Fellow hot sleeper and anti-pajama-ite, dreaming twixt Dad and fur.
These charming men.
The house’s resident XYs share a lazy, hairy Sunday.
All the leaves are brown
The longest, dreariest days of winter make me long for the hottest, most miserable days of summer last. This particular one was so noteworthy, my handsome, delightful husband and daughters LED the 5pm, 6pm and 11pm news.
This bed I’ve made
She curls into a hot parenthesis against me, tiny hands and feet twitching in ballet dreams. I gather the bedclothes over a wisp of porcelain shoulder: flanneled sheets, down comforter with a sueded duvet; February, and the weight of bedding has not been altered since the winter prior. “Mama’s bed,” she’d whispered before squirreling in,…
Not available in your grocer’s deli
Michael: “What the hell is ‘v-a-j’?” Me: “Stop playing dumb, you can’t expect a five-year-old to be a perfect speller. Obviously, she’s asking for some old vadge.” Michael: “I’m really disappointed in that spelling.” Me: “Frankly, I’d always thought fresh was preferred. I’m just relieved to discover there’s a market for the well-seasoned vadge. Tick-tock,…
Hitched
In a half hour, we will be married. The Marriage Commissioner and photographer have yet to arrive, Krista time still to firmly, lovingly harass me into the gown, but just now, after an 18-hour ceaseless lashing of rain and wind, the sky has suddenly gone sweet and dry, and we burst onto our soon-to-be altar…
Alienating the people we most love, the Holiday Edition
Christmess passed!! And one tradition Michael and I have had every year since Eliot was born is to assemble a book of photos to give as an annual gift to a handful of relatives: the VAUNTED GRANDPARENTS. Between death and divorce and remarriage and the way our family structure works, the number of grand- and…
And a very merry
It’s merely the afternoon of Christmas Eve, and we are, incomprehensibly, done: presents are wrapped, cornbread is baked in preparation for tomorrow’s oyster dressing, gifts have been shipped and (nick-of-time) received, charity undertaken. I can’t believe there’s time for the luxury to write, to cut out more cookies with small floured hands, to lay with…
Holy wooden anniversary
As of last Saturday, Michael and I turned the humongous clock hands to FIVE YEARS OF TOGETHERNESS. Apparently, the traditional gift for a five-year anniversary is “wood”; I was gonna give him a wooden ship in a bottle to symbolize our relationship’s stultifying entrapment and corking of his freedom, but then I figured he’d just…
On balance
Me: So you know how last week we had that talk about how I need to take better care of myself, and part of that was taking at least one night off a week for myself? Mike: Jesus, do I ever. Me: Hard to forget, right? What with you just going to a little after-work…