There are days that feel a little… blue. Not tragic, not dire. Just sort of soft and soggy around the edges, like a 5 Guys burger. Today was one of those days.
Continue readingI’m Not Down, I’m in My Blue Period
Post Category → Fine Whine
Nobody likes a whiner, but there’s something oddly satisfying about sharing a little bit of life’s miseries with others. It’s not about wallowing—it’s about airing out the laundry, shaking out the wrinkles, and maybe finding someone who’ll laugh along with you.
When Life DMed Me This 7-Syllable Plot Twist
It’s like a smorgasbord of symptoms, only this is the twisted kind of buffet line where you don’t get to pick the items you want, the items get to pick you.
Continue readingThe Miracle Max Corollary: Life, Laughter, and the ER
My mind drifts to that scene with Miracle Max, because I am nothing if not deeply philosophical, who explains to Inigo and Fezzik that Westley is only mostly dead, and that mostly dead is partly alive. But then I think of the Miracle Max Corollary, which if it isn’t a thing, I vote that it should be a thing, and that would have Inigo countering Miracle Max with Yes, but partly alive is mostly dead. Because that’s how it is feeling there in the ER.
Continue readingThe Day My Foolproof Anti-Aging Strategy Hit a Midlife Crisis
It seems a bit silly now, upon retrospect, but I came up with this cunning little strategy to combat aging. Not a full-blown master plan, mind you, but more of a casual hypothesis, the sort of thing you come up with people-watching while eating a sandwich on a park bench. Probably be a bestseller once… Continue reading
Turns Out Mamas & the Papas Got It Wrong
Monday, Monday. Can’t trust that day, they warned, when it was really Wednesday I should’ve been watching out for. I remember the moment the plot twist hit: there I was, flat on my back in bed, staring at the ceiling, barely able to move, mumbling bits of prayer like they were going out of style…. Continue reading
The Time I Failed Phoebe* the Phlebotomist
*Not her real name Let’s talk blood. I can’t donate mine, thanks to a stint living in the U.K. Mad cow precautions, they say. Serious stuff, I know, but when my daughters were little, it was always good for a laugh when talk of a blood drive came up and their dad, me, couldn’t sign… Continue reading