A brief recent history of Hot Firefighter Husband, in cars.

The husband has purchased a 1995 red Jeep Wrangler with skull and crossbone decals and a giant star painted on the hood. Coincidentally, he also has begun cutting the sleeves off his workout shirts. I’m begging him to get a tattoo. “Maybe I’ll get some barbed wire tattooed around my bicep,” he said. I shivered. “You complete me,” I murmured. Last month, we celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary. This month, we celebrate 28 years of being together. I use theRead more

Annual Vacation Odyssey! and a Rocky Mountain High

I’ve missed you. I hope you’ve missed me. Would you believe me if I said I spend a percentage of each waking hour wishing my fingers were tapping on a keyboard? Probably not. But it’s the truth. When I say this to Hot Firefighter Husband, he says, Then write! Just write! Do it! and I think, I will! I will write today! Then the oldest child calls from the school nurse’s office because her toe is bleeding and the youngest childRead more

Vacation Chronicles 2015, the prologue. Make some popcorn.

Guess what! We’re in Maine! The annual Vacation Odyssey has begun. But first: I owe you a confirmation that we have indeed added a third canine to the family. In my head right now I’m shouting the Tyrant’s favorite refrain: I’m sorry! It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t do anything wrong! although I’m only a teeny bit sorry, and it was totally my fault, and I guess I did something wrong. Here’s how it went down. Well. You know how I am.Read more

In which Husband convinces me to care about the Superbowl

I’ve started interspersing my CrossFit workouts with yoga, so I’ll not only be prepared for the zombie apocalypse, I’ll also be very relaxed and introspective about it. In class yesterday, I was in half-pigeon pose, which everyone else slumped comfortably into, directing their drishti (GAZE in yoganics) forward, toward their purposeful selves, finding clarity and balance in their spirits. I had my eyes closed, which is against the rules, and my drishti was set on New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady, becauseRead more

A new CrossFit gym, fallen heroes, and working out for a reason

Did I mention we’ve joined a new CrossFit gym? It’s called the Black Hive, so now I’m a member of the Hive. #badassish Hot Firefighter Husband and I are the oldest people working out there by about a hundred years, which is sort of awesome because people look at us like DA-AMN, I hope I’m like that when I’m old. Which we are not. But you know how silly those young hipsters can be. Also, there’s some sort of unwritten rule at theRead more

I’M FATIGUED! And some vague allusions to sex. And What I’m Reading.

I haven’t written  a word in 12 days. Except for my name, on checks. Which doesn’t count. On the bright side, I’m not freaking and tweaking and gnashing my teeth about it, which is characteristic of the old me. The new me is all, Well, sister, let’s not dwell on the past. Just sit down and type out a fucking word already. And here I am doing it! I’m not promising the old me won’t occasionally rear her messy head, butRead more

An improbable love story, in short little chapters.

I Beer made us do it. We were just friends. I had never thought of him in any other way. We went on long bike rides, and sometimes hung out on weekends. We worked well together. One day the weekly softball game got rained out, and we ended up drinking at a dive bar with sticky floors and dimmed lights. By the time the weather cleared up, going skinny-dipping at Hathaway’s Pond seemed like a great idea. And when theRead more

Men and boys and artifacts

Hot Firefighter Husband had hippie tendencies long before I did. Right after college, he was the New Hampshire coordinator for George McGovern’s presidential campaign, and once drove with McGovern and Jesse Jackson through the White Mountains in his beat-up old VW. He says Jesse Jackson is a terrible driver. He worked for the campaign while he waited for his Peace Corps assignment to come through, and when it did, he flew to to the Demcratic Republic of Congo, then knownRead more

CAUTION: explosions ahead. And ASSHOLES.

The children found this great new app for my iPhone. They took a short video of me, zapped it with the app, and made my head explode. SWEET! It’s not weird at all that my adorable 6-year-old thinks it’s SO HIGH-LARIOUS to blow off her own mother’s head – because she also tells me that I’m the “best toast-cooker” she’s ever seen IN HER WHOLE LIFE. When she learns that the toaster actually does most of the work, she’s goingRead more

Target, Target, get out of my head.

Whew, boy, what a Friday afternoon we had. The Diva went for a playdate at a waterfront mansion and was all, Why can’t we live here? They are so lucky! I love mansions. Is this a mansion? and I was all, They have a septic tank, honey, so they have to drive past a mound of their own crap every day. HaHaHaHaHa!  While she was off pretending she was rich, Hot Firefighter Husband and I spent an hour convincing theRead more