After swing dancing for hours, I have a busted big toe, and I smell like the beer that has been spilled on me, but my swishy red dress still looks great. Let’s walk down the street and hang out a little longer. Order a mocha, I am told by boy I danced with who was dancing trained in an Austrian year abroad. You’ll love it.
Read More Coffee vs. Tea: 5 RoundsSt. John declares that words make us human. That words, even, make us exist. It is words, and not pictograms or tools or logic or emotions. And so St. John is the patron saint of writers. I mean St. John the Evangelist, theoretical author of what is known as John’s gospel. I don’t know or […]
Read More The WordSaturday I walked to lunch and back with my mother, under the parade of oak trees on her street. It had rained, on and off, stopping long enough for us to walk to the restaurant in the beating humidity that had set up camp. When we got back to the front door of her duplex, she pulled out her keys, and codaed our conversation: “Mothers just want everyone to be happy.”
Read More HappyI was disappointed to learn that the pope is not keeping God in a box at the Vatican. Or if he is, that it was not part of the tour. I didn’t realize it until I had been there, but my half-Catholic blood is always secretly hoping that the Catholics have a direct line to […]
Read More … in a Box.
Going On 