Learning to ride a bicycle is a rite of passage. You move up from the safety of three wheels to the precarious-looking two. Maybe you have training wheels to start, but it’s not too long before you’re off and running … er, riding. And those two wheels are where you spend a huge part of…
Category: coronavirus
A Tale of Two Gumbos
A gumbo with no roux — that’s crazy talk, right? Who ever heard of such a thing? A gumbo with no roux… I’m pretty set in my ways about a few things, and gumbo is one of them, as I have written before (you can read that post here). But if 2020 has taught us…
Anticipation: The Key to Joie de Vivre
Hey friends! After a month-long pity party during which time I couldn’t think of a single thing to write that wasn’t (a) whiney or (b) bitchy or (c) hateful, your girl is back. I know y’all don’t want to read that crap, so I won’t write it! After all, this ain’t therapy and I ain’t…
The Mask of Freedom
(AUTHOR’S NOTE: My childhood friend Mike Hayes called me out on this post not so much because he disagreed with the overall theme of it, but because of the way I had presented it in places. Mike and I have known each other our whole entire lives, and while we have usually very different opinions…
Art and My Inner Georgia
One hundred and one days. That’s how long I’ve been sheltering in place, safer in placing, and working from home. I haven’t been home for this long since I took three months off for maternity leave 21 years ago. Except now I don’t have a newborn to keep me occupied. But I’m a creative person,…
Lilylivered
Chicken livers. Tragedy* loves chicken livers. Specifically fried chicken livers. Being the good wife that I am, I decided that if he wanted them, he should have them. No…I did not order takeout. No…I did not have some delivered. I decided to make them at home…from scratch. That’s why this story is a testament to…
Stop Whistling and Start Singing
Whistling past the graveyard. That phrase has been running through my mind all week long like it’s on a neverending loop. Whistling past the graveyard. Whistling past the graveyard. Whistling past the graveyard. Frankly that’s how most of these essays get started. Some little thing — a memory, an image, a notion, a saying —…
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
Think warm thoughts. Think cool thoughts. Lie down and put a pillow on your stomach. Growing up, if I complained about being cold or hot or not feeling well, Mama would usually reply with one of these phrases. I would try to think hard about something that fit the situation, maybe Granny’s fireplace or the…
The Nightlife Ain’t No Good Life
It’s been a helluva week. My car broke down, and I had to walk the rest of the way to work. I passed a murky pool by some rundown apartments and saw a sunken Tonka dump truck barely visible in the green water. By the time I got halfway to my office it was getting…
Safer at Home, Stronger at Home
Well folks, here we are seven weeks into what started out as social distancing, then became shelter in place, and is now safer at home. Who thinks of the names? “Shelter in place” I get. It’s a common term you hear during tornado warnings and other act-of-God events. But “safer at home”? Sure. We are….