NBC just bought iVillage for $600 million dollars in a corporate buyout. In case you’ve never looked, iVillage is a
women’s interest site. In iVillage’s mind (and in NBC’s mind apparently) women’s interest turns out to be gossip, astrology, entertainment news, love and sex advice, parenting advice and cooking tips.
It’s not that real women aren’t interested in these topics. I just think that for $600 million smackers, NBC could find itself something a lot more important to buy that represents what real women are thinking. Take a look at the women in the blog-o-sphere, for example, and you’ll find . . .
Mending a ripped relationship is a lot like mending a ripped seam. If you can get the two sides to cross over the ripped zone and come together for a while. hold still for a while and pay attention, then things might be repaired.
Some people are better at mending than others. When I try it, the stitches are a little clumsy and less than neat. You can always see the spot I mended. Healing relationship woes for me is similar. There’s a little bumpy scar left behind that I . . .
I cut through the hedge to my neighbor’s back yard. The glass on the kitchen door was broken, the door closed. I heard Dudley’s Volkswagen drive by on the street. There were no other sounds.
I peeked through the broken glass to see Sally’s shelf of cookbooks scattered on the kitchen floor. An overturned chair lay near the door.
Sally? I called. At the sound of my voice, Sally’s dog Bunko raised his head. I’d missed seeing him under the table. He whimpered and gave a cursory thump of his tail.
Please, no, I muttered . . .
The aroma of the oranges stopped me. The clamor and stink of the crowded market swirled around me, but the oranges smelled fresh and safely clean. I piled several in my hands.
I turned to see what caused a bump from behind me. A tiny flyspeck of a boy snatched my wallet and ran. I scattered oranges everywhere and ran after him. He led me down a narrow alley, his small body disappearing behind everything between us. I quickly . . .
You don’t have to be young to make a stupid mistake, but it helps. Youth doesn’t comprehend danger or consequences. Maybe there’s an evolutionary reason for that. Maybe if young people were cautious and mature, no progress would ever be made, nothing new would ever be tried.
A lot of young people have been injured or even killed doing stupid things. How can that be a valuable trait? As a person, I take a personal approach to stupid mistakes, especially those made by my own children, who I am trying to protect from harm. But in evolutionary terms, do individual stupid mistakes matter? Do individuals matter . . .
Today’s topic: My favorite. My first 50 words . . .
My favorite ice cream no longer exists. Burgundy Cherry from Baskin Robbins. The closest thing you can find these days is Cherry Garcia at Ben and Jerry’s.
When I was a kid we went to the creamery for ice cream. You could smell it coming a block away. After you left, your clothes smelled of moldy milk all day long. They also sold ice cream at . . .
Today’s topic: hike. My first 50 words . . .
My favorite fall hike is along Sandia Crest to a spectacular view of a stand of aspen. We’d almost reached the viewpoint when I smelled it. The unmistakable aroma of death. My steps slowed. Behind me, Jeni muttered,
Do you smell that?
Within a few yards, we could hear the flies.
It will be a bear or a coyote, I said. We peered over a sharp drop off and saw a woman’s body. She sprawled face down, her left leg at an awkward angle. A knife stuck . . .
Today’s topic: inns and suites. My first 50 words . . .
I followed her to the South Valley Inns and Suites. She headed straight to the building farthest from the highway and parked outside room 412. She scampered to the door her silly high heeled shoes and disappeared into the room. I recognized the black SUV parked next to her car. It belongs to my sister Pam.
I dropped the baseball bat I’d been clutching and stared at the SUV. It really was Pam’s. What did that mean? I couldn’t think. I pulled into a parking slot and grabbed the bat again . . .
Today’s topic: I wonder. My first 50 words . . .
I wonder if she still likes lima beans. Does she still pay avid attention to the international news from Eastern Europe? Can she still write a powerful sentence? Did she navigate the perils of drugs and alcohol during her adolescence and make it through to adulthood still able to take advantage of her potential?
There have been many ten-year-old people in my life, passing by year after year. They blur after a while. But some stand out. Like scruffy, blonde haired . . .
Topic of the day: sweetheart. My first 50 words . . .
Honey, you came to the right place, he said. He waved his young and nicely sculpted arm toward the array of used vehicles in the lot outside the window.
I have a sweetheart of a deal for you. The perfect car for what you need.
He stood up and moved toward the door. I followed. I generally didn’t respond favorably to men who called me honey, but I decided to reserve judgement until I saw what the sweetheart deal amounted to. . . .