I was boyish. I was athletic, ambitious, outspoken, competitive, noisy, rambunctious. I had scabs on my knees and my socks slid into my loafers and I could throw a football. I wanted desperately not to be that way. I wanted to be a girl, as soft and as pink as a nursery. And nothing would do that for me, I felt, but breasts.
The D Word - The most important thing about me, for quite a long chunk of my life, was that I was divorced. Even after I was no longer divorced but remarried, this was true. I have now been married to my third husband for more than twenty years. But when you’ve had children with someone you’re divorced from, divorce defines everything; it’s the lurking fact, a slice of anger in the pie of your brain.
Christmas Dinner - We have a traditional Christmas dinner. We’ve been doing it for twenty-two years. There are fourteen people involved – eight parents and six children — and we all get together at Jim and Phoebe’s during Christmas week to exchange presents and make predictions about events in the coming year.
The Six Stages of E-Mail - Infatuation, Clarification, Confusion, Disenchantment, Accomodation, Death.
Addicted to L-U-V
About three years ago, I stumbled onto something called Scrabble Blitz. It was a four-minute version of Scrabble solitaire, on a Web site called Games.com, and I began playing it without a clue that within 24 hours - I am not exaggerating - it would fry my brain.
The Girl Who Fixed the Umlaut
Shit. Now what? She’d fallen asleep with her Palm Tungsten T3 in her hand. It would take only a moment to smash it against the wall and shove the battery up the nose of whoever was out there annoying her.