All posts by waiter

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Shogun of Suds

I’m forty-seven years old and I’ve never owned a washing machine. Once I moved out of my parents’ house life was one Laundromat after another. When I think of all the quarters I dropped into washing machines of dubious sanitary quality I probably could’ve bought

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Beyond Confusion

Last Saturday night my wife and I sent our daughter to her grandmother’s and went to a nice restaurant for dinner. It was the kind of place where you can drop a hundred bucks in a few bites. Now that we’re homeowners Annie and I

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Nature & Grace

A couple of days ago I was in a horrible mood. Overwhelmed and angry, I felt like the world was conspiring against me. It wasn’t of course, but if you had tried pointing out my delusional thinking I would’ve ripped your head off. Just as

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Scream

When I saw that picture of the little Syrian boy lying dead on the beach I burst into tears. I wanted to write something about the Syrian refugee crisis but failed. The photo says it all. (Caution: Disturbing image) That picture is a silent scream.

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New & Different

I lived in my old apartment for twelve years. Intimate with every corner and creaking board I could walk through it blindfolded. I knew the sounds the building made, how it smelled and where the light and shadows fell. Familiar with my neighbors’ schedules and

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The Sewing Machine

When my wife moved into my apartment three and a half years ago I said to my mother, “If we survive this process we’ll probably get married.” Whenever two people begin the nitty-gritty of becoming a couple the sparks will fly. Over the years Annie

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The Tree of Life

“The answer is no.” “What’s your problem?” my wife said, exasperated. “This house is great!” “The oil tank’s rusted, the yard will flood, the layout is weird, and the kitchen’s from the 70’s. Besides the school system sucks.” The realtor trailing us, a flaky fiftyish

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A Man’s Got to Know His Limitations

I’m at the Laundromat with my daughter washing her clothes. As Natalie sits in her car seat playing with her doll, I think for the hundredth time how I have to buy a house. My own washer and dryer would be nice. “Hey lady,” a

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Tightrope

I’m driving to work when my wife calls me on my cellphone. Answering using the hands free gizmo my car is immediately filled with the wails of a crying baby. “Natalie burned herself,” my wife says, choking back tears. “How?” “I was in the kitchen,”