If You’re Black and in the Polar Vortex Today, You Have God’s Permission to Be Ashy (For a Day)

There’s a bit in The Broke Diaries—Angela Nissel’s iconic and hilarious memoir about her time at the University of Pennsylvania—where the perpetually hungry Angie is probing her kitchen for something to eat, cheers when she finds a box of grits but discovers (sadly) that the box contains just one solitary grit. I have…

You Don't Have to Ask About My New Baby When You See Me (You Can If You Want To! But It's Fine If You Don't!)

It’s too early to make a definitive determination, but I think my 3-year-old daughter has transitioned out of her Boss Baby stage. She no longer asks to watch Boss Baby when she returns home from preschool, she no longer hurls non sequitur quotes from it at me while she’s in her car seat, and she no longer corrects…

My Little Girl Turns Three Today. Here’s a Story About My Dad, Her ‘Peepaw’

In the summer of 1990, each day the weather and his schedule permitted, my dad and I would leave our rowhouse on Mellon Street and walk four blocks up Hays Street to the basketball courts lurking behind what was then Peabody High School. Once there, we’d park at one of the “good” hoops — either the hoop closest to the…

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