– I’ve been to London a good number of times. We usually go at least once a year, sometimes twice, and the total number of trips Rand and I have taken there are numbering close to a dozen. I’m started convincing myself that I’ve seen all the city has to offer. I’ve been to tons…
– Years ago, my friend Rachel was telling me a story about her then-boyfriend (and now husband) Adam. I can’t quite remember what it was about, but she paused halfway through and said, “Do you ever have those moments where you look at someone and realize how much you love them? Well, I had one of…
– One of the things I love about any friendship is when you create shared memories together. It pushes you from the realm of merely “people who get along” into the world of “people who have been through some shit together.” It opens up the door to inside jokes and stories that begin with, “Remember…
– The other day I did an excellent job of keeping my mouth shut while a distant in-law explained to me how television was bad for children. The comment had been prompted by my admission that I’d spent the morning watching Yo Gabba Gabba with my nine-month-old nephew.
– To this day, I have fond memories of my English class senior year of high school. Even though it was (ahem) a little while ago, I remember it acutely. Our teacher was a gentleman named Mr. Willems, who remains to this day one of the best instructors I’ve ever had. He was fond of…
– Do you remember the interstitial sketch from Monty Python where John Cleese would say, “And now for something completely different?” That seems like the perfect way to start off today’s post. Because today I am moving away from South Africa to tell you about the few brief days we spent in London. And I…
Dear London, This is just kind of hurtful: – I mean, I realize that Scottish notes are easier to counterfeit and all, but really? You aren’t accepting them at all? What about if some adorable Scottish boy wants to ride public transportation and only has Scottish notes? DO YOU REALIZE THAT YOU ARE DEPRIVING GOOD,…
There’s a gentleman who plays guitar on the banks of the Thames, near the Tate Museum in London.
He leans to kiss me, But stops; sees my red lipstick, And leaves me hanging. – –
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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