Bob* and I are reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s These Happy Golden Years. Bob is eight. Love is icky; kissing, unspeakable. In tonight’s chapter, Almanzo just kissed Laura and gave her a ring. Bob handled it as best he could, hands over his ears, wincing until it was over. Then, we both pretended to vomit intoContinue reading “Love”

Finally at peace with my hatred of Valentine’s Day

As the years go by, I feel increasingly sheepish about my utter loathing for Valentine’s Day. It seems like such a stereotypical Gen X thing to do: sneering at candy hearts and sweet sentiments and sex. Who sneers at sex? Oh, so insufferable, my loathing for this day. But I can’t help it. For aContinue reading “Finally at peace with my hatred of Valentine’s Day”