Thursday, November 3, 2011
There are certain childhood memories that you take and exaggerate with each re-telling, until one day you genuinely believe that blown-up version you have created is the way it really was. Some—namely, my mother—would argue that is the case with each of my blogs. I assure you it is not.
But I will admit that the events of one particular November day (or maybe it was March) in 1999, when I was 13...
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I came downstairs last Friday to find three diapers and a note waiting for me on the living room chair.
I was at my parents’ house in Maryland for the weekend and my brother, 13-year-old cousin and I had decided to make the two-hour trip to Pennhurst Asylum, an old mental institution turned haunted house. My mom knew the Huggies would be necessary for when we inevitably lost control of our...
Thursday, October 20, 2011
I used to be obsessed with Julia Roberts.
This wasn’t a restraining-order level of obsession and there was no real stalking involved—mainly because I was 13 at the time and could not drive a car—but let’s just say I was intrigued with America’s Sweetheart.
So much so that in the space of two years, I accumulated nearly 30 magazines in which Julia graced the cover, read her biography...
Thursday, October 6, 2011
I used to have a strange fascination with the car wash. It seems weird, but so does my childhood dream of owning a balloon, bike and gun shop, so it’s easier to not ask questions. I just know I really enjoyed going to that car wash next to the snowball stand.
What I remember most is going through in my mom’s Oldsmobile, which, as the name suggests, was quite old. So old, in fact, that water used...