Category Archives: Stories

Me. Yoww.

You may already know how I like to adopt different personae when I travel, just to pass the time and make things funny and interesting. It’s like that Vegas commercial except I never lie and tell someone I’m a brain doctor or anything. I just carry a big bag, wear heels and hot clothes and sunglasses and walk like you should know who I am. I even had some tourists take my photo in Midway airport last fall.

What you may not know, and I know I’m hardly alone in this, that I like to make up names for myself at Starbucks. Not like McLovin’ or Supergirl or anything like that, but real, plausible names. Like Terri. Or Wanda.

So, last week I went to Starbucks and ordered my usual¹ and gave the barrista a made-up name that made me giggle inside.

Then today I ran in to get my mom a latte, and the girl was marking with her Sharpie on the cup and said, “Kitty, right?”

“Uh, riiiight.”

So, guess that’s my new name at the Starbucks.

Happy New Year.

¹Grande Nonfat Peppermint Mocha, one pump Peppermint, two pumps Chocolate, No Whip, No Sprinkles.


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Filed under Funny, Stories, Weirdness

Ah, Crap.

Oh my dog, I am such a sap.

I just ordered the DVD.


Filed under Stories, Uncategorized


Yesterday I spent the afternoon walking to the boys’ school, making soup with Jack’s class, having a conference with Miles’ Language Arts teacher, who wants to move him into his own advanced reading group (I am wary of this, having been my own reading group in sixth grade and feeling alienated and wishing I hadn’t done so well on those stupid tests.), and walking home with Jack, who didn’t feel like staying for afterschool club.

On the way home, the mechanic called to say my car was ready to be picked up. But, you know, I didn’t have a car to get myself there. I had a brilliant idea: Jack and I could ride the bus.

We don’t live in a huge city, and public transportation is still the subject of television promotions to Save Money and Ride! The kids have been fascinated with the bus for a couple years now, but we’ve never ridden. I decided that this was the time.

Never has a child had so much fun. He also figured out how to read the map, deciphering the little arrows and different colored routes. He also is young enough to ride for free.

And of course it took longer to reach our destination, and it doesn’t go exactly where I need to go, and I live in a neighborhood which has most of the services I need within walking distance anyway, but after shelling out $650.00 on car repairs, I’m hanging onto this bus schedule.

And my kid can tell me which line to take.

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Filed under Cars, Kids, Stories


Right, so remember how I hate the drama? Here is my letter to my brother telling him I’m not going to put up with his any more. Because, hello, I’m 35 and I get to say when you do something that is hurtful and offensive. Even if we have the same parents.



I’ve been thinking about our conversation Monday morning and wanted to write and tell you what it’s made me realize. Firstly, I got the distinct impression that you hadn’t talked with your wife before offering to keep the boys on Sunday. I got the distinct impression that she felt put upon, and unable to say anything about it to me. Secondly, I phoned twice on Sunday to check in, and asked that you call me if there were any problems. Not once was any misbehavior mentioned, nor did you care to go “all the way upstairs” to give me the chance to tell the kids goodnight and ask how their day was.

I appreciated your offer to keep the kids all day and night, but I am writing this to tell you that because of these and other things, my children and I will not be going to Park City next month.

I don’t know what you intended to accomplish by locking a child out of the bathroom at night; I do know that when Jack tried to go in the middle of the night and found the door locked, he was scared and confused and upset. Of course he wet himself. Your assertion that he should have gone downstairs was absurd and unreasonable, punishing him (teaching him a lesson?) for something which happened much earlier.

There should absolutely have been consequences for plugging up the sink in the bathroom–for all children involved–consequences which were immediate and relevant. Locking a half-asleep child out of a bathroom when he has to pee is not appropriate, and in my opinion, borders on being cruel. He doesn’t, as you asserted, have the ability to reason–in a semi-sleeping state, in a totally dark, unfamiliar house–that he might try the downstairs bath. These are the kinds of things that kids remember into adulthood, and I hope this particular one doesn’t carry over. Because in his mind it wasn’t a logical consequence, it was scary and mean.

He was upset, embarrassed and humiliated, and I wanted nothing more than to get us and our things out of your and your wife’s way. And yes, I was angry that you’d locked the door. I wanted to clean the mattress, but having no idea where you keep your cleansers, and wanting to avoid waking anyone, I stripped the bed and decided to call once we were on the road and it was a bit later. When your wife told me you’d locked the door I was exceedingly mad. Rather than stay and scrub the mattress I decided it was best for us to just go, so clear was it that she’d had enough.

