Sometimes the damn money bags ARE heavy.

I was right. It took about a week for the baffle-coma to wear off. Or maybe it was two weeks. I don’t know actually – time doesn’t penetrate a coma state. I counted time in congratulations and people’s praise of me. And in the rare backhanded, seething compliment. But since I’ve stopped desiring to tell…

Drownding isn’t a word. But I’m doing it anyway.

It’s back to my woo-woo Lisa the Good Witch therapist, and her hourly rate; which is so high it seems like only the most sad and baffled aging Hollywood wives would be asked to pay it. And me. Because goddammit, she’s a soul-fixer genius. I don’t care if she DOES believe the midichlorians that incandescence her blood…

Cancer of the Magillicutty.

My male GP offered to do my pelvic exam. Since he and I have established an appreciation of each other’s forthright manner (when I told him I was fat because I eat poorly and rarely exercise he was struck dumb from the shock of having a fat patient own that fact.) I wasn’t suprised when he…

I don’t know what’s appropriate

    I’m petitioning to become a member of the Order of the Eastern Star. (Exclusive, have to be daughter or wife of a Master Mason, you can’t sit with us). I will receive a home visit, my life will be thoroughly researched. Which is profoundly easy considering how much of it I splash around…

“Because we had sex!”

You know how people like to end their fortune cookies with “in bed”? That’s fun. Gus and I made up, “with a shovel in a mass grave,” to end our fortunes and that was funner. “You will overcome a great challenge (with a shovel in a mass grave.)” But we’ve got a better one now.…

Belay ON

Every summer I sit in the damp heat of the glassed in “Parent Aquarium” at the University’s pool and watch my daughter learn to swim. This year, as I was signing her up at the Fitness Center, I couldn’t stop looking at their rock wall. Brand new, forty feet high, weird little pockets and pinches…

Carnies and “Piss Off” Bonnets

  I live in a town called Independence. Actually I live in the town next to it…but you know how old small towns bleed together over the century, connected by spattered little strip malls and one-story office buildings? We’ve got that going on. If my name were “Christmas Oneill,” I wouldn’t make a big deal…

Fighting for No Promises

  My husband had this terrifying maniac of a friend years ago. Lloyd. Lloyd accidentally got married one day, when the girl he was sleeping with turned his post-coital hyperbole into a short lived and deranged reality. Their marriage was brief and unhappy. When Lloyd was mad at his wife, he’d get up in the…