. But reason, when applied to the universe, to the wonders of nature, to the things hidden from our poor eyes that… Read full post »

“By strict definition, vintage fashion is anything more than 50 years old.”

-Heather Williams, “Vintage: the upscaling of hand-me-downs, The Los Angeles Times

It all started because I was publishing pieces on a writing site that awarded cash prizes for the best articles… Read full post »

It’s funny where research can take you. In middle school I became fascinated by Leonardo da Vinci, and for more than a year I read everything I could find about his life, his theories, his inventions and his art. I knew about the melting paint of “The Last… Read full post »

My father famously remarks every year that “Christmas is at our throats again.” He is not, categorically, a Little Ray of Sunshine, and for my whole life I have rolled my eyes when he says this, appeased him with fruitcake, and gone on about the business of making holiday magic.

This… Read full post »

Truth be told, I’m not all that social. It’s odd, since my actual job title is “Hospitality Coordinator,” a job for which I am completely without portfolio – my background in literature and law suggests something rather more Jarndyce and Jarndyce th… Read full post »

 In case you have been waiting in a tormented agony of suspense, here’s the good news: I made it through November’s NaNoWriMo juggernaut with more than 50,000 words of a novel. Unfortunately, they aren’t the right words. I hit November 30^th with a story that had r/… Read full post »

Right around the time I was married, my mother was taken to the hospital because she felt terribly, strangely ill. My mother, who was always the one who didn’t get the cold that was going around, who rarely took so much as an aspirin, was suddenly the pale, waxy thing in… Read full post »

This is not my first time at the rodeo. On my computer and in manuscript form is the spent jet trash of attempted novels: The Restaurant Book, The Family in Maine Book, The Girl Who Works at the Convenience Store and Falls in Love with the Suave Rug Cleaner Book. Their… Read full post »

The first time we went to St. George Island, Sam was only two. Rob couldn't get away, and so I flew from Lansing to Tallahassee with the diaper bag, the purse, the umbrella stroller, and the Terrible Two-year-old who threw his sippy cup at the besuited businessman who had… Read full post »

 “So technically, Jesus was a zombie?” I said to my husband as we sat in our customary TV-watching spots. Wisely, he ignored me. He was also largely ignoring the program about zombies that I was trying desperately not to hate. It was really silly, and, despite b… Read full post »

Recently, a co-worker lent me a book. I was having a hard day, and although I was not, strictly speaking, next on the list of borrowers, she thought it would cheer me up. She told me that it had made her think of me, because it was about “someone who started… Read full post »

“A man walks down the street, 
He says, Why am I short of attention? 
Got a short little span of attention, 
And whoa, my nights are so long!”

-Paul Simon, “You Can Call Me Al”

At a recent meeting of some committee or other at the church where I work, a well-mean… Read full post »

There has been some discussion among my friend of late, on the subject of competition. One friend, a woman of a lovely, spiritual bent, insists that it is unnatural and that humans are wired to work cooperatively for the greater good. Another, more pragmatic type counters that we need only look… Read full post »

When I was seven, I loved to go to Natalie Redmond’s house. Her parents weren’t getting along (there was rumor that Mrs. had hurled a salt shaker at Mr. during a particularly heated exchange) and they were vying for the loyalty of the children by buying one each of everything that… Read full post »

The first day of kindergarten, I had to ride the bus. This was not that unusual at the time; fewer parents regarded the inaugural public school launch as an occasion to take the morning off, drive the maiden voyager to school, take 50 photographs and go into the classroom full of… Read full post »

“No,” I said to my husband, “you don’t get it. You can be born a vampire, or you can be made a vampire. Like being in the mob.”

“So how did Damon and Stefan get to be vampires – were they born that way?” he inquired gamely, steering the car… Read full post »