Secret Ingredients

My grandmother was typically a pretty poor cook.  But then she’d knock out a Thanksgiving feast of such perfection that it might have gotten the European invaders to agree not to rip off the Natives.  (No, I mean REALLY agree.  And keep it.) WTF???  My mom, on the other hand, was usually a great cook.  Not so much in the lean years.  Actually I remember a lot of Spam in those years.  (No, not the unwanted mail; the mystery meat.)  Fried Spam.  Baked Spam.  Sandwich-Spam.  I will never again eat Spam. 

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Lesbianism – It Ain’t for Sissies Part 2

So there I was, entering high school, and along with all the other anxieties (‘Will anyone like me?’ ‘Can I pass geometry?’) was the worry that I might be a lesbian.  My mom had as much as told me I was after she caught me and a girlfriend kissing.  The gross tongue-stabbling I got from my first date pretty much sealed the deal.  Then another boy’s kiss also left me totally cold (I didn’t know it could be due to depression following a serious car accident and facial disfigurement…)