A few weeks ago, on a whim, the boys and I took a detour from our errands to stop at Liberty State Park. I thought they might get a kick out of seeing the old train station, which, in my recollection contained a cornucopia of old train cars upon which…
I've been re-reading some of Alice Seabold's memoir of that same title. She was, in some ways, the inspiration behind Lymphomania. I'm awed by her honesty, humanity, and humor in light of what she experienced. And so, in turn, I've been thinking about that word lately. A lot. Like alotta…
I know I should write about this Osama stuff, but honestly it makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Something just feels horribly wrong about celebrating any sort of death. I mean, I wouldn't even wish it on Rod Stewart. Much. September 11th was easily the scariest, most confusing day of my life. …
