The Marital Coffee War
“Coffee, Brown”
Our morning habits,
For Each of us,
A pot brews
Poured over,
Estranged
~a contribution by Andy, in the comments section
In his New York Times column, Judge John Hodgman fielded an…
“Coffee, Brown”
Our morning habits,
For Each of us,
A pot brews
Poured over,
Estranged
~a contribution by Andy, in the comments section
In his New York Times column, Judge John Hodgman fielded an…
The following sentence just begs for snorts of derision, and I can imagine Stanley Tucci’s character rolling his eyes. But The Devil Wears Prada 2 parallels to the Midwestern magazine world.
Sure, our versions are inevitably smaller scale and far less sophisticated, less privy to talent, couture, exposure.…
A few weeks ago, the Sunday New York Times crossword was printed with an error. Mistakes had been made before, but in eighty-four years of cruciform puzzles, this was the first all-out disaster. The error meant that the clues and squares did not line up; the puzzle could not…
Chuck away all the awards and trophies? Absolutely.
“Ach! Don’t do that!” The dog dropped his paw, dismayed by my sharp tone. For years he has swiped my arm to get my attention, wangle a treat, stop me from overwork. Now—seemingly overnight, right after my sixty-fifth birthday—my skin has thinned to tissue paper, and his toenails cause…
He had integrity, always. He could be sly and mischievous, and he had a sizable ego, and he could drive you crazy, coming round on deadline day to rehearse his topic for Donnybrook at length. But he came round to all of us because he wanted all angles, all opinions. By the time he wrote or spoke on air, he sounded sure and strong, because he had researched and read and listened all week.
“Honey, you look sick without it,” my mom informed teenage me. Gentle and loving, she was hardly ever that harsh. But she was caught in the cult of femininity, and she wanted to make damned sure her daughter understood the need for artifice.
I would like to say…
I ask chatbots for recipes and gardening advice. Bash Ahmed, a brilliant friend who works in IT, has long exploratory discussions about politics, culture, and finance. When he commented—after the president’s message to “Open the fuckin’ strait, you crazy bastards—Praise be to Allah”—that we were living in Dr. Strangelove,…
Geometry needs to be part of the zeitgeist.
A solid old brick house on Clayton Road with a sign outside: Living Insights Center. A meeting place, maybe, some kind of recovery program? I step inside. In the first room to the right, a lifesize statue of St. Therese of Lisieux gazes at an illuminated Qur’an, a silver…