Fetal Positions III

The day started out as usual, the baby calling to me from his crib, swaying and babbling like a drunkard, falling over and then climbing u...

I'm sure it's just jealousy. Most things are. I've come to resent the book cover photos of the poet that looks out at you,...

Today the New Englanders are reading. They could never get through all the books on their list! They keep lists, they are afraid, long and...

Today the New Englanders are making art. Pottery in glazes the colors of sunsets, iron work in such detail it puts snowflakes to shame, th...

Today the New Englanders are drinking coffee. Medium roast. It should be roasted locally even if it originally comes from far away – exoti...

When we lived in Monterey, it was hard to find places to go on vacation. Let's face it. The Peninsula and the Big Sur coast are some o...

“So in terms of toilets,” my husband says to me after I descend the stairs having just tucked Isaac in and finished off Mrs. Frisby and ...

The final triop is dead. We starved it, I think. Unintentionally, of course. Isaac's cousin gave him one of the Smithsonian sc...

In some places it's said you ask for so much as directions you're likely to get an earful – stories about what used to be on the c...

Today, the New Englanders are gardening. Look at those tomatoes! What a cucumber harvest! The bounty is almost embarrassing. Thank goodn...