12 Jul

Scissors, tape, pink pen, paper scraps, post-its, the goddess, a cold 21st Amendment beer. Yes, I am listening to Moby, Play (’99)… What of it?


Awesome crap from my grandmother. Vintage cocktails and entertaining ideas “For all the parties you have!”*

14 May

Make any eat-out a luau with Hawaiian Punch

My grandmother, (bless her crazy 87 year old heart), visits and leaves bags of stuff she wants us to have, but doesn’t want to see us go through and reject, as we have been known to do all of our lives. More often than not, these bags contain crap like expired coupons for Red Lobster, recipes for grilled vegetables (people need a recipe for that?), sponges and pens endorsing her local politicians, and tips for controlling ants that she clipped from a 1997 newspaper, then circled and double underlined the nuts and bolts of the article. But sometimes, sometimes, there are treasures like this.


I’d like to take a moment to zoom in on the lady in the middle, proudly holding what seems to be two giant prime rib and pineapple skewers. Love your shirt, sister!


Luau Picnic! make picnics Luau-festive with a special treat for every member of the family.


Oh, jeez. And I quote: Pour Hawaiian Punch for baby into his bottle and pack with his baby food – ready to bring him island refreshment. (and cavities and ADD and diabetes and cancer from the Red Dye #5) WTF? Did people really do this? Well, this right here should put an end to any breastfeeding vs. formula feeding war, if you believe the media hype. People used to put Hawaiian Fucking Punch in baby bottles. Mommas feed your babies the best way you can – breast, bottle – and say no fucking way to Hawaiian Punch. Okay.


This dude’s had too much punch.

It’s gone to his cheeks! Love the illustration in all it’s late 60’s glory! That Hawaiian Punch is probably dosed.

Peace, Love and Hawaiian Punch!

Just some carefree and groovy teens having a beach-luau.

*It should be noted that I do not have very many parties. Certainly not in the way my grandmother must think I do. And that, I suppose, makes me wish I did.

My Grandmother’s Opinion: That Actor

21 May

GRAMMY: I used to think that actor was so handsome, you know? But then I saw him without makeup. He’s nothin’.

ME: What actor?


ME: Oh, okay.


Last Line: Where the Wild Things Are

8 May


WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE “…and it was still hot.”

No matter what you do, momma loves you best of all. And also, your imagination knows no bounds. Never stop dreaming.

After his mom sends him to his room, Max sails off on a wild adventure only to return home “years later” to find his dinner waiting for him. “… and it was still hot.” It’s actually a longer sentence, but that last clause is the kicker.

Thank you, Maurice Sendak. R.I.P.

Meaningful Last Line: Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

14 Apr


Hey, things kinda suck everywhere. Ought to get used to it. Love, Mom

P.S. Nowhere is better than where you are. Live each day. Don’t wait.

Who are we, the Kardashians? Pt 3 Snow

21 Jan

At our new place, we don’t hanve to shovel snow! Omg. Who arewe, the Kardashians?


Who are we, the Kardashians? Pt 2 Laundry

19 Jan

At our new place, we have a washer and a dryer inside our new place. Who are we, the Kardashians?


Who are we, the Kardashians? Pt 1 Cabinets

19 Jan

At our new place, we have sooo many kitchen cabinets! Who are we, the Kardashians?

This is only half of them! (Still unpacking.)

Fear and Labor

16 Jan

Here. Omg. This is up! I feel super cool and all embarrassed, and I’m so honored to have my writing up at The Feminist Breeder!

San Francisco seemed as good as any place to pee on a stick. After two weeks of driving cross-country feeling a little off, blaming car sickness and altitude changes for my nausea and exhaustion, it was time for more wine, one last cigarette and the inevitable. (Read more)

An essay about my fear, (terror?) of having a baby and how I transformed into someone I’d never thought I’d be.


Paul Grossmann took this of my gigantic boy belly. He's an awesome photographer you should know.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was scared shitless and was really looking for someone else who was just like me and got through it.

The fact that women do it every day, have multiple children etc. did not matter. I thought my fear was something no one else had or could even understand. What I found was women who were anxiously anticipating the arrivals of their little bundles, not someone who wondered if she could just ask to be knocked out and have them take the baby out. (Although, I was also terrified and mistrusting of hospitals, doctors and bitchy labor and delivery nurses.)

This essay is a small snippet of my entire experience, but a really important snippet. If one other terrified pregnant woman who envisions childbirth as the climax to a bad (good) torture-horror film finds this and is calmed, at least for a moment, I’ll feel pretty good.

Experimenting on my Students: A Cure for my “Cell Phones in the Classroom” Rage

11 Jan

The Phone Stack is a brilliant and fun idea for a group of friends out to dinner, whereby everyone puts his or her phone on the table and whoever goes for it first, pays the check. I LOVE it, because I hate myself when I realize I’m sitting, having a conversation with someone AND checking my emails, in part because, 1. it’s rude, 2. because I wasn’t able to recall the instance I picked up my phone and began checking emails, and 3. because this idea has so many other possibilities for use.

Family dinner for one. However, my son is not even a year old, and while we do all eat dinner together, we are so involved in feeding him and ourselves, that out iPhones stay away. So, I will catalogue this idea for future reference.

In the meantime, I am definitely going to try something like this with my students this semester! Their incessant texting under the desk drives me up a wall. I’m a pretty laid back professor, but my uber-rage turns on when I see the glances into the lap and the thumb typing. And, when I call them out, it’s usually like, “Wha?” I have tried a number of things to get them to stop, but it really is a disturbing compulsion. Kids. Seriously! Draw in your notebook! Write a note to your boyfriend! Freakin’ zone out and daydream.


Sometimes I long for simpler times.

So, I think this will be a fun social experiment and maybe they can then police themselves I hate policing when I’m trying to take about story arc and immediacy in storytelling.

But, what should be the penalty for the person/people who go for their phones? It can’t be something that punishes the whole class and it’s got to be something that others would want someone else to have to do. Like picking up the tab at a restaurant. Teachers? Students? What do you think?

Be reasonable! Or don’t. I like ridiculous suggestions, too!