I read a great memoir about a girl’s tough childhood, with violence, danger, and an abusive older brother. I recommended it to Facebook friends online. A friend said she didn’t like it because she didn’t think the book rang true. “The Mormon part or the survivalist part?” I asked her. “Neither.” She didn’t think anyone… Continue reading Behind Closed Doors
Yesterday, as I drove up the freeway to BART, where I would meet two girlfriends and one of their daughters to go to the city to see Hamilton again, I was composing my blog post, out loud, in the slow lane. I was on a roll, phrasing each sentence to perfection as other drivers wondered… Continue reading Writing It Down
(re-run) When you’re in the dog house, you are in trouble. You’ve done something bad. As a child, I was never in the dog house because we didn’t have one. We didn’t even have a dog. My mother had her own strain of weird expressions that she said to us kids on a regular basis,… Continue reading Fighting for Blue Jeans
Back in high school in a suburb of Des Moines, Iowa, we did whatever we could to stir up some fun and sometimes some trouble. It was a simple existence: go to school, do homework, think about and look for boys. With no cell phones or social media to organize anything, kids spent a lot… Continue reading Chinese Fire Drills and Other Politically Incorrect Things from my Past
The family Dachshund just turned eighteen on June 9th. He is a skeleton with fur (photo is from years ago). My son brought him out to my car to to show me the other day, since Wiener now lives with my ex. I have been the one to do the hard job of taking the… Continue reading Saying Good-bye to Man’s Best Friend
(re-run) When I was sixteen, I saved up my babysitting money and went downtown to Cottage Grove Avenue in Des Moines, where there was a head shop filled with incense, hanging beads, roach clips, black light posters and tie dye. Although I wasn’t a pothead (I didn’t smoke cigarettes either), I enjoyed the ambience of… Continue reading Pennies from Heaven
Being from the Midwest means I grew up with Iowa talk and Midwestern lingo. Some of it applies across the country, but none of it seems to have made it to California. Like the pioneers who had to discard their prized possessions alongside the trail as their tired oxen could no longer take the weight,… Continue reading Not One Iota of Truth!