Looking at life through a funhouse mirror
The suburbs are trying to kill me. To be fair, the feeling is mutual, but they aren’t even being subtle about it. First, a bit of back story. Despite having a well stocked kitchen, I like to walk out around noon a few times a week to pick up some lunch. This accomplishes two goals: …
This is the time of year I usually refer to as “the southbound march of the condiments.” Not this year. I have decided to reconsider my cottage closing tactics. Perhaps forever. Do you know what happens when the bottles and jars that survived the summer arrive in my winter kitchen? Yes, you do. They play …
The hummingbirds are acting like assholes. There are three of them that swoop around chasing each other away from the feeder whenever one of them decides it’s time for a snack. Apparently, this means they are getting ready to start migrating. I’m not sure how well that will turn out, since they seem to be …
As you may know, I am now down to one cat. In case you were not aware (and in my own defense), I only had two. Also in my own defense, there was only one period in my life when I had more than two, which was when I lived with my ex-husband and a …
The Buicks have emerged from their winter slumber. The ones that live under the dock sun themselves with smug entitlement but startle and slip between the boards when I stomp my feet to gain a spider-free walkway to the swim ladder. I am not sure where the fuzzy dinner-plate-sized specimen that hangs out between the …
Contrary to popular belief, May is actually the cruelest month. Even though other months may be implicated, when the ice goes out and it is possible to get to the cottage, it is strictly May’s purview to reveal what winter’s months have wrought. Luckily this year, after the water pump went into the lake, there …
Sometime in mid-winter (or most likely before that), at least one raccoon moved into our attic, as evidenced by scratching noises emanating from the living room and bedroom ceilings. The upper reaches of the living room were the preferred hangout for cocktail hour, while the sector of the attic over the bedroom was typically active …
If someone were to review my dreams, they would probably give them one star at best. Repetitive, they would say. Not much of a discernable plot, they would say. Derivative, they would say. Nothing at all that’s remotely inventive. Here’s why. There’s the one about the final exam I have not studied for, which is …
It is indeed winter, although some days it feels more like March than January. Not that I am complaining. The cats are the ones with full dibs on complaining these days. There are a surprising number of things to complain about when you are a cat (or at least when you are one of my …
When I lived in Cabbagetown (a completely non-suburban place, in fact about as urban as you can get) in a row house with a Victorian exterior and early 1990s interior (which was perfectly fine because it was the early 1990s at the time), the kitchen was a white womb of hard surfaces. The cupboards were …