Martha was killed almost a year ago. Struck by a car as she was leaving a shop in her Brooklyn Heights neighborhood. And her death still doesn’t make any sense to me. I don’t think it ever will.
The best sambal chicken ever. If my husband would make this for me every night, I would be the happiest woman ever. And he knows more happiness = more sex.
I am not one to use affirmations. In times of sadness or confusion, I have not been helped by “Tomorrow is another day.” No “Let go, let God.” Or “I am worthy of love.” The only phrase that ever comes in to my head when I am upset about something is “This too shall pass”...
Did you know that you could lift weights with your vagina? Maybe I can get toned by Valentine's Day.
First, they start going down to the playground at the end of the street. By themselves.
And walking the mile home from school.
I’ve been to Key West many times. But I’ve never participated in a writing workshop.
So I didn’t know what to expect when I spent five days there this past week participating in a workshop titled "Personal Narrative in an Impersonal World". (Also known as the memoir.)