The pitiless limit to the hours in the day, & shameless self-promotion.

Why look! It's me!

I have a post that I’m working on, a follow-up of sorts to my Lara Logan post, but it’s not ready yet, and frankly, I am dazed and confused and exhausted from a sudden – whoosh! – onslaught of work that came right at the same time as –whoosh! – a sudden onslaught of rage about rape and then – whoosh! – a sudden onslaught of lovely response to the post that my rage produced! And I got a flat tire.

So I’ve decided to take advantage of the rush of new eyeballs to my end of the Internetsylvania Super Information Highway of Dreams, and offer up a small handful of older, far more light-hearted posts for your enjoyment. Please: Read, enjoy, comment, and come back now and then! (Or at least tomorrow, when I hope to have that follow-up up!)


You know how there’s genuinely annoying stuff that you kind of don’t really notice? And then there’s pretty mild stuff that you actually actively hate? And probably shouldn’t?

Oy, don’t get me started.

Oh, ok, I’ll get started:

– People who say “ATM machine” and/or its direct corollary: “PIN number” – So ok, I’m not a monster. I don’t hate those people. But I fucking hate what they say! People, people: You don’t need to tack the noun on — it’s right there in the acronym! Right there and handy! All bundled up, for the ease of your elocution! Lesser hate: The use of the word “social” in place of the apparently-far-too-long-for-mere-mortals-to-get-their-mouths-around “social security number.” To read the rest of this sorry list of shit I really should let go of, click here.


I may have mentioned that I am bereft of work. You know, a time or two. Ahem.

This is not, however, a post about that! No, it’s a post about resumes, or rather: the things I can’t put on mine, now that I’m thinking about it so much.

Like most people, I have skills — not to say skillz — that are finely honed, often unparalleled, and frequently dead handy. But useless on a resume.


I can collate a messy pile of papers faster than just about anyone you might meet. To learn more about my rockin’ skillz, click here.


Lately the husband and I find ourselves sharing deeply personal cultural artifacts with the boy and the girl.

The girl and I are working our way through the Betsy-Tacy-Tib books, having not long ago completed the Little House series, and even more recently, the Winnie the Pooh books. In each case, it’s been a joy and privilege to share these pieces of my heart and soul, and in each case, I’ve been stunned by the quality of the work. Of course, it was always quality, but one hears things differently when one is an adult — one gets to see, I suppose, just how genius is The Man/Woman Behind The Curtain.

…Here’s the thing though: Not everything that carries a place in one’s heart is of equal value. Not everything that we might want to share is worthy of it. By this, of course, I mean: John Denver. To find out just how much John Denver sucks, click here.


I recently mentioned that I often don’t enjoy the publications geared to my demographic.

Which is what? You may ask.

I think that, in terms of advertising, my demographic is probably this (though I’m sure an advertising professional would put the following in a different order):

  1. Upper middle class
  2. Highly educated
  3. 45 years old
  4. Female
  5. Married mother of two
  6. White
  7. Suburban

The cover lines just write themselves, don’t they?

Here are some of the things that More thinks will interest me: “Get Sharon Stone’s Body”; “Shirtless Stars We Love”; “MORE talks with Jennifer Aniston’s Trainer”; “How Not to Act Old at the Beach.”

…Oh.My.GOD. So much do not want. To find out what else is wrong in the magazine publishing world (not to mention where that asterisk leads!), click here.

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