A summer love letter to Maine.
It’s been 6 years since I moved here, and I’m ready to confess what I know you’ve been hoping to read: I think I’m in love.
With the coast of Maine.
Enjoy my “Life” stories & videos!
Post on: July 22nd, 2011
Digg
Post on: February 11th, 2011
Valentine’s Day is not for sissies.
Day of love? Or satanic plot?
These are the days that try men’s souls. And women’s.
I speak not of our nation’s economic woes, nor of the mountains of snow threatening to collapse our roofs. No, ladies and gentlemen, I speak of the days leading up to Valentine’s Day.
Post on: February 2nd, 2011
Putting the sexy back in taxes.
Recently, I reluctantly purchased something with accordion pleats, reinforced gussets, and elastic closures. No it was not, as one friend suggested, a corset. I bought folders. Legal sized folders. If you are over the age of 21 and own anything beyond a toothbrush, tickets to a Lady Gaga concert and perhaps a winter jacket, you know precisely the folders of which I speak.
Post on: November 2nd, 2010
Zero degrees of separation.
The great (and disturbingly incestuous) state of Maine.
Most of us are familiar with the concept known as “six degrees of separation.” It’s the idea that all humans are within six steps of connectivity. That whole friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend thing.
Post on: October 18th, 2010
Adieu!
Happy World Menopause Day, Ladies!
Just when you thought there were no more holidays for Hallmark to cash in on…here you have it. A day for the world to celebrate the cessation of our menstrual cycles.
Post on: August 23rd, 2010
Cleaning house.
I LOVE this card.
The fact that I have it taped to one of the glass panes of my kitchen door goes a long way in explaining why my house was not chosen for the celebrated “Cape Elizabeth Kitchen Tour” which will be taking place in a few short weeks.
Post on: August 10th, 2010
Baby, I was born (not) to run.
"Yo, Adrienne!"
(This weeks ”NO SUGAR ADDED” Column, in The Forecaster Newspapers)
I hate running.
My adversarial relationship with the sport began as a freshman in college. After a few too many Fritos, a friend suggested we form a running group. Before I knew what I was being sucked into – wham! – my alarm clock was rudely awakening me at 4:30 a.m. on a chilly autumn morning and I was propelling myself toward the iconic steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, just like Sylvester Stallone in “Rocky.”
Post on: May 28th, 2010
AARP(eeps).
Earlier this week, I received a piece of mail that once again left me wondering about the state of our so called technologically advanced civilization. I walked into my kitchen and casually leafed through the unwanted pile of envelopes and useless flyers from a variety of stores I never shop in. And there I saw it….lurking beneath a circular. Four sinister letters, emblazoned upon the corner of an otherwise un-noteworthy white business envelope: AARP. The American Association of Retired Persons. Or People. Or Peeps. For those of you actually of retirement age, peeps is slang for “people”…I’m not making reference to those yellow marshmallow chicks served up at Easter. Although I think an assisted living development filled with marshmallow chicks playing Mahjong would be something to really look forward to in my later years.
Post on: April 11th, 2010
WANTED: Soul mate…with throw-up bowl.
There are two sounds that can simultaneously awaken me from a deep sleep…and strike fear into my heart. The first is the sound of a gargantuan pine tree falling onto my house (see my “Oh Tannenbaum” blog post from the end of February). The second is the sound of a child. Vomiting. IN MY BED.
Post on: March 8th, 2010
The sausage incident…revisited.
Ok, so I wrote this story in the early summer of 2008. And I just had a repeat of the same incident. Except all three of my children were in attendance. I was still annoyed…but I didn’t end up throwing myself onto my bed and weeping. So I guess I’m making progress in the grieving/healing department. Phew!
