Recipe Boxes

Something came up today that made me think about recipe boxes. You know those heirloom collections of handwritten recipes on index cards? I didn’t inherit my grandmother’s cooking skills, but I did wind up with her recipe boxes. And I’m fairly sure that at least a few of the recipes go back to my great

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

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

Winter Fun: Snow, Sleds, and Decapitation

It is snowing, again. The kind of white on gray snow that only shows up after everyone’s already sick of the rain.¬† And the sleet. It’s going to be pretty slick, under that top layer of fluff. This would be the time of year when Midwesterners tell their kids about their pioneer ancestors, and all

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

Field Trips to Nowhere

When I was a kid, school field trips were a matter of piling into cars driven by “class mothers” and going… somewhere… There were usually about eighteen kids in my class, and yes, that includes the year that was 5th and 6th grade combined. (Well, we only had three 6th graders!) The thing about “class

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.

Acupuncture, Abortions, and Denver

When I was a kid, I lived in one of those towns. Big enough to have some entertainment, and quite a few restaurants, and isolated enough that as far as it went, there was no driving to a bigger city just for fun. Bowling  alleys, a small summer carnival, and a sadly misshapen swimming pool.

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