Every day, we went to The Sands restaurant in town, where she was friendly with the owners Oli and his wife, and we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and I played PacMan. We went to farmer's markets and thrift stores, the vinyl seats of her enormous white car hot on the backs of my legs.
Tim and I are busily chatting on our personal webpage, sharing anecdotes about our coworkers and local elections and recipes. We sustain contact throughout the day, touching base whenever we have a moment. On days when I'm not working, he's my companion, only a few keystrokes away. He comes home late tonight, the first time... Continue Reading →
Packing is interrupted by the discovery -- once again -- of things from my life, or my kids' lives. We've only lived in this location five years, and our belongings are dotted with pieces of history. This vase was given to me when one of my children was born. The doctor who delivered my babies... Continue Reading →
I've got Eine Kleine Nachtmusik playing tonight, as I often do in the evening. My dog Dudley is curled up in the armchair, fast asleep. When the music becomes more energetic, Dudley whines. Some composers, like Rachmaninoff and Chopin, make Dudley throw back his head and howl. Tim thinks he's singing along. I think it's complaint.... Continue Reading →
Yesterday's vote to approve the ACHA lingers like nausea. Two hundred seventeen people voted in favor of a bill that blatantly and viciously hurts people, takes insurance coverage away from the people who need it the most, and will return our country to the days of commonplace medical bankruptcies, homelessness and death caused by conditions that... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 