You know that thing where you decide your family needs a thing and you will stop at nothing to get it? It’s definitely a strong urge, especially this time of year. No, I didn’t bite anyone. I can’t believe you would ask that. (I can totally understand your asking that.) Well, this weekend I decided […]
My beloved grandfather was a Scotsman. According to my (Hungarian) grandmother, that was why he was so stingy–ahem, frugal. He believed that it saved electricity if you only opened the refrigerator while it was running, so who knows how many times they skirted food poisoning because my grandmother left the mayo on the counter until
Adventures in Space (Heaters) Read More »
Why no, I didn’t forget I had a blog! How could you think that? *blows dust off posting button* It sure is a time, isn’t it? I think the second decade of this year was the worst. I hope you’re well. I’ve been struggling to work on an installment of my Srivasi serial story Curiosity
(So apparently I wrote this back in May, all the way through adding a meme, and then never posted? screw that. No writing is ever wasted. Also, it saves me finishing a post today. –KD, 10/24/20 ) And it’s the last week at home, but I don’t want to think about that. Yeah, I’ve really
Staying Home, Week 6 Read More »
Yesterday the kid and I were supposed to take a road trip to a state park we’ve never visited, just to have a look and hopefully a swim (with every intention of staying in the car if it wasn’t possible to keep a safe distance from people) but she woke up too anxious to even
Obligatory Pictures of Rocks Read More »
I’ve been thinking about how we’re basically taught in school to hate exercise and sports. And by we, of course, I mean the kids who are already inclined to hate them. I was not fat until I hit middle school, when puberty, depression, and loss of my mom hit me. I loved square dancing in
Physical Education Shouldn’t Make Kids Hate Moving Read More »
For most of my adult life, I lived like that—$20 and half a gallon of gas away from the edge. Sometimes I had a little more margin for error, a few times there was a lot less room to misstep. I’m not ashamed of that. A lot of people live there; I was in very good company. But it’s one thing when you have a variable-hours, minimum-wage job, a disabled husband and a small child. It’s something else when you have a decent job but just can’t figure out how the heck to stop living on that edge. When you have more money and less responsibility (disabled husband having passed on, child having grown beyond the need for paid child care,) you should be able to pull out of debt and make progress, right?