I admire my husband's drive. I love how he can go in one direction persistently, and not be pulled off to the things that trace across his intellectual field of vision.
Grab Bag
If it Doesn’t Open, it’s Not Your Door
This is a story I'm not supposed to write until it's happy.
To Make Small
I watched awards season this year with mixed feelings. I'm thrilled that "BlackkKlansman" got the attention and awards it so deserved (though I was bummed it didn't get Oscar Best Picture), and happy, also, that a movie about a capable, powerful woman in the shadows of her husband's success (The Wife) got so many eyeballs... Continue Reading →
Grit
I just finished watching the second season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which I enjoyed very much. It's a pleasing fantasy, entertaining and kicky, a bopping tune with gorgeous sets and costumes in saturated, period-reminiscent colors. It's fun to imagine my mother in those scenes, a woman of the same age as Midge, not yet... Continue Reading →
She was a Free Spirit
My mom's on my mind today. Probably like a lot of people who've lost their parents. Thanksgiving is especially reminiscent of her because it was often her birthday, which is November 25. The smell of onions and celery and pepper sauteing at 8 a.m. brings to mind my mom, in her floor-length purple "dashiki" robe,... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 