It is no longer so hot here that you want to take off all your clothes and pour ice water all over yourself, so that means that it’s possibly safe to think about love again.  We’ve been in a love  moratorium for some time now on the East coast. It’s a safety issue. You can’t survive long if you get too close to another human being when...

I wish I were lying about the number of degrees we have here. But there really are a trillion of them, and the air is hot and sticky and thick with ozone, whatever that is. (Ever notice how ozone is sometimes good and sometimes bad, and sometimes is so damaged that it has a hole in it?) I am barricaded in the basement of my house, where many of the degrees mercifully...

For a while I was grateful that I wasn’t caught up in “Lost.” I had so much more free time than other people I knew, the ones who were always going on about a Smoke Monster and The Others, and who not only had to watch the show each week (and mourn its absence during its many hiatus times) but also seemed to need to go to chat rooms and special ...

Not all springtimes are the same. In Connecticut, there are about fifty kinds of springs, and most of them, sad to say, are abominably cold and uncommitted, like bachelors who are determined to resist love. Then they turn HOT all of a sudden one day, and people go around complaining, like this is something they just thought of: “We NEVER get a springtime. We...