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Weekend Wanderer: Do I Exist?
I remember how disturbed I felt reading Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. The eponymous characters felt so untethered. With no real idea of why they were in Hamlet’s story, or how they came to be there, the question of their existence shifted the ground beneath my feet. Yeah. I am now Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Oh my…
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Weekend Wanderer: Is That Where the Antlers Go?
If you’ve been with me for a minute or two, you’ll know my husband is quite outdoorsy. And that I am not. I don’t know how, but it works. Maybe because he’s been in the woods for a week and I’ve happily watched Robocop for and all of Presumed Innocent. Robocop is the ’80s version, not the 2014 version. And Presumed Innocent is the 2024 version, not the ’90s version. The ’90s version is better. …
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Weekend Wanderer: I Watched “A Man on the Inside”
“I need you to watch A Man on the Inside,” my best friend texted me. “I feel like it’s Willie.” Now, I take any recommendation she sends me. She did, after all, turn me on to the idea of discarding my pants once I’m home for the day. No, I still haven’t gone entirely pants-free. But I am in leggings and a cuddly shirt by about…
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Weekend Wanderer: I’m Filthy
We agreed we’d talk about showering with a broken arm. Well, we agreed I’d talk, you’d read. Yes, we did. Let’s just get something — as Aaron Sorkin might say — out on the step for the cat to lick up. I shower twice a day. Yes, I know that’s bad for your skin and blah, blah, blah. This is just the way it is. …
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Weekend Wanderer: Two Christmases
Like most of us, I assume, I sometimes snuck into bed with my parents as a kid, after a nightmare or ghost story I couldn’t shake. I also had a tendency to sleepwalk right out the back door. But that’s a different story. I’d curl up, toasty and safe in my parents’ unwitting, dormant embrace. Eventually, Willie would awaken, or Indy would. They’d scoop me up,…
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Weekend Wanderer: The Rules of a Broken Arm
There is so much wisdom to be gained from a broken arm. Refrain from breaking your arm chief among that wisdom. I’m going to impart some of that wisdom to you, a spin on the grandmotherly adage to always wear clean underwear. We’ll take it on a timeline because you really have to get crackin’ if you’re planning on breaking your arm there, my friend. …
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Weekend Wanderer: I’m a Terrible Patient
I was in the doctor’s office, struggling to process the orthopedic surgeon’s declaration. “I need surgery?” I said. “Well, yes,” he said. “Without surgery, that fracture will give you problems for the rest of your life.” I mean, if you’re going to be dramatic about it. “I need surgery!” I texted my husband. “You’re shocked?”…
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Weekend Wanderer: I Watched the Jonas Brothers’ Christmas Movie
So there I was, stuck on the sofa for a few days after surgery to repair that broken arm. Which I have just so much to say about. But that’ll have to wait. Because I want to talk about what I watched while I was compelled to rest. I also want to point out these…
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Weekend Wanderer: Complications of Our Dog’s Illness
Humphrey is a bad, bad boy. And I never should have tempted fate with my jabs at the universe. Humphrey was scheduled for removal on a Thursday. By Monday, he was quite bloody. Humphrey bled everywhere. On the carpet and on the sofa. On Pete’s blankets and on Pete’s pillows. On my bed’s comforter and…
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Weekend Wanderer: Our Dog Has a Weird Growth
So, I flirted with the universe’s algorithm for disaster last week with full knowledge of two things. One, it’s November. And we all know how my last few Decembers have gone. Two, my dog, Pete, has a weird growth flopping from his mouth. A few weeks ago, I was making my bed when I noticed…
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Weekend Wanderer: I Deleted My TBR
Now, I know you often ask yourself, while reading my little column here, how much tragedy can one person experience in a few years’ time? I mean, I would hardly characterize the events of the last few years as tragedies. As such, I’m sure the universe is now planning a calamity to befall me, as…
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Weekend Wanderer: Money Is the Root of All … Friendship?
Willie explains to me — often — how she spends her day. See, Willie hates her apartment. The apartment I picked out for her after her little walk last December. The apartment with the newly installed plush rose carpet. The apartment with the view of the forest. The apartment with the cozy chair I nestled…
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Weekend Wanderer: The Annual Halloween Story
We have an October tradition in this space. Near Halloween, I tell you an eerie story. You get scared. We call it a day. These stories have always been ghostly, possibly demonic. This year, we’ll switch horror genres to the slasher, the home invasion. Home invasion is the most disturbing genre. As much as I’d…
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Weekend Wanderer: I Took the Keys, Part Two
So, we’re on the phone with the Temple of Doom, who assures us nobody is hurt. “Not too badly,” they said. In the eternity before those next words, many, many thoughts raced through my head. Nobody was hurt badly, but somebody was, obviously, hurt. Who? And who caused the injury? What was the injury? Was it…
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Weekend Wanderer: I Took the Keys, Part One
It’s time to tell you why I took Willie’s car keys. Let’s program the DeLorean to take us back a few years. OK. Flux capacitor fluxing … Our visit to the past finds Indy alive, and he and Willie living on the independent living side of the Temple of Doom. Indy stopped driving a year…
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Weekend Wanderer: A Manicure Leads to a Terrible Revelation
No good deed goes unpunished. This is, perhaps, one of the tritest expressions in the English language. But there is a reason some expressions are trite, isn’t there? Their veracity, their specificity, their sagacity, their reproducibility? No good deed goes unpunished. Let me tell you about my good deed. And the vicious punishment it meted…
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Weekend Wanderer: It Is Not, in Fact, Dinnertime
There was a long day this summer in which I functioned as co-pilot while my son drove an hour and a half to his camp in New Jersey. I dropped him off, taking his car to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where my daughter was scuba diving to 45 feet in a quarry filled with buses and planes…
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Weekend Wanderer: A Like Mind in an Odd Place
In one month, my parental caregiving enters its 10th year. Being uncomfortably sandwiched between kids and parents, I’ve been in a doctor’s office once or twice. A month. For a decade. I’ve also dealt with lawyers, Veterans Affairs, care home staff, banks, and likely more people I’m missing but who should not be sorry I’m…
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