I like my men like I like my seasonal depression: year-round. I like my men like I like my grandma: somehow always packing a $2 bill. I like my men like I like the letter Y: literary, curious, comes at the end of When Harry Met Sally. I like my…

Finally, it’s safe to read “Where the Red Fern Grows” — Old Yeller It came clear to me that Mama was right. And from everything I had heard, I knew that there was very little chance of Old Yeller’s escaping the sickness. …

Buckle up, here they come. — Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven? Or, based on your expression, is that neck brace from an injury you sustained at work and would rather not talk about? I don’t know if you know this, but you look a lot like my next girlfriend. She is not traditionally…

In the darkness of my depression, my daughter helps me navigate the shadows — Every evening when the sun starts to set, my daughter picks me a bouquet of light. The front door of our house is glass-paned, so she crouches in front of it, where lines of sun are drifting across the wood floor. …

You’ve been wondering if that “cheers!” is a sign of aggression. — “Namaste” You went to one yoga class and spent the entire time in child’s pose. You’re writing a ukulele song about the toe-hole you’ve worn through your TOMs. “Cheers!” You also write “colour” and talk about “organising your flat.” You have mistaken your porkpie hat for a personality. “Xoxoxo” You are a bored…

Some personal news — Hi everyone, Starting today, I’m so blessed to announce that I will officially begin saying “namaste.” This has been in the works for quite a while, but after a really successful email signature roll-out, I’m happy to say that beginning today, I’ll also be incorporating “namaste” into my everyday vocabulary. …