You know the rules

Jane-Anne knocked on my door on the morning of the 24th. I open my window and looked at her, confused. “You know the rules!” I say to her and her husband. The two of them are huddled on my front walk, taking their sweet, lovable dogs for a walk as they do every day, rain…

The Heartbreak of 19th Century Masturbation

I spent three hours early this morning researching 19th century masturbation for my next article, until I was just so goddamn sad that I had to stop. I have been doing a series for The Week where I look at the outrageous hygiene and social advice given to people 100 years ago. It’s fun, funny.…

Clinging to a Styrofoam cooler

Yesterday, as I hid in flannel sheets to find a nap I didn’t really need, I realized why I think of myself as such a mediocre mom. It’s because I thought there would be a lake. All I’ve ever had is a river. My life has been a river. No, let’s have the proper visual.…

Woman! presses out the wrinkles.

I have a friend who is hobbled by her well-meaning mother. Her mother, we’ll call her Maude, is a woman used to being listened to and respected. She raised her children impoverished and single-handedly, and they become doctors and professors. I once complimented her ex-husband on how much I liked his daughter and he told…