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Which of these topics is most deserving of its own post: movie nights with Best Friend, the working theory on what’s wrong with my underarm, or why I’ve joined Youngest Sister in wanting to dangle Tom from a penthouse window? I couldn’t decide, and they’re probably equally uninteresting, so let’s work our way through a […]

“Can I ask why you’re going to the medical campus?” my ride-share driver asked this morning. “Do you work there?” We’d already established that he lived one street over from mine with his physician wife, and that we shopped at the same Aldi and Costco and shared several favorite neighborhood restaurants. Next we covered conspiracy

How much information do we owe our families about our lives? I don’t have any deep thoughts about this at the moment, only a bunch of unanswered questions. There were times during my sisters’ recent breakup sagas when I hesitated to offer pieces of advice, or carefully reworded sentiments I would’ve rather shared more freely,

“Are you still writing about movies?” a Cranky Lesbian reader asked me today, so I finally updated the site to let Cranky followers know most of what’s been keeping me busy. Little of it will be new to people who check in here, except that I plan to move my reviews to a new URL

I’m too tired to make a story out of this, but here’s what happened today for anyone who is curious. What one therapist giveth, another taketh away. This morning kicked off with another speech therapy session, and the SLP’s first order of business was to share the report from last week’s swallow test. It reiterated

Any bets on whether the PT evaluation will finally happen tomorrow morning? More importantly, what are the odds I’ll see John McEnold again? That’s the name I’ve privately given a frail, elderly man who optimistically shows up to physical therapy dressed like John McEnroe at Wimbledon circa 1981 — right down to the red headband

It’s been a while since I’ve shared any photos of small, stupid things, so here’s an unsatisfying morsel (or three) to chew on before I go do weekend-y things. Let’s start with an upcoming project. Thrift stores, neighborhood groups and online marketplaces are great sources of old, cheap miniature houses, and this week I acquired

When my maternal grandma died, I bought an iPad. “My grief tablet,” I jokingly called it, a $300-something model on sale at Costco that was quite a splurge for me at that time. The Kindle Fire my ex had given me years earlier still worked perfectly, but its capabilities were comparatively limited and it periodically

It was obvious from his profile photo that Octavius, the Lyft driver assigned to take me to the hospital for yesterday’s swallow study, was a flaming homosexual.* Still, I was unprepared for what greeted me as I opened the door to his SUV and he launched into a carefully choreographed routine. Todrick Hall’s “Queen” was

There will be no jocularity or linguistic sleight of hand this evening, just a shallow sigh of resignation (since I’m not currently as skilled at deep breaths) as we get this out of the way: the barium swallow study ended prematurely because — surprise, surprise — there was a problem. No, I didn’t choke in