I write stuff down. writer • humorist • activist
There’s one less middle school student in my town today. One less Boy Scout, one less baseball player. One less swimmer. One less brother. One less son. A boy died and our hearts broke. Time stood still while moms, dads, neighbors, teachers, coaches, and friends tried to negotiate the traffic jam of gossip and rumors and finally, sadly, truth. Sometimes you can do everything right and still nothing is okay.
One evening, (okay, perhaps more than just one) after dinner when the kids neglected, yet again, to clear the table, I lost it. “What’s your deal?” I yelled at no one in particular. Ranting and raving I went off on the deal we had, Dad and I cook, they set and clear. Simple, right? Yet they didn’t follow through, again, so I explained how I ask them to do a
The energy was palpable at 7:30 this morning when I cast my vote for Obama. No long lines, but a constant whirlwind of people coming in, going out. All exercising their voting right, all walking with a purpose, all driven. I heard that earlier, at 6:00 am, the line was wrapped around one school with people already waiting, but that had eased by the time I showed up. My sister
My kid rips open her first-ever paycheck and her jaw drops. “Where’s my money?” she demands. Apparently, she was expecting more. Her and me both. That’s the thing about R-Js. The real jobs deduct real taxes, something babysitting, mowing lawns, dog walking, tutoring, and the wrath of other teen beats fail to do. Her iTune purchasing power greatly diminished, and she has yet to realize the reality of mortgage payments,
Kid number 1 starts her first R-J today. Her first real job. I tend the think the $15/hour she got tax-free for math tutoring was an RJ, or the exorbitant amount of cash desperate parents force into her pockets each weekend — again, under the table — for an evening out is, perhaps not an RJ, but a great cash none-the-less. Today she starts checking and bagging groceries at the
I’ve been working full time trying to find work. Small jobs trickle in, but this month — and last — not so much. It’s ten years post IR, Internet Revolution, with four kids, a dog and a day off from school. Oh, and the economy’s tanking and no one’s hiring and if they are, they’re not sure they can pay you – ever. Freelancers like me spend more time soliciting work, than actually
My husband says playing lotto is for people who are really, really bad at math. It’s a lot like health insurance. Denying people health insurance coverage means someone out there is really, really bad at math. But many of us don’t have a choice; it’s simply not part of the employment options of our chosen career path. Or the job we love. Or the job we have to do to
I thought I got a small gig recently, especially when I said I’d do all their local charity stuff pro bono. We clicked, she liked me, I liked her. All was good in the world. But then this smart, smart woman asked me a grand slam question: “Who wouldn’t I work for? What’s off limits?” I immediately replied, “No one. Nope, can’t think of anyone I wouldn’t work for. Nothing
An irreverent storyteller with a foul mouth and big heart, Kathryn Mayer (aka Kathy and/or Kate) is a writer, humorist, and (former) activist writing out loud with humor and grace about little life moments with big ripples, including the space between parenting and aging parents, social issues, angsty reflections of midlife, and, sigh, gun humpers. Still. Sometimes a big deal, sometimes not Mayer is a national award-winning columnist, according to the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, and her essays have been recognized as Voice of … Read More Here...
kate[at]kathrynmayer[dot]com
xo Kate