Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

It's been awhile.  Too long.  Too short.  In all reality, probably more of just what I needed. Since 1 May I spent around 22 nights in my bed, and not consecutively.  Oiy vey, I know. So, in light of that . . . here's a momentary catch up on how I found a way past the long and painful writer's block.  I have to say, when you write as much as I do and the words refuse to come . . . it is a painful stagnation, like being suspended in mid flight with the awestruck wonder of starring at an expansive world and a gut wrenching fear as the tension isn't meant to be stationary . . . too long and you'll snap, to never return from the motley flight of dreams, death, and a sliver of deafening reality filled with angst and self loathing. So, I finally wrote again.  Passionate, funny, and filled from my core.  Damn.  Damn, what a sweet release. Along the way there, I meandered Turkey for two glorious weeks in May.  My presentation was stellar, as ...

As a girl, as many (most?) have in the Western World, I read Anne of Green Gables  with great flourish and glee.  The entire series, given to me for a birthday I think by my grandparents, was read more than once.  I remember some snotty little shits mocking me for it.  Yea, last I heard they didn't make it very far in life anyway . . . they've never been farther than Florida, think that sinners live in NYC, and the world ends past England and France.  Odd, I know . . . as the prefab furniture I bet they pour into their homes comes from IKEA, out of Sweden, and to them that country would be A) some foreign land and B) not worthy.  Yea, conservative memories of the Midwestern tween and early teen years still have dark strains.   C'est la vie.   As those reads of Anne Shirley went, back then I doubt I really grasped the nature and geographic locale of PEI.  Though, in the late dirty 30s I certainly do.  I was ...

And here it's been a month since I last posted . . . eh, sorry about that.  First I went with students to do some community and gardening work in Ecuador.  Ten days, and three cities later, I came back to NYC with a nasty, nasty bought of strep.  Two rounds of antiobiotics later, and I'm still under the weather and not rebounded.  I like my MD, he's nice enough, but . . . 150 bones to see him, another round of antibiotics (which 99 percent of women know the over-the-counter cure that goes along with those), and yea . . . I'm hoping a few days of early to bed, lazy evenings, and DayQuil will fix me.  Stubborn, maybe.  Broke from taxes, certainly.  Though, I owed a little less than a third of what I had to hemorrhage last year.  So . . . I feel pretty lucky right now. Some quick pics of Ecuador for ya, and no . . . there are no pictures of my strep throat.  Though, I did learn you can search strep throat on Instagram and . . . yea, people STO...