No Ruts In Our Shoulders

My friend and I were laughing smugly the other night about being Kate Hudson-like when it comes to our endowment -- modest.  That's okay with us, less gravitational pull you know and no disfigurement from overburdened bra straps. Then I read a comment this morning from Sioux, a reader who had commented on my Death By Girdle post. It reminded me of something I wrote three years ago, about the unblinking truth of the YMCA locker room, which seems particularly prescient … [Read more...]

Choose Carefully Your Dying Words

  My mother would have been eighty-nine years old today. She’s been gone now since July of 2006. I still miss her and think of her every single day.  We had a bit of a fiery relationship, I was the dutiful daughter, she was the domineering matriarch. Unlike me, my mother, Beverly Gene Waddell Hampton Goss Whatley Garcia, tended to be opinionated. Unlike me, she tended to enjoy making an entrance, often late. Unlike me she had a flair for drama, practiced at the … [Read more...]