Printing out manuscripts to take to my writing group is way harder if I get distracted while they’re printing and don’t notice that the paper has stacked too high, causing the pages to start curling up and then flopping down in reverse order, until there’s too many to do that so they start flipping over the other side of the printer to the floor, and then they give up entirely and jam the thing up, leaving me with a jammed printer and a whole pile of out-of-order pages in varying degrees of crunch-ed-ness.
Author: marylowd
An Unexpected and Somewhat Painful Ritual
My three-year-old likes to bonk heads goodnight.
And That’s a Wrap on Having a Father
My old white dad just explained to me why he opposes Roe v. Wade because of Dred Scott while referring to the “War of Northern Aggression.”
He’s got his racism and sexism tied up in a complicated bow. Continue reading “And That’s a Wrap on Having a Father”
The Most Canonical Christmas Song Has Been Chosen
“You know, people my age, when we think of Christmas songs, we mainly think of Jingle Bells.” — my nine-year-old, apparently speaking for her generation
Tidbits from a Time of Survival
All the political parties should agree to only run women candidates for president next time around.
I feel like I’m trapped in the climactic scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark but also surrounded by Weeping Angels. Close your eyes. Don’t blink. Continue reading “Tidbits from a Time of Survival”
Oh, To Be a Fish
My betta fish is happy. It’s a warm day, so he’s jumping and darting about his tank. Full of energy; full of joy; swimming and being a fish.
This is what pets are for — to be small and cared for, concerned with controllable, fixable things — like whether the house is warm today.
It gives me someone in my life whose world I can make perfect and joyous, just by doing something simple like turning up the heat.
I’m With Her
I feel like I’ve been told that no matter what I do, no matter how much I succeed, if some man wants to take it away from me, he can.
Origin Story?
Took the three-year-old to the doctor for a spider bite. He got a Spider-Man sticker and has proudly placed it over his spider bite.
Spooky Day
Ghost-busted my way through a corn maze this morning and eviscerated pumpkins to the chilling strains of Phantom of the Opera this evening.
They’re Not Wrong…
I dreamed that my mother and my publisher were arguing about the exact extent to which my college degree was useless.