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Bump on a blog.

Today would actually mark a bit more than 2 months since I last posted to House of Clams. Given that the site is professionally designed, actually paid for, and I’m a real-life writer, that pretty much makes me a bona-fide loser. BUT! I’ve also endured a Truly Horrible Thing since my last post, giving me…

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…

A matter of perspective

I generally consider myself a “glass-half-full” brand of girl, even frequently perceiving said glass as completely full, sometimes o’erfloeth with the full, and occasionally outright “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” that metaphorical glass just cannot possibly contain the fullness. So the past few weeks of household viral misery has been a wee test of all that…

Winter, you’re dead to me: It’s Opening Day

Hot on the heels of daffodil explosions and everybody’s favorite crucifixion, it’s MLB Opening Day! And while it may be sleeting like all suck in Seattle, Opening Day means one thing: six glorious months of elation, disappointment, and beer and nachos at Safeco Field. In related media, Sunday’s special NYTimes section gave the Mariners crossed-fingers-and-toes…

The most pretentious opening sentence yet

Between reminiscences of his days with Huxley and Burroughs, Timothy Leary and I had been debating the future of the written word. How exactly I ended up on Tim Leary’s terrace in Beverly Hills listening to first-hand tales of literary lions and admonished that processed sugar (was) a deadlier American addiction than any illegal substance…