Secrets from the Closely-Guarded Girl Manual

Sure. I could pay a tree service. Or whoever you hire to take down a massive rose bush with thorns the size of my thumb that one neighborhood kid has already gotten himself snagged on.
This rose bush – less than a foot tall when I naively planted it – has mushroomed to mammoth proportions, as [...]

Let’s Judge a Few Books by Their Covers.

Not that I am in the least bit deserving of any sort of Special Treatment, but like my dog, I galumph through the world, expecting everyone to like me. (And if they’re cute, they can pet me.) I talk to absolute strangers as if I’ve known them my whole life – sometimes as if we’re already having a conversation.

Blue hair. Big deal.

My kids’ dad looked at me last night when I said: “I’m a typical mom,” as though I’d said: “I’m an anteater,” with an indulgent look over the top of his eyeglasses.

“Um,” he started, flailing for tact, “ya think? No.”

Smoke the Guilt Away.

We used to call ourselves The Amateur Nursing Association; people came to our house to die. You were wondering, maybe, where I acquired this black sense of humor of mine?

I’ll bet you think this song is about you. Don’t you? Don’t you?

Glassy-eyed, I came to, sipped my house white and nodded as brightly as I could. At last, I could take no more, and finally said quietly: “I bet you think this song is about you. Don’t you? Don’t you?”

Speaking of naked…

But, like Ninja warriors, it takes years of training and practice to learn how to humiliate others with grace and aplomb. It helps a lot if you have a natural mean streak, or a talent for quick hurtfulness under pressure.