Good Enough
I simply cannot call something finished, whether I’m re-checking a final exam for the fifth time or strategically placing a seventieth sprinkle on a Seurat-inspired Christmas cookie.
You Already Time Travel
What if I told you there is a way to travel through time instantly using only items you already own? What if I told you that you probably already time travel several times a week?
More Feminist Confessions
I want to defy convention. Break molds. And at the same time I want to be with my husband. And have children. And bake lots of cookies. And I hate shoveling the driveway.
A Muttering of Ducks
I fill a basket with crisp lettuce and Swiss chard. A raspberry finds its way into my mouth. I close my eyes, breathe deep, and finally feel my shoulders relax.
Things That Have Happened in Austria Since I Left
A herd of cows killed a hiker in Tirol. This might not seem newsworthy, but the hiker was German, which necessitates at least a small degree of suspicion of foul play.
Potato Salad Diaries
September 18, 2014. I can imagine the dinner conversation now: “Is it just me, or does this macaroni salad have more parsley in it than usual?” My bad.
The End of Things
Things are always ending and beginning, simultaneously and separately. It’s not that an end leads to a beginning—an end is a beginning. They are the same.
Picking at the Past
I used to play the guitar. Never well, but I used to play. I did it because I had to—during the application process, I ticked a box that said “I know a few chords.” My fate was sealed.
Homecoming
I miss the energy. The companionship. The routine. I miss the rah rah school spirit and the constant activity and the sense that I was always accomplishing something (seemingly) important.
Feminist Confessions
Somehow, years before, I’d put myself in a box. I could either be pretty or a bad-ass soccer player, not both, and it was obvious which the superior choice was.
