My husband reads The New Yorker for the articles. I read it for the cartoons. More accurately, my husband shows me the cartoons he knows I’ll find amusing.
I have trouble remembering the 10 Commandments, lyrics of songs, people’s names, Shakespeare plays. But I have a permanent memory of a New Yorker Leo Cullum cartoon that I probably first saw more than 20 years ago. Read More »
I do love Christmas, but I sometimes find that the reality doesn’t quite live up to the anticipation. When I was a kid this was especially true. I’d get up on Christmas morning after weeks of anticipation and wait impatiently until the allowed parental wake-up time, at which time I would join my four siblings in the world’s fastest ripping off of wrapping paper.
Just like that, it was over. And the letdown permeated the rest of the Read More »
WholeArsed 