I realize that we have different parenting styles, but I don’t criticize your choices, and I don’t appreciate you criticizing mine. It comes down, in my mind, to this: You have the right to make whatever rules you want for your house, but you then have the responsibility to supervise a group of kids (it’s different than having just one) and to tell me the truth when i ask if my children are behaving. Following that, phoning the next day to tell me that my children not only “trashed” your house by getting out toys and games that they then had to be asked to put away, but that they have “serious discipline issues and that we need to talk about how things are going to ‘go down’ in Park City” is not cool.

Your comment about how my children might “trash” the condo in Utah sealed my decision to stay home. You are not responsible for my boys. They are not your children. And if they damaged anything, I would have paid the repair or replacement cost. But your attitude of being the one “in charge” is something I’m not willing to abide. Yes, you made the arrangements. Yes, your name is on the lease. But your controlling attitude since last December has sucked the joy out of this vacation. For me, at least. People in this family have been walking on eggshells for fear of upsetting or offending you for a long time. I’m not doing that anymore.

I am sorry if your daughter will be the only kid on this vacation, but I have given this a lot of thought and I am doing what I believe is in the best interests of my children and myself. I hope that this is not a permanent solution, but it is the only one I can live with for the time being.


In sending this, my entire family is up in arms about vacation. Turns out they were all going because I was going and bringing the boys. Apparently nobody wants to be stuck in a condo for five days with Captain Control Freak.

Oh, it’s so awesome to be responsible for everyone else’s happiness. Please. If people could just be nice, these things wouldn’t happen.


Filed under Kids, Stories

Today I met my mother for coffee. It was Starbucks’ coffee, at the SuperTarget in my city, and since I had to go to Target and get the final details for the boys’ costumes, it was basically a “we’re both going to be there, so why not do our shopping together” sort of thing.

I had largely forgiven her for her “I have a question; where exactly do you stand with all the people you are seeing?” infraction from last week. Seriously, WTF? Just to be clear, I was appropriately deferent and basically said, “That’s none of your damn business.” Sheesh.

She didn’t ask any probing questions this morning, and shopping at UberTarget commenced as we sipped our Grande Pumpkin Spice Lattes (two pumps, thanks), and later had Tomato Basil Bisques at some lunch spot, after I’d procured the appropriate skeleton hand gloves for Miles’ Halloween costume.

Several IMs into our lunch, she asked who I was talking with.



And that was that.

But imagine getting an IM from Kelly asking if he could “finger your pussy and your ass simultaneously” when you met on Friday and you’ll understand my predicament.

Cut to the Used Furniture Store 30 minutes later when (without my mom) I answered Kelly’s phone call and stated my great desire to suck his cock, peppered with my descriptions of the huge dresser with the huge mirror which I thought would look spectacular in my bedroom, let alone the amount of free space it would give me, to which he replied, “sounds great, how big is the mirror again?”

It’s being delivered Wednesday.

He’ll be here on Friday.

I sort of can’t wait to prop myself up on pillows so I can watch him do naughty things to me.

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Filed under Dating, Fuckbuddies, Stories


it’s fall today. like, maybe the temperature hit 65 degrees. i had to put on a sweater inside and i had soup for dinner and hot tea, too.

makes me want to knit. unfortunately, i have a mondo deadline and i’m scarily unmotivated.

going to have a busy next two weeks with a little friend i like to call “office suite for mac.”

oh, and funny thing: miles was in the shower last night and when i handed him the towel, he pointed to the corner of the tub, saying, “make sure jack knows that his supplies are there.”

supplies=body wash, shampoo, (my) crushed almond scrub and (my) coconut milk face wash. i’m surprised the dude didn’t come out with a towel turban and cucumber slices over his eyes. seriously, he’s seven.

last week i overheard him explaining to jack the intricacies of shower pouf vs washcloth while they were standing naked in the tub during the switching-of-the-kid.

i can’t believe tomorrow’s effing thursday. shit.


Filed under Kids, Stories, Writing


So I’m at services tonight (wearing all white, thanks) and  gorgeous tall man is sitting a row behind me and four seats over.  Swoonage.

I’m trying hard to focus on things. cos g-d knows I’ve got what to atone for.

We stand for the Al Het, when we enumerate all 44 types of transgressions we may have committed in the past year and I glance over my shoulder.

He winks at me.

Eeeps. I grin and my stomach does little flips.

Then we get to the part of the Al Het where it goes (in the New Machzor) “For the sins we have committed with wanton glances” and I cringe a little bit.

But then I sort of smile to myself.

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Filed under Flirting, Jewish, Stories, Yom Kippur