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” 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 Is it possible this is blank? Yes because despite my hip facade which in itself is questionable, I am terribly intimidated by cyber world still. But in honor of Oscar season, I am going to publish a piece here that ran in the LA Times fours years ago which they cleverly called Oscar, Baby . . . → Read More: Oscar, Baby  Comments are closed  Blog
|
|
|
Copyright © 2019 Afterbirth Stories - All Rights Reserved |
|
Subscribe to our podcasts in iTunes
Subscribe to our RSS feed
