I hate talking about money, but sometimes it's inevitable. Money makes me sad, the way its value and weight changes from country to country, the way it controls actions, the way it determines the exchange of goods, the way it provides "freedom" in some cases. The way it's the only currently available way I can acquire 6 pounds of pork shoulder until I decide to defy better judgement and start a pig and cattle farm. The more money you have, the farther it seems you can go.Read More
The other day at work, as I scooped butter pecan ice cream into a stale wafer cone for a chatty middle aged woman with long, green, beach glass earrings dangling from her buttery-soft earlobes, she suddenly asked me how I felt about living on Long Island.Read More
I went to Peru, and all I came back with was pizza (for now). But I can explain.