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tit for tat(too)
I don’t know when tattoos became mainstream, but I am obviously late to the party. I have never considered a tattoo for myself mainly because of its permanence, which, ironically, is the very thing that others find appealing. For a very long time, I thought my mother and I were the only two women on the planet without a tattoo. Even the British Prime Minister’s wife had a dolphin inked on her ankle, and then Susan Sarandon got one. Another one. While my pristine canvas remained bare … I live a life that is peopled with wildly wonderful, creative women from all generations, only a few of whom are inked. I think. There are…
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bats in the belfry
I feel bad about my fear of bats, especially now that I know I should be more afraid of a world without them. I found out this morning about White-Nose Syndrome which has reached epidemic proportions in the United States, threatening to leave many species extinct. My mother is to be blamed for my fear of bats. Probably my grandmother too. As a little girl, my mother had been coaxed inside on those long summer evenings, when granny invariably called out, “Get you into the house or those bats will get stuck in your hair!” That did the trick, and with great success my mother applied the same tactic to me.…
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laugh & the world laughs with you
I was sad to read this week, that, in the end, it was leukemia that took Nora Ephron from us, cancer she had kept private in a world that already knew many of the intimate details of Nora’s aging neck, her dry skin, her small breasts about which she wrote in A Few Words About Breasts, the contents of her purse, and her weapon of choice against not only the gray hair that grows back with a vengeance but the youth culture in general – hair color. With a quick and daring wit, she regaled us with stories of the many indignities visited upon her as she grew older, but…
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planting pink
Lawn-mowers and leaf-blowers strike up their tune much earlier in the mornings now that summer has arrived in the desert southwest. By the time I left for work on Monday, I noticed, with the same kind of resignation triple-digit temperatures bring every year, that our flower beds were empty, the freshly mown grass less green, and, where just weeks before long branches hung low and heavy with hot pink blooms, were almost-bare limbs exposed to the sky above our house. I remember the uncharacteristically hot Spring day when our little family drove to a the Moon Valley nursery in search of a tree just like those which provided some shade during our…
