Christy The Writer

How can I NOT miss Jackie????

I was making supper last night and, while trying to measure cornstarch, ended up getting it all over myself, the counter and the floor. You know things aren’t going well when you look like the “before” shot in a kitchen gadget infomercial. “Has this ever happened to you?”

I hate black pantyhose. I really do. I take a new pair out of the package, slide one leg in and viola – an immaculately conceived snag. Is this on purpose? Do the No Nonsense people know the black ones snag easily so they’ll just spare me the angst of the first one by doing [...]

Guy and I were driving to Kansas to spend Thanksgiving with my family when the difference in our geographic background reared its head yet again. I was watching some men bale hay in a field as we passed and I remarked, “Look, they’re baling.” Guy glanced over and said, “Why? It’s not going well?”

I’m leaving for vacation this weekend, so let me send my holiday wishes out a little early: Happy Manifest Destiny Day, everyone! Time to eat too much pie and watch our asses spread southward!

What’s with all the strikes? Come on. That’s the professional world’s equivalent of kicking and screaming and holding your breath till you turn blue. Now the Broadway stagehands are on strike and, get this, it has shut down some of the biggest Broadway shows. The stagehands? When did they get so powerful? When I did [...]

Wow - why do I find this so incredibly sad? Is it that they’re playing without Donny, is it that the one in the middle looks like a that-plastic-surgery-didn’t-go-so-well version of Donny, or is it that they’re playing in Atlantic City for $30 a pop?

There is one reason, and one reason only, why I dread getting old: I never want to be referred to as “feisty.” If you’re over 80 and can walk, have your own teeth or can stay awake for 20  minutes at a stretch, you’re a feisty one.

I filled my car with gas this morning. Forty-eight bucks. FORTY EIGHT BUCKS. How much longer are we going to put up with this, people? Shouldn’t they be required to at least hold our hand first? Maybe buy us dinner?

I’m starting to suspect I give my shrink bad moments. I can’t imagine why – all I said was that I dreamed Guy had a nervous breakdown and I put him in an institution, but every time I went to visit him I couldn’t get in and ended up in the yard playing volleyball with Duncan Sheik. [...]