Life As a Pearl

It's like this, readers: I have a dirty little preference that, if admitted in certain circles, nets me some real flack. Given the choice between a book and a kindle app, I'm Team Kindle. Yikes. I feel like I've already lost you. Except for that thing where you're actually reading my  words on some hideous electronic device. So I guess your opposition is contained—sure it's fine to read  on a device. Just not read a lot. Unless it's a lot of Facebook status updates or comments on MSN articles or Buzzfeed lists. Then it's fine. But not books, OK? Books don't belong on devices! Yeah, this is one of those topics that people are weirdly passionate about. So today, Kylee and I (who are mercifully on opposite sides of this debate) have decided to fight it out. Because I'm gracious, and because this is my blog and I can do what I want, I'm going to let Kylee have the first word. But then I'm going to trounce her because she's wrong. KYLEE:...

Setup: Two friends walk into a bar. Actually, they don't have time to go to the bar because they have kids. Two friends text each other, in reality; but stories don't start that way. So...two friends. Bar. It's 100% believable that they're in a bar because they're both writers. Maybe you didn't read my blog post about writers awhile back, but spoiler alert: writers are drinkers. I even have a signature drink. It's the Dark & Stormy and it suits my temperament perfectly. Two friends. Writers. Dark & Stormys.  "I have nothing," the one says. "Literally nothing to write about." The other takes a drink of her Dark & Stormy and tries not to make a face. Why does her signature drink have to taste of anise? "Want to co-author or or guest-author a blog post?" "That sounds nice." Blah blah details blah.  In the end, two friends decide to share this blog post to talk about a day of the year th...

Here's something that's a little cute and a little unfair, all at the same time: every Sunday Eric and Ayana go out for donuts (cute), but they leave me at home because I can't eat donuts (a little unfair). I'm happy they have their little date, sad that I'm necessarily excluded, and exhausted by the sugar-high monster Eric hands off with an I- have -to-study shrug. Excluding the donut date, Sundays are usually a mother-daughter day in our house. Eric really does  have to study, and I usually like the throwback sensation of single motherhood. I know wasn't a dream lifestyle, but for a day? I'm just saying it's not hard to dredge up the fond memories.  Sometimes Ayana still lets me slip her into her sling for old time's sake. That's 38 lbs and 43 inches of kid on my shoulder, and man it feels good. OK. It feels heavy. But it's the kind of burden a mama's body never forgets how to bear. Anyway, there's a story in here and I...

You and me, reader—we're buds, right? I mean, I can tell you something—something about me—and you'll promise not to hold it against me, won't you? I'll warn you: it's not flattering. It's not really the kind of thing people want to go writing about themselves and posting all over the interwebs. But I'm not people and this isn't the interwebs (just go ahead and ignore the part where neither of those things is true): I'm a writer and this is my blog. Telling you shit about myself is just part of the gig. That's enough disclaimer for all of us, right? Good. Here goes. I am a writer . Wait. I already said that like two lines ago. I am a writer? That's it? That's my big, unflattering reveal?  Is this like one of those job interviews where they ask you what your weakness is any you say, "I'm just too goal-oriented," or "I'm a deadline fanatic." I mean, the word fanatic is a little off-putting, but you're ...

We have a pretty sweet New Year's tradition in the McSmadon-BronSterner family (that's a surprisingly awesome mashup of the last names of my buddies). I'm not going to bother to explain it, because traditions are always boring to the outside world—a pretentious inside joke that really shouldn't be inside at all because traditions are available to everyone. Especially the tradition of the new year's resolution, which is essentially what we do. So even though the McSmadon-BronSterner family does our resolutions different, you'll never have to be bored by the specifics of it. All you need to know is that this year, I ended up with courage as my directive.  There's a whole lot involved in that word, and I'm not usually good with lots. I'm better with a key phrase I can lock on to. Because that one word came with a rather garrulous analogy about a wildflower, I was able to find the key phrase I needed to guide me through the year:  Surrounded by ...

It’s October 31st. Let’s say the year is 1992 (because I’m not trying to be factually accurate, just set a scene). There are apples bobbing in bathtubs, pumpkins glowing on stoops, leaves crunching under boots and bike tires, and pillowcases, divested of their typical stuffing, waiting to be glutted with candy bars. I’m sure you were all there, bit parts or lead roles in the Halloween scene that played out across every neighborhood in America two decades ago. Maybe you were Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Or Egon from Ghostbusters. If your mom was less creative or your family hard up for cash, you might have been just a garden variety vampire or cowboy or scarecrow.  It didn’t matter though, did it? Everyone got the same amount of attention and candy, because that’s what Halloween was all about. It was about kids. It was about spooky decorations and drinking cider and carving pumpkins and eating more candy than you actually wanted, just because you could. I’m guessing,...

And by ladies, of course, I mean the wives and girlfriends of professional football players, who are enjoying watching their men beat other men for a change. OK. That was a cheap shot. Even though abusive footballs players have been dominating the news lately, they probably don't dominate the field. I think we all hope the majority of NFL players treat their partners with dignity and respect, and exert their physical dominance only on their professional opponents. We hope. But what do we really know  about intimate partner abuse? Did we know this? "The more than 11,766 corpses from domestic-violence homicides between 9/11 and 2012 exceed the number of deaths of victims on that day and all American soldiers killed in the 'war on terror.'" Rebecca Solnit That's just in America. That's just men killing women. And that's just women with whom men have had an intimate relationship. Please don't even get me started on what goes on off our h...