At the best of times, January can feel like the bleakest month. The twinkling Christmas lights disappear, grey rules the sky and, after any snowfall, the pristine landscape that seems to mirror the blank slate of the new year turns into a muddy mess. This year, however, things feel even more grim, fraught with anxiety…
The stuffing was pleasantly salty, flecked with celery and onion and rich with the flavor of broth. It was, in short, exactly as I remembered it. I told my grandmother just that, letting her know that I had missed these flavors during our Thanksgivings apart. Never mind that I could have made her stuffing myself;…
A little more than a month ago, on Pi(e) Day, my baby brother got married on the South Side in Pittsburgh in a gorgeous, renovated train station (in southwestern Pennsylvania, this has become a real industry; although I'm certainly not complaining, I will say that I suppose this is one way of dealing with America's…
You could say that January came in like a lamb and is going out like a lion. The beginning of the new year is always full of promise, but goals and resolutions don't always progress as swimmingly as one might hope. Put another way, I suppose what I'm continually surprised to discover is that it's…
I felt my heart surge. I thought: I've lived this long. Please. A little longer won't kill me. I wanted to say her name aloud, it would have given me joy to call, because I knew in some small way it was my love that named her. And yet. I couldn't speak. I was afraid…
Looking at the gloomy sky this morning and the rooftops slickened by rain, it's strange to think that, less than a week ago, the weather was sunny and bright and we were on our way to Half Moon Bay. Needless to say, it's been a long week--one of those weeks that seems endlessly plodding, like…
Christmas eve is a special night. We go to my Grandparents'. We have dinner. We have yummy yummy cookies we munch on all night. We open gifts. We take pictures. Then we go home. Good night. Sleep tight. Let's hope Santa has a safe flight. - A six-year-old me I was at my mom's this afternoon,…
You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You…
Dining with Dostoevsky 