I grew up with a set of dates that are so important I knew them as perfectly as my home phone number. July 16, November 5, December 2, December 25, December 26, and December 29. Unlike Easter or Labour Day these dates remained constant and the countdown was as exciting Read more…
I have a three syllable name. It is not uncommon for people to immediately want to truncate it. The other day a man I’ve met a handful of times called me Kim in greeting, it was warm and friendly and harbored no ill will. I don’t remember what automatic acknowledgement Read more…
If Tammy thought about it logically she could figure out exactly what film it was. It was definitely a comedy, something light. She could tell by the way her mom bounced when she walked. It had cheered her up. She even felt like cooking so that was an even better Read more…
Well hello again. And Happy Persian New Year. I finally visited Cafe Nadery, a Persian cafe on the borders of NYU. It’s been on my list since arriving in the city and finding it featured in The New Yorker‘s Table For Two. I never made a plan to go because I assumed it Read more…
Aunt Gee is rare form today. Alzheimer’s is a no-win son-of-a-bitch disease. Most of the time she thinks I’m my dead brother which turns the visit into an emotional mine field for all concerned. Even the day nurse cringes visibly at our stilted exchanges. But the real challenge is when she recognizes Read more…
My therapist said I had to make better choices. I chose to fire her. And I chose to go back to gluten. I wasn’t depressed because of gluten, I was depressed because I was heartbroken. Because I was heartbroken I ate too many bad pastries. I like sugar. Sugar makes me Read more…
“What do you think of the shirt?” “It’s a nice shirt. What jacket are you wearing with it?” “I’m not wearing a jacket.” “It’s a big deal party Guy, you gotta wear a jacket.” “We’re musicians. We don’t have to do jackets.” “Are you already high? We’re not rock stars. Read more…
It started as a joke, like all great traditions. Kenny gave me the pet rock the summer of my twelfth birthday. It’s not a real trademarked one like Shauna Brayer had. It’s better. Kenny made it himself from a rock he found at his parents’ cottage. The googly eyes came Read more…