Writing the good read
I saw the movie Babies today. It’s a lovely film that looks at the first year or so of life of four babies, one born in Mongolia, one in Namibia, one in Japan, and one in San Francisco. That movie taught me a few things. Some may seem obvious, particularly to someone who has been…
Some days, I don’t know how to be a good parent. I have a nearly 13-year-old boy, on the verge of puberty, who already has surges of testosterone that make him difficult and mouthy and mean in a way that my sweet boy of yore never was before. And this boy is autistic. He has…
I like good writing. When I called this blog, Eat, Read and Be Harried, I figured I’d be writing mostly about books. When I think of the boxes into which I can put myself, reader is way up near the top of the list, somewhere after the mom box and before the baseball fan box….
Jamie Moyer, the 47-year old starting pitcher for the Philadelphia Phillies, has long been a favorite player of mine. He’s a gentleman, a philanthropist, and an active parent in the lives of his seven children. In his many years with the Seattle Mariners, I never saw him lose his cool. He was respected by umpires,…
Much as I would like my faithful readers — what are there, five of you now? — to stick with my words and only my words, I have to admit that there are some other great blogs out there. Today, day 10 of the Third Annual Wordcount Blogathon, all of the participants are recommending some…
I know there are moms who’d rather die than spend Mother’s Day at a ball park, but I’ve been a baseball girl since — well probably before I was born. I wrote a little about it once for Seattle Metropolitan magazine, although that piece is more about my dad’s love of the game than mine….
I think, therefore I am, said Descartes I think, am I? The thoughts of others can be defining: She loves, therefore she is Mommy She is with me, therefore she is Wife She eats, therefore she is fat; her chrome doesn’t shine, therefore she is lazy; she won’t buy a lamp, therefore she is obstinate…
Once upon a time, back in the old country, there was a woman named Leah. She was the Rebbetzin — the Rabbi’s wife.She was the envy of the other women in the village: she had a girl who came in every day to help; real silver candlesticks for Shabbat; she had pretty clothes; her children…
My dog died coming up on four weeks ago. That’s kind of misleading. We put her down. She was something more than 17 years old, a lab mixed with something else, probably pit bull from the shape of her head. She was deaf, increasingly blind, and so stiff from arthritis that it got hard for…
I do a lot of reading. The picture here is me peaking out of the pile of some 80 books that I’ve read in the last 18 months. Actually, I’ve read more than that. Some I’ve filed already (once blogged about, they’re shelved) and others I’ve loaned to friends (who know they have to give…