I don’t know what’s worse: that I can’t comprehend that it’s the end of February already, that I was recently confused and thought Christmas was right around the corner, or that I started writing the date at the top of this post as February 26, 199 … Actually, it’s probably that last one. Being confused…
On the same day that I caught the bus tour and saw Kelvingrove Museum, I also stopped off at Glasgow University to see the Hunterian Art Gallery and the Mackintosh House. Because, clearly, I don’t know how to pace myself. I generally find it to be a bad idea to hit more than two museums…
If you are fortunate enough to catch the Glasgow City Bus tour without too much damage done to your person or your psyche, I strongly suggest hopping off at stop #16 for the Kelvingrove Art Museum. It’s fantabulous. And absolutely gorgeous.
I was originally going to make this a Dick Move! post, but honestly, if I did that every single time I felt the inclination, that’s all this site would be (and I’m pretty sure I can’t get the domain dickmove.com, and if I did, I would probably get a lot of misdirected traffic). But I…
I’m finally (kind of, sort of) over the Colts’ loss a few weeks ago that I think I can finally talk about the Superbowl. And I promise I’ll make only one catty comment about the Saints. Maybe two. Some of Rand’s colleagues were over from the U.K. and joined us, along with a handful of…
It is stunning in Seattle right now. We’re only here for two more days, counting today, and that makes me a bit sad, because really, it is glorious. We’re off for San Diego next week, and New Orleans after that, with Rand hopping on planes throughout for meetings all over the damn place. He’s important…
I am really, really tired. We got back into town about three hours ago from our Glasgow/London trip, and I am doing my best to fight off sleep – it’s not quite 8 pm on Wednesday, and I can’t really justify going to bed now, even though, as I type this, my eyes will barely…
Oh, shit. I’m not perfect, right? I’ve never pretended otherwise. Next week I’m devoting an entire post to WTF was going on with my hair in Scotland. I can’t even give the semblance of normality for one-tenth of a second. I am a tragically flawed and neurotic person, and I’ve been lucky enough in life…
I figured I couldn’t take the piss out of my brother yesterday without taking a few moments to talk about what it means to be a gracious host. Because yes, opening up your home to someone is a wonderful and generous thing to do, but if you leave them so emotionally scarred that the cost…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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