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This is what I know A good memory Post coffee Pre wine A few years ago a friend of mine screamed up at the heavens in a very crazy bitter unhappy voice: I NEED MY FUCKING LIFE TO CHANGE NOW, RIGHT FUCKING NOW, THIS FUCKING...
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Nothing like waking up to a private message from some guy you never met, never had a one night stand with, and whose profile picture is a cartoon version of himself. He felt the need to tell me IN ALL CAPS that I was a...
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Like many people I know, I woke up that Wednesday morning, the day after the election, shocked and unnerved. I was supposed to have awakened elated – finally, a woman president! And hooray — we were joyfully continuing that long march begun a century ago,...
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Will you name me, before I can name myself? Will you see my skin and name me a color, as if that defined me, as if pigment is a thing at all? Will you see my sex, my breasts that swell with milk, and desire,...
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This is what I know this morning Post coffee Pre wine Nothing like waking up to a private message from some guy you never met, never had a one-night stand with, and whose profile picture is a cartoon version. He felt the need to tell...
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When I was in graduate school, I had, what I have come to believe, a holy experience — I heard God. OK, maybe not God, and not even God’s actual voice. Maybe I just heard the word of God, spoken so clearly, so sparely and...
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UC Davis community ecologist Rachel Vannette has discovered why pollinators continue to forage on “toxic” or bitter-tasting nectar, despite what should be a deterrent. In newly published research in the journal Ecology, Vannette noted that floral nectar is produced by many plants to reward pollinators, but...
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Part I 06 September 2010 My brother is dying. As I write this, he is laying quietly, oxygen mask covering most of his face, sedated beyond recognition. He’s been like this for days. Every so often, his breathing becomes labored and he becomes agitated. Great...
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It’s a pretty typical night in my home. My kids are having a play date with a couple of their friends. Happy shrieks are erupting from their room. Their dad is perched on a bar stool at the kitchen counter, chatting with my husband and...
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