tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61524244317497335652011-04-21T15:51:21.904-07:00Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.comBlogger91100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-89348695112612740602007-10-13T18:10:00.001-07:002007-10-13T18:20:40.228-07:00

The timer is beeping for a cake I have already taken from the oven. I knew it was done because the smell shifted ever so slightly; from sweet to a hint of acridity. I forgot to turn off the timer and so had to leave my computer to press the button, beeping annoyingly, even though the cake was long pulled, resting on the countertop, cooling. The beep feels random and intrusive. The cake is

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-45563893954940378742007-09-26T08:26:00.001-07:002007-09-26T08:35:51.370-07:00

Dear Mayor Sanders,I do not know who you are. I do not really know your city - except for a few vacation trips when my children were younger. But I do know people. And I do know what courage looks like. Mayor Sanders, you are a hero. There will be a time, later, when people are looking at history, trying find exact moments of change, and they will come upon you, and your wife - being real,

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-78328854478366793092007-08-19T14:33:00.000-07:002007-08-19T14:34:58.919-07:00

“I think you have Asperger’s syndrome” she says, putting down her magazine.“Hmmmm,” is his reply peering over the top of his laptop. They are sitting across from each other as they often do, but in separate worlds, delivered on glowing screens and printed sheets. A friend noted that their living room resembled an internet café. “What are you reading?”“The New Yorker,” she says with no small

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-56527902750109570392007-08-08T07:43:00.000-07:002007-08-08T07:48:49.679-07:00

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-29629625361121300932007-07-22T21:53:00.000-07:002007-08-08T13:19:23.523-07:00

“Look, it tends to be something different with me. I tend to feel the attraction and then put a feeler out there. Like a signal or something, a gesture, like ‘I know that you know that I know kind of thing’; a look, or a shrug of the shoulder. And there’s a way, if you catch my eye, that I can see the twinkle of recognition. That’s the hook. That’s the moment that I know it’s just a matter of

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-86760188563283958372007-07-21T10:32:00.000-07:002007-07-21T11:00:39.880-07:00

A Tourist in New YorkJanuary 2002I.Are we different they ask? They are somber. They are quiet. Like a dog, kicked, they cower in a corner of themselves. Eyes watching. Brows twitching. They wait.The cabs no longer honk their horns. Even now I hear a bird sing. We jumped when a box hit the ground. There is fear. But a new kind.There is no petty larceny. No pickpockets. No muggings. No sirens. No

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-57280980936144946862007-07-19T11:26:00.000-07:002007-07-19T11:30:14.505-07:00

“Look at us,” he said, “We’re time travelers!”I was trying in that moment to reconcile the face in front of me with the child I had left behind 40 years ago. Left but never left. Left but have a spent a lifetime searching for. “Who are you?” was what I was thinking but what I said was “You look like your father” which was true enough and he said “You look like Rayna Star” which was an amazing

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-16244070460475859872007-07-10T09:12:00.000-07:002007-07-10T09:21:47.013-07:00

I do not spend a lot on my appearance. I’m forty-nine years old. I look my age. My hair is frizzy and has grey in it. I had it blown out once and could barely tolerate the attention. The next day I took a shower and the frizz returned. No one told me that $40 could disappear in an instant in your morning shower. I don’t get my nails done. My hands are a mess. I pick at my fingers. When I worry

Dolly's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16733453207461079976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6152424431749733565.post-91475110838064783922007-07-04T14:24:00.000-07:002007-07-04T14:31:54.614-07:00

It started with the mouse actually. He died. I didn’t believe anything anyone told me, before that. I thought people were way too precious about things like food and water – way too cautious like it was some new form of narcissism, all this food and environmental awareness. Like I read today in the New York Times that there is a market where you can get a dozen eggs for eight dollars a dozen.

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