I don’t think I’m a cold or callous person, but I have to admit that sometimes, I feel less alone when I hear about the big fat mess that exists in other people’s lives (and minds). I don’t want anyone to suffer, but it’s a part of life, and it’s sometimes helpful to be reminded of it.
In case you’re like that, I thought I’d share the story of my really shitty day yesterday. Feel free to be all smug and think to yourself, “Well, at least I’m not that bad!”
So I did this crazy thing. I wrote a book. It took me a month.
No, seriously. One day I was heading to the mountains to go snowboarding with my son; he was sleeping, and I didn’t want to play the radio. I had the kernel of an idea for a book tickling my brain, so what I did with the silence in the car was to begin writing it in my head. I wrote three chapters on the drive to the mountains; on the way home, I told it to myself, as though it was a story I had once heard. When I sat down to write it out the next day, the whole thing was still there, complete.
And the story kept pouring out of me, every day for a month. I told my friend De Anna that the writing was so easy that it couldn’t possibly be any good, but she said I was Continue reading
As an exercise in I don’t know what (halting boredom in its tracks, maybe), I spent some time this morning looking back on my blogging career to see what I could see. And what I learned was: Continue reading
So I’m learning a thing lately. (No, I’m not talking about a thing in silks class, though I can show you some videos if you like.) Anyway, I’m learning something and, by golly, I feel great! Continue reading
As written in the headline, my resolution for the coming year is to find… wait. Dammit! I did it again.
The babies aren’t dead. To be clear, they’re not exactly alive, either, and never were. But they’re certainly not dead. They’re just naked. I don’t know why I always refer to them as dead babies rather than naked babies. Continue reading
My 1500-miles-away daughter said to me recently: “You should write a post about me. And about how school is hard. And about how adulting is hard.” And my first thought was, “Oh, sweets, it gets so much harder.”
When I was a kid, I had a Wonder Woman outfit. Not the cheap plastic-y kind you get from a Halloween store today, but a homemade, kick-ass one: blue shorts with ironed-on white stars (unevenly cut out by my seven-year-old hands), a white t-shirt with red stripes, and a length of twine wrapped around a belt loop for a magic lasso.
Best of all: bullet-deflecting silver bracelets my brother Tim cut for me out of an empty Continue reading
This is a weird time. It’s sad and scary. It’s colorful and creative. It’s overwhelming and enlightening and stimulating and freeing. And exhausting – mustn’t forget exhausting.
My daughter left for college last month. She is a couple thousand miles away, and let me tell you, it’s just weird. It’s a big deal, but not necessarily in the way I thought it was going to be.
Being the cooking superstar that I most definitely am not, I was as surprised as anyone when I recently discovered the joy of making my own croutons for salads. Unfortunately (like always, when it comes to cooking), I’ve stumbled upon some major obstacles.
How hard can it be to make a salad, you ask? Here, I offer two exhibits from the Nastu household Crouton Conflict.
Exhibit A. “You Should Have…”
I go to the store and buy a delicious-looking loaf of French bread, crusty on the outside, soft on the inside. I’m planning to let it get stale so I can make croutons the next day. Continue reading
Show of hands, please: When you have a long list of things to accomplish, who finds it impossible to decide which task to start with because they all seem equally important? Would you rather eat glass than make a phone call to, say, the accountant or pharmacy or doctor’s office or utility company?* Do you sometimes hop out of bed with obscene amounts of optimism and a plan to accomplish a Superman-sized list in a single bound? And by dinner, do you feel like a miserable failure because you have 14 pages of things left to do and you’re as tired as a toddler after her first day of preschool (and just as weepy)? Continue reading