I don't often have the pang to go to church. My relationship with religion is rocky, an unrequited-love story that goes back to my adolescence. I stopped trying to get what I needed from church -- big "c" and small -- some years ago, but the impulse to crack open those dark doors still floats... Continue Reading →
Tim and I have an anniversary coming up. It's not one of the big milestones, but as we were calculating the years we've been married and the years we've been together as a couple, we realized we've been together almost 20 years. Okay, so we're four years short of 20 years. But I was hit... Continue Reading →
Tim and I are sick. Typically, we get sick separately, usually with him having symptoms and me following him around with a can of Lysol to ensure he doesn't get me sick. I quarantine him as much as possible, entreating him to cover his damned mouth when he coughs, washing dishes and bedding immediately after... Continue Reading →
Tim takes the bus to work every day. On rare occasions, I drive him to the office, but usually it's on my way someplace else. This morning, we had errands we had to do together, so once those were finished, we stopped at the coffee place across from his office for his usual. It's not... Continue Reading →
My mother was Irish. She had some German mixed in from her mother, but her heritage, her way of being, was pure Irish American. Despite having Russian and Polish lineage from our dad, we were raised in the Irish tradition, which means we were devout Catholics, we heard a lot of quaint sayings, were imbued... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 