House of Mirrors

House of Mirrors

House of Mirrors: Al Franken resigns. Roy Moore gets $$ from the RNC. House of Horrors, I: You're sitting on a plane and the guy in the seat next to you--he has what looks like a dead, stuffed chipmunk on his head, or is that his hair?--tries to put his hand up your...

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Time for a Deep Breath?

Time for a Deep Breath?

Hands up skirts, on thighs, brushing bottoms. Off-color comments, propositions, power. Roy Moore? Sure. But Charlie Rose?! Et tu, Brute? The tsunami unleashed by Harvey Weinstein’s fall from grace, the finally-making-public of distasteful truths everyone acknowledged...

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Thanksgiving Crossings

Thanksgiving Crossings

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, in Uppsala, Sweden, a beautiful lop-eared rabbit named Stella died. I didn’t know Stella, or her humans. I follow them on Instagram. Stella’s death was unexpected, as rabbits’ passings through the veil so often are. It brought back the...

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Served Up

Served Up

This week: Granada, one of my favorite places to eat and drink. Berenjena frita—fried eggplant, thin slices both tender and crispy, drizzled in molasses. Cogollos a la cordobesa—hearts of romaine tossed with crunchy little bits of fried garlic and the olive oil they...

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In Praise of Airport Hotels

In Praise of Airport Hotels

This post was meant to be about Roy Moore and Kevin Spacey and young girls and young boys (and lest we focus on our own sorry age as the nadir point of such abuses, I’ll just remark that a sub-genre of medieval Arabic poetry waxed lyrical comparing the merits of the...

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Visitation

Visitation

I saw the little brown rabbit today. Returning from the mailbox—nothing: a no-mail day is a good day—heading back to refill the bird feeder. Up a slight rise, over a little knoll, and there he was, by the deck. Rabbits usually like hovering about the edges of...

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#metoo: Early Starters

#metoo: Early Starters

So this week it was more Bill O’Reilly, paying hush-money to the tune of 32 million dollars (what in God’s name did he do? oh, right, sorry, he's mad at God...), and Mark Halperin wanting women who were not his wife to sit on his lap. Slightly more heartening was the...

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Lost Novel, Part One: #metoo

Lost Novel, Part One: #metoo

This was supposed to be my first post in the Lost Novel thread. The one where I tell all three of my readers why they should be interested in my attempts to reconstruct Ophelia Drowned, last seen hanging around on a floppy disk going on twenty years ago, now lost...

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How I Became a Crazy Rabbit Lady, Part One

How I Became a Crazy Rabbit Lady, Part One

Bunnies rarely live as long as a dog or a cat. They can be delicate creatures—a rabbit, for instance, cannot breathe through its mouth, so a respiratory infection can be deadly. Those who adopt bunnies will have their hearts broken, on average, every five or six...

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Go to Scotland and Eat, Part Two

Go to Scotland and Eat, Part Two

Sept. 3 So, last night was the Tower. Which is a restaurant on the 5th (top) floor of the National Museum of Scotland, a shortish walk from our hotel through Edinburgh's flat cobblestone streets, between rows of grey stone buildings with touches of Neoclassicism...

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Go to Scotland and Eat, Part One

Go to Scotland and Eat, Part One

Sept. 1 Suffering from acute jet-lag, I park myself at one of the few empty tables at Costa coffee in Heathrow, T5 (three hours to kill before my flight to Edinburgh; I choose to kill them with coffee). Very dry cappuccino, extra shot, only foam and cinnamon--they did...

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