Clik here to view.
Breakfast with a Side of Parrots: Dispatch from a 14-Month-Old Expat
My name is Amalía and I’m a Greekaraguan. Tomorrow I am 14 months old. These are my favorite things: pizza, woof-woofs, Papou. Right now, I am living in Granada, Nicaragua, where my Abuela was born....
View ArticleClik here to view.
Take Back the Dead
My fourteen-month-old daughter’s favorite animals are turtles. So much so that it’s fairly common for her to wake up in the morning, open her eyes and say “tortuga” (that or “pizza”, another favorite)....
View ArticleClik here to view.
Remembrances of Teachers Past: A Thanksgiving Thank-You Note
Mamina, front and center, third from left. Proust had his madeleines, the taste of which brought back multiple volumes of memories of his youth. Mamina, my grandmother-in-law, has Mother Soniat’s...
View ArticleClik here to view.
VirginMaryPalooza—Nine Crazy Nights!
Last week I went around the corner to buy baby wipes and saw Jesus Christ coming down the street. I didn’t get the baby wipes—you can’t buy those on the street corner pharmacies or in the corner...
View ArticleClik here to view.
And a Little Animal Shall Lead Them
When you live in a place where December is as hot as July is elsewhere, Christmas imagery depends a lot less on snowmen, sleigh rides through the wood to grandmother’s house, and chestnuts roasting on...
View ArticleClik here to view.
I Saw the Sign: On Feet and Fate
Yesterday we lost power, and I thought it might be a sign that the Lord wanted me to get a pedicure. I know this is the kind of thing that only a crazier-than-crazy person thinks, much less says out...
View ArticleClik here to view.
All My Found Saints
When it comes to cultural events and spiritual uplift, I love church and I love dancing. But you just don’t often get to do the two together. Except in Diriamba, Nicaragua, where I just attended the...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Laptop-Packin’ Mama
When I was a senior in college, taking a class called the Literature of Social Reflection, the teaching fellow leading my discussion section of the course introduced herself by saying, “I’m a...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Season’s Eatings: Les Miz, McLent, and Hollywood’s Latest (Imaginary) Diet Craze
McLent photo from khanya.wordpress.com I’m not a psychic, so I can’t make predictions. But as a fiction writer, I can indulge in the occasional fantasy. And having been both a Sunday School teacher for...
View ArticleClik here to view.
We’ll Always Have Granada: A Less-than-Dramatic Farewell
View from the volcano. I’d never been described as low-key until I moved to Greece at age 28. In the U.S., I could be shy or bookish at times, but I always thought of myself as having a mild flair for...
View ArticleClik here to view.
See No Evil: Easter, Facebook, and Where the Bodies Are Buried
This past weekend was Orthodox Easter, which Amalia, my husband, and I spent with my parents in Worcester, Massachusetts. Amalia’s arrival was greeted with delight by her grandparents/rabid fans. But...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The Littlest Critic–What My Toddler Taught Me about Writing
When I wrote my first novel, Other Waters, I was a graduate student in the Writing Division of Columbia University’s School of the Arts, so I had the benefit of hearing lots and lots of other people’s...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The Metamorphosis in Miami: On Motherhood and “the Mati”
When I walked into this bathroom this morning and saw the dying cockroach, flailing it’s little feelers and all six legs, that’s when I knew I needed an exorcism. I know what you’re thinking: an...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Lockdown in Lia: Larger than Life Days in Our Tiny Village
After a whirlwind three weeks of weddings (my cousin’s on the Peloponnesian coast), ruins (the Byzantine city of Butrint in what is now Albania), and beaches (too numerous to mention), I thought we’d...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Casita, Sweet Casita
When Amalía gets tired, she turns to me or her father and says “go to casita.” She knows the word “home,” but it’s not exactly what she intends to say. Casita means “little house,” but it doesn’t refer...
View ArticleClik here to view.
A Life Less Ordinary
Yesterday morning, while 64-year-old Diana Nyad was swimming from Cuba to Florida without the protection of a shark cage, succeeding, on her fifth attempt, in becoming the first person to do so, my...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Have Ritual, Will Travel
Moving in–notice the brand new ring on my finger. Well, it’s the End Times. Which explains why I’m having so many revelations lately. Maybe that’s a little dramatic. I’m fairly confident it’s not the...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The Metamorphosis in Miami: On Motherhood and “the Mati”
When I walked into this bathroom this morning and saw the dying cockroach, flailing it’s little feelers and all six legs, that’s when I knew I needed an exorcism. I know what you’re thinking: an...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Lockdown in Lia: Larger than Life Days in Our Tiny Village
After a whirlwind three weeks of weddings (my cousin’s on the Peloponnesian coast), ruins (the Byzantine city of Butrint in what is now Albania), and beaches (too numerous to mention), I thought we’d...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Casita, Sweet Casita
When Amalía gets tired, she turns to me or her father and says “go to casita.” She knows the word “home,” but it’s not exactly what she intends to say. Casita means “little house,” but it doesn’t refer...
View Article
