drama drama.

sexy sweaters

drama drama was a local radio contest
that aired on my way to middle school.
it went a little something like this:
@ 7am, oldies 94.3 played a movie clip
& the 1st caller to guess the movie correctly
won dinner @ a shitty italian restaurant.
we had a car phone.
i put the station on speed dial.
we won . . . a lot.

tomorrow ≠ president’s day.

bill & hilary, 1972
salad days

in second through eighth grade,
my teachers would frequently announce,
“tomorrow, there will be a surprise.”
& each time, i would get so worked up
until i was sure i had figured out
exactly what was happening:
bill clinton is coming!
bill clinton is coming!
& each time, without fail,
they would reveal something sad
like a new student or how to calculate tip.
unfazed, i always figured,
“okay fine . . . maybe next time.”
i’d say mcworld is mostly to blame.

the last 5 years.


5 year diary
tamara shopsin

5 great things that happened last night:

1...went to an iconic steakhouse with the unsinkable molly jane.
2...hung out backstage during the live taping of this annual event.
3...laughed the loudest when they announced best in show.
4...got likened to this actress by some serious bollywooders.
5...discovered tamara’s 5 year diary (a must for any listmaker).

fell into the gap.


life is surreal right now.
currently, i do not have a job
nor am i looking for a job
(both, by choice).
them:..you crazy?
me:..maybe a little?
them:..oh shit, she crazy.
basically, for the next two months,
i’ve decided to pull a quarter life reset,
live off 3.5 years of day job savings
& choose my own adventure.
like always, any & all
i’m okay / you’re okay
wisdom / nota benes
ps – a very big thank you to the 14th street apple store for supplying such fast, reliable, and totally free internet to mild mannered hoardes of midwestern moms, european dads, your best friend’s cousin . . . and me.  this post could not have been drafted without you.  additionally, an even bigger no thank you to time warner for cutting major east village cables and indefinitely slowing all of 7th street to something straight out of my abby728 at aol dot com dial-up daze.

real simple.


“by fourth grade i was allowed to come home after school alone. it taught me a lot about keeping track of my keys and how to listen for the sound of my mom’s car in the driveway so i wouldn’t be caught with food in the living room.”

on working moms

when i was 23.


i lived in a third floor walk-up where we had to throw the keys out the window to let people in. the man who owned the bodega downstairs always called me “mami” and his sixteen year old son once invited me to a party i actually considered going to . . . i occupied one of the four bedrooms. i was friends with the girl i shared a wall with.  once, to avoid interacting with anybody else in the apartment, i climbed out my window, across the fireplace, and into her window, just so we could lie on the bed and watch felicity together . . .when i was 23, no matter how much i cleaned, my room felt dusty.  here are the things i never had in the apartment at 23: paper towels, tissues, zip loc bags, neosporin, bottled water, fresh fruit, bagels, or cream cheese . . . when i was 23, i liked to go sit on my roof, listen to music, and daydream
about an age
when i would know anything
about anything.

what i was doing when i was 23
marguerite weisman

a startup.


morning swims
afternoon hims
corgis for me
chickens for her
blogging & drawing
reading & writing
tabouli tuesdays
focaccia fridays
dot com dot org dot gov

25 & retired
fox & marsh, inc.

me too, kev.

things never turn out exactly the way you planned. i know they didn’t with me. still, like my father used to say, ‘traffic’s traffic, you go where life takes you’ and growing up happens in a heartbeat. one day you’re in diapers, the next you’re gone, but the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. i remember a time, a place, a particular fourth of july, the things that happened in that decade of war and change. i remember a house like a lot of houses, a yard like a lot of yards, on a street like a lot of other streets. i remember how hard it was growing up among people and places i loved. most of all, i remember how hard it was to leave. and the thing is, after all these years

i still look back in wonder.