I’m very disappointed in you, microfiber towel.

On a cold and wintery morning, I turn off the hot shower and reach for you through a fog of steam. You look so inviting, so warm and fluffy, like a flattened rectangular teddy bear hanging on a peg in the bathroom, waiting to wrap me in your warm embrace. Your deep, lush pilings, like intestinal villi, hold such promise for quick absorption. Quickly now, no time for delay, for with the shower off the room is already growing chilly, the cold air is rushing in. I grab you and rub vigorously. And rub some more. And yet I’m somehow no drier. And now colder than before. How could this be? This isn’t working. You’ve left me damp, chilled, heartbroken. The promise of absorption was a lie. You don’t absorb, you just push water from one place to the next. I wrap you around me, but instead of a warm dry embrace, you feel….plastickyContinue reading “I’m very disappointed in you, microfiber towel.”

Because Africa is an Adventure

Intrepid travelers experience an authentic African adventure when their bus gets stuck in a riverbed in Namibia.

Bring fancy quick-dry clothes made of rip-stop nylon (because the cruelest thorns in the world are found in Africa). The type of clothes that cost a lot of money in Patagonia catalogs. Preferably the pants that have legs that zip off and become shorts. Because you never know when you might have to zip down and run from a hungry hyena. Because Africa is an adventure. Continue reading “Because Africa is an Adventure”

The Arab Mare

The author on an Appaloosa gelding named Ringo

Grandpa came home one day with a blood-red Arab mare named Suzy. We all thought he was foolish for buying her; a 65-year old man had no business on such a hot-blooded horse, a mare no less, which would be coming into heat every month and acting crazy. We were all afraid he would get thrown and break a hip. But Grandpa didn’t listen to our protests. I think he was attracted to her beauty rather than her practicality, like a man in a mid-life crisis purchasing a flashy red sports car. And Suzy was a beauty, lightly built with sleek graceful lines and a delicate head with the dished shape characteristic of her breed. Beautiful, but entirely impractical. Continue reading “The Arab Mare”

My People

It is very cold, around 15 degrees, and a stout north wind makes it feel even colder. My breath forms a white cloud around my head each time I exhale. In the Franconia/Springfield Metro station a man stands in the entrance to the station holding a handwritten cardboard sign reading “Disabled Veteran. Any help is appreciated.” Continue reading “My People”