(One of those rare occasions when I bring my work-work into my personal writing.) We'll start here: This is the third and last time I'll post the recipe link, in case anyone hasn't taken the bait in the last two days: Here's the official recipe, according to the folks at Food52, who got the recipe … Continue reading And now a word about October.
A couple I know, or used to know, had an enviable weeknight routine: When he arrived home from work each day, she made two martinis, handed one to him, and the two of them sat together in a room to talk about their respective days. Their children knew better than to interrupt them, knew they … Continue reading Something about cocktail hour.
The Mockingbird Hunter. That a cat would stand in the way of their divorce was unimaginable. Over a dog they might have fought viciously for custody. But over a cat, and this cat specifically? No. Neither of them was taking that goddammed feline, not for any amount of money or stock or property or apology. … Continue reading Something fictional.
It is our 22nd summer in Memphis. It is time now, in the midst of a global pandemic, racial reckoning, and massive upheaval, to tell the story of our house. But the story of our house, our home, would be void of meaning without the story of how we got here. And so, to start, … Continue reading An ordinary marriage.
They didn't know their names, much less how to walk on a leash. They weren't housebroken. They were heartworm positive and required treatment. You said: Put your dogs in the car, and let's go. We had driven down to a rescue group's house in rural Mississippi to check out a pair of chocolate Labs I'd … Continue reading 9
Nurse the baby, feed the toddler (Cheerios), pack bags, shower, dress, listen to Veggitales, drive to Calvary (look, it's a backhoe! and an excavator!), go to work, leave work at 5:55 (because Calvary Place closes at 6), feed the children, read books, bathe children, read more books, nurse the baby, fall asleep. I have a … Continue reading 15
We're going to need a bigger house, I said. You were not sure. The people who built this house and lived here for 52 years, the people who planted the twin dogwood trees in the front yard, they raised two children in this house, you said. But both children were girls, I reminded you. Our … Continue reading 16
It rained on Memorial Day, so instead of playing tennis, as I'd planned, I sat on the sofa with you, watched Trading Spaces and Nigella Bites while our son crawled on the floor and played with the red, plastic fireman's hat that he got at a Memorial Day parade and the green stretchy band that … Continue reading 17