Look. I know that nap time is the only time you get away from the tiny, sticky fingers and wild, maniacal eyes of your 3-year-old.Read More
Essays & Short Fiction
Every time I think I have this writing thing down, I read about a nomadic writer who's living her life in Budapest, the Pacific Northwest, a stretch of beach in Portugal, and save for her thoughts and her coffee, she's alone.Read More
Naturally, I queried my friends first. But since they haven't lost their minds and would happily give me a winning Powerball ticket or their SUVs before handing out the names of their babysitters, I was left empty-handed.Read More
One hour and 20 minutes later, we exited. The middle child was wearing a Santa hat I’d apparently paid for, and my 3-year-old was lying on his belly on the bottom rack of the shopping cart, dragging his hands between my splayed legs as I walked cowgirl style out those automatic doors.Read More
I'm convinced that my success as a mother is measured, in part, by my ability to manage almost anything I've been handed.
When my three-year-old shrieks, "Here!" from the backseat while I'm driving, I deftly reach back to accept any number of things he's screaming to be rid of:
Synopsis: When campaign manager Trembley finds out that Ronald Klump, his candidate for the Republican nomination, is a vegetarian, he knows his campaign is headed for the crapper unless he can hide this liberal ideology from the GOP constituents. However, when Klump's shocking alliance with the liberals is revealed, only respected colorectal surgeon, Susan Anthony, can discover just how full of shit this candidate really is.Read More