Comic Books and Thanksgiving at the Hi-Way Diner

After four or five generations of togetherness, the “Family Thanksgiving” finally exploded a few years back. Nothing horrible ever happened. It was more of an old woman who lived in a shoe arrangement. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins’ spouses/significant others/crypto-others and their children. And if you’re doing math, that’s roughly two busloads full of people

Me, Too: The Thing About Thinking

Does the world really need another “Me Too” post? At this point, I want to believe the ball is rolling, and that things will get better. I mean… if Hollywood looks like it’s about to clean house… Well, I think we all knew Hollywood’s a cess pool. But somewhere along the line, I ran into

Cemeteries and Science

Somewhere, in the Great American Prairie, on land that belonged to a town that no longer exists, you will find a small cemetery. Be sure you close the gates. You don’t want to chase the cows out, and the volunteer who mows doesn’t want to clean up after them. Now and then, a new grave

The Answer is Tourism. Always Tourism.

I live in a historic town. You can tell by the road signs and billboards, and by the fact that here and there, you have a building that is more than a hundred fifty years old. It’s not a particularly exciting history. And honestly, it’s not that much different than the history that the other

Choosing Trust

A while back, I wound up trapped in a conversation with one of those I’m Telling You This For Your Own Good people. The topic was critique groups, and the woman was basically a stranger. I know you’re bracing for a horror story. So, here it is. Someone she knew stole her title. I won’t

Greetings From the Land of the Two-Headed Calf

So, on the way home from Colorado, I wandered into the schlock shop of my youth to see an old friend. (Well, okay… I wanted to check for seams, now that I’m an adult.) ‘Imagine my shock, when I found him under glass! I remember him standing proud on a ledge overlooking the jackalope skins

A-to-Z Challenge: General Motors

The last car my grandfather ever bought my grandmother was made by General Motors. I remember this because the seat belts–which I was required to wear to protect the windshield from my head–were imprinted with the letters GM. I can’t remember the specific model, but it was a deep maroon with red fabric upholstery. Not-quite

Maybe That’s Where Trappist Monks Come From

Tomorrow marks the beginning of Lent. I had to look that up. Not being from a liturgical background myself, Lent comes and Lent goes, and mostly what it means to me is yummy fish tacos and 40 days of my Lent-ing friends being in vile moods ranging from I gave up sugar to I gave

Other Peoples’ Hobbies and Me

I can kill a plant just by looking at it. My grandmother–the amateur botanist–spent most of my childhood reassuring me that I was not cursed, and sending me home with various clippings to start plants of my own. In my time, I’ve killed day blooming cactuses and night-blooming cactuses and African Violets (which, admittedly, had

Booksellers, Men, and the Cabinet of Sin

We sold pornography at the bookstore where I worked. Not a lot of it, and nothing that would compete with Jugs, Jugs, Jugs down at the local Kum&Go. Sex-positive, consent-positive, feminist, GLBT, fetish stuff. Non-violent. It lived in a cabinet behind the counter, and if you didn’t know it was there… well, you wouldn’t know.

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