Every morning I get up, feed the dogs, boil a pot of water, and make a blog post. Then I drink my cup of hot water, scroll through Facebook, and wait for my reflux meds to kick in. Then I eat breakfast, take a shower, and start my day. I usually return to the internet… Continue reading My Day Offline
Category: childhood
To Pee or Not to Pee
I often dream about finding a public bathroom to use right before I wake up. It’s because I have to pee. Two nights ago I dreamed I was in a crowded restaurant and when I went into the bathroom, there were tables in there with groups of women seated around them. I stood at the… Continue reading To Pee or Not to Pee
Getting Away from all the No, No, No’s
My mom, bless her heart, had to keep five children in line, mostly by herself. She did this by keeping everyone in his or her place, as in, “No, you can’t do that!” I just found out that my younger sister also wanted to play clarinet in the band, like I did. But I was… Continue reading Getting Away from all the No, No, No’s
The Benefits of a Hard Childhood
My childhood friend from Iowa called the other day. As we were comparing notes about our dysfunctional childhood households (hers with physical abuse, mine verbal), she mentioned the immigrant caravan at the border. “What are going to do about that?” she said. “Let in the women and children,” I said. “I’m not sure about the… Continue reading The Benefits of a Hard Childhood
Weird Dreams
I often dream about finding a public bathroom to use right before I wake up. It’s because I have to pee. Two nights ago I dreamed I was in a crowded restaurant and when I went into the bathroom, there were tables in there with groups of women seated around them. I stood at the… Continue reading Weird Dreams
Her Left Foot
It was Labor Day weekend. We needed to get a handle on the mess in the garage. I asked my oldest to watch my youngest while we parents worked outside. She was nine, in 4th grade already for a week, and the baby was almost two and a half. Then a series of unfortunate events… Continue reading Her Left Foot
Don’t Let the Bugs Bug You
When my new science teacher announced on the first day of 7th grade that no one would get an A in his class if they didn’t make an insect collection, I was like, “NOOOOOOOO! I hate bugs!” My mother hated bugs. Her mother hated bugs. They hated mice, snakes, and dog poop, too. I walked… Continue reading Don’t Let the Bugs Bug You
