There is hardly a place more depressing than a dying mall. The vastness of the decay. The long-ago cheer. A space requiring fullness, vacuumed out.
Only in an emergency would I end up in one. But when I landed in Atlanta earlier today, I found that a packing error had rendered me sports jacket-less. Continue reading “The unmatched gloom of the dying mall”
If my wife had been as discriminating picking husbands as she is picking Christmas trees, I can only assume we wouldn’t be married. Continue reading “My wife knows how to pick a fine specimen (a Christmas tree, of course).”
Months before he made his first appearance the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the air was already crackling with anticipation of the Elf on a Shelf — that cute, mischievous figure clad in red who sits in absolute stillness in our house (on a shelf or poking his head out of a toy bin, or in the corner of the kitchen counter) until reappearing the next morning in another spot, where his paralysis has again taken hold. Continue reading “The elf’s spell”