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And then he broke our hearts.

For the past few months, I’ve been cultivating a perfectly life-like fantasy world in which today was not drawing inexorably closer. Despite the fundamental and quantifiable natures of time, April 9 was not to arrive, certainly not soon and quite possibly never. It stood so far ahead on the calendar that even a mention of…

“Mom, why is Eliot wearing a beehive?”

In hopes of getting her and Dad’s Florida-based selves relocated within spoiling distance of cherished only-grandchildren, my Mom’s been shacking up in the super-deluxe basement luxury suite (because nothing says “well appointed” like a utility sink) for a good six months, job hunting and nuzzling babies and cheerfully enduring our little experiment in multi-generational living….

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…

Consumption Junction

Screw the surge: if we’re serious about eradicating the insurgents, we will immediately decommission all U.S. military facilities in Iraq. And repurpose them into DAY CARE CENTERS. Because as the past two weeks of unintentional research has learned me, there is no more powerful biological weapon than a sick day-care kid. I’ve never visited one…