I am not particularly lady-like. I clean up well, but I am more motorcycle boots and faux fur hats than court shoes and pearls. I am relentlessly fair, but not particularly thoughtful. I am the one forever apologizing empty-handed on the doorstep. My house is Virgo clean but my towels don’t match. I am loud,…
Tag: identity
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Leave New York for a few years and things change. The M train becomes a legitimate, viable option. Bridges are renamed, bike lanes birthed, favorite restaurants shut down. Young muscled men on the subway sell fruit snacks and granola bars instead of candy and batteries. But some things never change. The silhouette of a saxophonist…
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
I am not, nor have I ever been, a classic beauty. Over the years the body parts subjected to my disdain, dissatisfaction and scorn have been many and varied. My nose, my freckles, my knees. My gummy smile, my fine hair, lack of boobs, saggy boobs, stretch marks, short waist, cellulite. I am harsh lines…
All the World’s a Stage
We have a Lego family that lives on our bookshelf. The boys and I created the custom mini-figures for my husband’s birthday last year. There, among my books, under a towering Lego Empire State Building, they stand in all their primary color, plastic haired glory. An expensive, brick-ed out representation of the four great loves of…
Wine and Cheese (Doodles) 