Spitting Mad

She remained glued to the bench, daring the Yeller to approach – almost hungry for an altercation. “Bring it on, bitch,” she thought…

Can I Tell You This?

How could she possibly be expected to hear these things and NOT feel some sense of righteous indignation? Her firstborn had been immersed in the world of Stephen King. Fuck neutrality, this was war – and she’d already chosen her side.

In the Dark

Middle school science never prepared me for managing a 5-year old in existential crisis.

Woke

Summertime is my favorite. Every night, we sit on our back porch (which we can FINALLY enjoy without layers of coats and complicated zippered undergarments) passing a doobie back and forth, staring out at the view of our neighbor’s yard against a backdrop of low-slung mountains. And we congratulate ourselves on being so damned woke….

Far Too Many Fux

Awhile back (we’re talking last summer, y’all), I had the distinct pleasure of reading The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. I say it was a pleasure because I have a life-long habit of giving LOTS of f*cks about LOTS of things… making it extremely refreshing to imagine another way of being- one with…