In 1997 I was not the only woman in the room but I was definitely outnumbered. However, 1997 was a grand improvement over 1992 and I was starting to feel better about it. Maybe more comfortable? I definitely thought it... Read more →

I remember those jeans. Gap, circa 1998 and I never found another pair like them. They were retired in 2012, knees ripped out and patched at least twice, faded to almost-white, and definitely threadbare. The shirt is unremarkable if you... Read more →

I cropped the monitor out. There are eight people in a Teams meeting with THEIR CAMERAS ACTUALLY ON. Not to mention the working file on the main screen. That's just not the sort of thing we want to put out... Read more →

It's taken a long time to understand that the root of my, um, the root of the things I find most uncomfortable in my life, is a perceived lack of choice. It's hard to pinpoint when actual lack of choice... Read more →

Somewhere in an attic and/or storage facility that is not mine live three extra-large bins of Lego parts that represent the sum total of my boy's formative years. At one time each piece belonged to a set; some small, some... Read more →

I had 12 hours to kill in 1992 between check-out and the flight from Phoenix to New York. I decided to drive to the Grand Canyon. I stood on Mather's Point and cried. First, I felt insubstantial, insignificant, and lost... Read more →

I dislike generational boxes. Hard stop. I was born in 1964 and entered the public school system in 1969. I had no concept of Vietnam and less of WWII. I don't remember a time before outside the home childcare and... Read more →

It's 2 am and I'm an hour late. I know one of them will be waiting at the top of the stairs and it's crapshoot. My mother will be in the recliner with a book or my father will be... Read more →

It was warm enough to walk yesterday. Warm enough to walk without a hat, if you're me (I have a hood, don't panic). Well above zero and inching toward freezing. No wind to speak of. In other words, a drop... Read more →

Right out the back door I'm looking at a juxtaposition I can't quite reconcile because Phoenix doesn't see that much snow. Ever. The last time it snowed in Phoenix was 1998 and a whopping .22 inches of precipitation was measured.... Read more →