When You Can’t Remember Your Favorite, Dream a Better Dream

When You Grow-Up You Get to be Your Favorite Thing


She asks sleepily “Mama, when you grow-up do you get to be your favorite thing?”
I, sitting on her bed say “Yes” then ask “What’s your favorite thing?”
She says (while yawning) “I don’t remember.” Rolls her tiny little body on it’s side, falls quickly to sleep.

Some days are like that, you can’t remember any of your favorite things and all that’s left to do is dream a better dream, dream of new favorite things.


Praying for A Two Week Miracle

Four years ago I watched my mother get happily married in Vegas before she flew off to England to start her new life. Three years ago, she flatlined during routine angioplasty and almost lost that new and wonderful life. My mother almost died another two times after that, covering her bathroom walls with blood from a burst femoral artery. Read more


Dude, You Spilled Haterade all Over My Vagina!

Today friends, we’re going to deconstruct one of my favorite hate mails.

“What?” You ask, “You Melissa, get hate mail?”
Oh yes, dear reader, I do indeed get hate mail, at least one a week, as do most of the men and women I know who are public about their life in any way. The hate mail I receive usually has to do with me having a vagina, and a family, and a career… because Lord knows you can’t have all three. Read more


Every Morning with My iPhone

Every morning I wake up and click… pursue an interest, and click, pursue another… and associate that interesting bit with another here, which I look up, and another here, which I investigate into minutia… into fractals into tiny bits and bytes and break it downs until finally finally finally…  Read more