(The othertwo I’ve done in stream-of-consciousness/movie note form; I guess there’s no reason to deviate now).
We all lie to our children. A lot. At some point, remembering all those lies is going to become a challenge. We are going to slip up. And our then adult children will remember those lies as the only truth they know/knew. That will undoubtedly prove awkward. Continue reading →
In a lot of ways, I am not a guy’s guy. I don’t watch football. I don’t golf. I don’t enjoy grilling. I don’t ask for power tools for Christmas. I prefer novels to newspapers, subtitles to explosions, chocolate to just about anything else, and I am more sensitive than most of the women I know. But the one area where my guyness truly shines is in my affinity for mixed martial arts. Continue reading →
If you were to sit down and design a memoir from scratch, calculated for me to love, it would probably look an awful lot like Caged by Cameron Conaway. A cagefighting poet, an MMA fighter with an MFA in creative writing, in essence, he had me at “hello.” Proceed accordingly. Continue reading →