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Get your feet wet

My own private Guadalcanal

This Friday, we leave for the annual Ortlieb family reunion, scheduled this year for the North Carolina coast. The extended Ortliebs are smart, funny, easy-going and damned good looking, and I expect nothing less than an amazing, relaxing week. Because after the past two weeks, I damn well deserve it. By default, I’m in charge…

Misjudging: it’s complicated

More often than not, “celebreality” programming elicits little more than my schadenfreude: the vapidity, the shallowness, the disconnect from the real world by opportunity-rich adults never fails to delight and depress me. And Paris? Nick and Jessica? Britney and Kevin? Dina Lohan? I AM LOOKING AT YOU. (You too, Anna Nicole, but grave-dancing is just…

Because the Patriot Act SAYS I can.

Nola’s living in the basement. This isn’t optimal, but her sleep schedule doesn’t yet match Eliot’s, and the basement felt less “DSHS-anonymous-tipline” than the garage. Also, we kind of got over the Preciously Detailed Nursery with the first one, because it turns out babies are tiny design- and color-wheel-oblivious ingrates, and because you get over…

End Times: Sign 38

A high school friend of mine married a guy who gave her a vacuum for her birthday and a washer/dryer for Christmas. Whereas my response would have been to throw a load of laundry at his head while screaming that his unsentimental ass best get Hooverin’, she was thrilled with his gifts of household appliances,…