So I’m going to Ireland. Good for me.  I have decided to drive.  Not to Ireland. Although I prefer that to flying.  Don’t worry. I read Society of the Snow last year. I have my plan of action set, plane crash-wise.  But no. I’m not driving to Ireland. I’m driving in Ireland.  Rick Steves says the Irish attribute 10 percent of all car accidents to right-hand side of the road…

I am standing at the top of the slope, my skis edging out over the plunge.  I’m not, really. I haven’t skied in years, and I have a friend who assures me my quarter-century old skis will identify me to the Helly Hansen set as the infrequent skier I’ve become.  That plunge is the one into empty nesting.…

I thought there would be Wi-Fi.  Look. I’m no stranger to the corners of the planet lacking Wi-Fi. Our family cabin, built by my husband’s grandfather in 1938, famously lacks Wi-Fi.   And I’m glad for it. Weekends at the cabin engendered a technological flexibility in the kids. Their cabin adventures included grilled cheeses and fries at the 1950s-inspired drive-in burger joint, where a tray…

I was not the one to call.   Sure. There are situations in which I am the one to call.  Like the day the beagle rescue called to say a nine-year-old beagle had just been surrendered.  “He’s in quarantine,” they said. “Heartworm, Lyme, and ehrlichiosis. They’re being treated.”  Ehrlichiosis?  “It’s a tick-borne disease. He’s in quarantine until his treatment is done. We think he’s perfect for your family. Would…

It’s spring.  So now, besides worrying about getting trapped in a deep-sea submersible, demonic possession, tumbling into space when my tether to the space shuttle is severed, getting eaten by an alligator, getting eaten by a crocodile, the thing that lives in the closet realizing just how often I sleep alone, and chipping my nail polish…

We’re going to talk about toilets today.  I won’t be graphic. It’s cool to sip your coffee and eat your biscotti.  I remember the day I moved into my apartment. Just me and my cat. Four tiny rooms in a former attic, outfitted with a custom shower and kitchen range because the space was so small.   Five other people lived in…

Let’s just stipulate we’re all addicted to our phones. That society is disintegrating beneath the weight of our screens. That one day, our phones will rise up. Kill us. Decimate humanity like the metal robot dogs in the “Metalhead” episode of Black Mirror.  Now, go ahead and set that aside. I have an iPhone 13. Three weeks ago, I performed a…

My husband and son are binge-watching the late-aughts television show Community.  It’s a nice little bit of bonding between the two of them, critical now that my son leaves for college in four months.  But, um, I want to watch Community.  And I do. Sometimes. When it’s evening and the fellas have gathered around the tube, I plop down with…