In Which I Permit Myself A Rant Because We Are Allowed Crabbiness With Age, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:13am
Something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest for a long time: I strongly do not care for most articles about old people. Aging
Something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest for a long time: I strongly do not care for most articles about old people. Aging
I understand and even celebrate that it’s possible to feel contented with the domestic life. However, the actuality seems to escape me. Simplicity, repetition, silence—not
I went camping! I exclaim because it felt completely new. I haven’t camped anywhere since my son’s kindergarten class organized a weekend for all the
(and yes I did publish this early, but hey, the political news is pretty grim and at least we have each other) We probably all
To what extent does living a life resemble writing a book? How’s that for a tiny, precise, yes-or-no question on a Saturday morning? Booyah. (tl;dr
Thursday night, I went to the theater. That wasn’t me on the stage. This was, in front of a clothes hanger hanging on my shoe
In pursuit of understanding how to write genre fiction, I have read very much of it these past few years. I now know that I
One of the things about being 66 is memories. Flocks and layers. We the older humans perhaps discovered palimpsests, rather than the art historians who
Remember this dress? Well, I pretty much lived in it last summer. The linen floats, you can curl up on a sofa without a thigh
Sometimes I think I watch overmuch TV. That’s Jennifer Garner, above, in The Last Thing She Told Me. I love Garner as a presence on
I’ve never understood American’s fascination with the British royalty. While all countries enjoy ritual — we have the Met Gala, and the NBA All-Star game
As it turns out, I am leaving the house very early this morning to go for a hike with some Princeton classmates. It’s part of
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