Enough About My Mother

I have a love/hate relationship with Monday morning now. Back when I was single and unemployed, I used to just have hate/hate.  Now that I have two small children who are old enough to fight over stuff, however, I pray at the altar of silence and Monday mornings, for at least a few hours . . . → Read More: Enough About My Mother


I sure do wish the “sandwich generation” meant a decades worth of people who can’t stop reliving their childhoods by eating countless Fluffernutters. Or a generation of people who had the good fortune to grow up in Sandwich, Massachusetts. Even better, a large swath of the public that can only enjoy sex in between . . . → Read More: Fluffernutters

Milk of Magnesia

“Milk of Magnesia” or at least that’s what I think my mother is saying. It’s hard to hear her since I’m standing in Aisle 3 of a Rite Aid, not the best for cell calls, and she’s mumbling. She’s 78 and has a mouth full of sores. Some chronic problem she hasn’t had in . . . → Read More: Milk of Magnesia

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