Originally published on newsworks.org, the online news source for WHYY (NPR) in Philadelphia
The Day Before – Hello. This is The School calling to inform you that, due to the upcoming winter storm warning, school will not be in session tomorrow. Please do not drop your child off at school “accidentally,” on your way to your Pilates class, and then claim later that you never got this call. You know who you are. And so do we. This message will now repeat.
Day One a.m. – What a rare treat to have the little darlings home for a day. I will use this unexpected gift of time and make it a special day. Outside the weather may be frightful, but our day will be quite delightful. Let’s see… First, I’ll make everyone heart-shaped pancakes, then we’ll snuggle up and watch a family movie. Or two movies – after all, we have all day! We can bake cookies later, then maybe a few games of Monopoly. Just some good old-fashioned family time.
Day One p.m. – The school called again with one of those damn robo-calls. Blah, blah, blah winter storm. I mean, when I was a kid we didn’t have “snow days.” And that was before global warming, when we used to have real snow. Hubbie was telling the kids the story of how he used to deliver newspapers on his bike in snowstorms worse than this. Then he got all pissy because they walked out of the room during the part where he had to dig in the snow when he dropped his dime tip from Mrs. Gianetti. Continue reading
For Labor Day Weekend: A short-short story just for fun…
A lone leaf drifted lazily into the small kidney-shaped swimming pool in the backyard of my dear friend Muffy. An orange leaf. The three of use, Muffy, Buffy, and myself peered up with trepidation at the large elm tree that shades the deep end of the pool.
“Is that what I think it is?” asked Muffy, with a pained sigh.
Buffy lowered her huge, protective sunglasses and tilted up her enormous hemp sun hat to further assess the situation. She sighed as well. “Yes, I’m afraid summer is almost over. Before you know it the Neiman Marcus holiday catalog will be here.”
“Are you still getting that?” asked Muffy. She sounded a bit smug and sanctimonious, and I knew what was coming next. “I e-mailed all my stores and asked them to not send me any more catalogs. Do you know how many trees it takes to make one Neiman Marcus holiday catalog? More like a forest!”
I couldn’t see behind Buffy’s sunglasses but I knew she was rolling her eyes. Continue reading
There is something that compels me each year at this time to buy the fall fashion issue of Vogue. Why I have this compulsion is a true mystery, as I spend sixty percent of my life in generic beige twill pants and a black Gap t-shirt, and the other forty percent in my pajamas – one of the perks of being a writer and working at home. That being said, I also don’t want to show up at an event this fall and find out that shoulder pads are back. Or maybe I do.
There is some bad news on the fashion front, my friends. First of all, big purses are still in, only now they are even bigger. Some look like they could hold a Volkswagen bug or a baby elephant. And all that fringe! I personally have never liked fringe on anything, and I suggest that unless you want to look like a leftover flower child of the sixties, you, dear reader, avoid it.
It seems that every fall the flower child look is re-marketed in a way that will make it more appealing to women. This year you will see the words “bohemian,” “eclectic,” and “global ethnic” used to describe the layers of mismatched patterned fabrics that somehow mistakenly found themselves together on one unfortunate body. Although these outfits might be appropriate if you are thinking of joining a Ukrainian circus troupe or a caravan of traveling gypsies. Continue reading
(Originally one of my columns from The Beach reporter, but still could apply today!)
Perhaps you have heard about the killer bees that are moving toward Los Angeles. They are now in the Mexican state of Sonora, and will be in Tucson next year. Then they head to San Diego, and you guessed it – Disneyland.
Honest, I’m not making this up. They only travel about 300 miles a year, so we have a few years before they arrive in L. A., but already emergency plans are being made, hot lines assembled, and schoolchildren being educated about not poking around in hives.
It’s not enough to worry about earthquakes, global warming, polluted oceans, razor blades in Halloween apples, radon seeping through your floors, and lead in your pipes. I’m already afraid to let my kids go anywhere without me for the rest of their lives.
Now this. Killer bees. How did they choose L. A., anyway? I’ve never seen a beehive in a palm tree. Continue reading