Sometimes I like to test to see if I’ve developed telekinesis yet (because it’s only a matter of time) by chanting Pixies, Pixies, Pixies in my head while pressing shuffle on Evangeline (my iPod). Usually,…
Date Archives January 2009
Some really boring things you probably won’t care about
My weekend was consumed by three things: redesigning MN Reads, Rock & Roll Bookclub, and reading. It was all the things I love most in the world combined into one weekend, well except for the…
This is why I try to avoid making predictions
It was the spring of 1994. I’m pretty sure it was Jan Larson’s Magazine class (I can’t remember if it was editing or writing or just magazines in general). It might have been advanced reporting….
How to succeed in blogging without really trying
I blog a lot. I read blogs all day. I’ve been blogging a long, long time (8.5 years). My actual job title? Blogger. I know that of which I speak. So take this advice to…
A conversation with Liam who is not quite 4
“Here, eat this marshmallow.” He plucked a tiny one from his s’more granola bar. “No, s’mores are grody,” I said. “S’mores are not grody.” “Yes they are.” “THEY ARE NOT GRODY!” “Yes.” “Hey,” he said,…
Some things that will not be in list form, because I am so sick of reading lists it makes me want to barf
. . . some days I wish I was a girl named Lyric who really loved the Cubs. . . . I am so in love with The Free Dictionary despite how ugly it is…
Mama, mama we’re all crazy here
After spending 3 hours commuting in the last 17 hours, I’m pretty sure that everyone of us who chooses to live in Minnesota is a little bit off. If October in MN weren’t the most…
On e-mail responses and exclamation points
Whenever I respond to e-mail (which isn’t often, I know), you should know that I am wearing a facial expression that is appropriate to what I’m writing. Like, if I’m excited and happy about the…
The plan, Stan
I have to admit that 2007 2008 [editor’s note: it has been brought to my attention that I have no idea what the hell year it is] might go down as a sort of cultural…
Don’t tell her I told you this, but. . .
Lately, whenever I talk to my mom she ends our conversation by saying, “don’t tell the Internet.” It doesn’t matter what she’s telling me, something about a cousin, her boss, my dad, what she needs…