Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill, Jon and Me
Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill, Jon and me — contemplating the perils and pleasures of office romance in the era of #metoo. Read more.
Kids Who Cheat. And Those Who Don’t
Kids who cheat and those who don’t: My husband was disturbed by what he saw — some kids playing touch football at the park, cheating. Read more.
The Night I Forgot to Make Dinner — A Rerun From the Archives
I planned a nice candlelit evening for my husband for that night, just as I’d dreamed of doing as a girl. Except I forgot to make the dinner. Read more.
The Feminine Feminist — An Oxymoron?
The feminine feminist — is she a contradiction in terms? Can a woman wear pink to the boardroom? Inch-long fingernails to the track meet? Read more.
I’m Going on a — Homemade — Writer’s Retreat
I’m going on a homemade writer’s retreat. Just me and my laptop. No dental appointments. No lunches with friends. No Facebook. No Instagram. Read more.
It’s Spring and My Garden Looks Dreadful. Here’s Why
My garden looks dreadful. Here’s why. My plants won’t cooperate. The iris wants to be an iris. The azalea, an azalea. The poppy, a poppy. Read more.
Widowed: He Knew How to Show a Girl a Good Time
I was in the right place at the right time for the 2017 solar eclipse because my husband, Jon Newhall, knew how to show a girl a good time. Read more.
Spotted: Red Mary Janes at the Easter Vigil
When I spotted a pair of red Mary Janes at the Easter Vigil, my meditations flitted from shopping to death and resurrection and back to shopping. Read more.
Not Dead Yet. That Feral Plum Tree Lives On
The old plum tree lying on its side was a messy scramble of black and useless branches. But it was not dead yet. Read more.
Widowed: He’s Pushing Up a Daisy
I checked in on Jon the other day and I found him right where we’d buried him. He was pushing up a daisy. Just one. Read more.