My Cardboard Balcony

Four Nights With In-Laws by Belinda Roddie Seders, Easter eggs, and birthday cakes - what a lovely stay this is! Theories over glasses of cider and half cuts of rib-eye steak. I no longer have to worry about first impressions (God knows how bad the first impression was). I'll hold you in my arms each night when the movie is over and the wine is drained, dreaming of gazebo weddings and car rides to the coast, waiting for a visit to aquariums and hotels. Past, present, and future colliding all at once, time slowing just enough for us to savor it - in all its bitter, salty, fishy, and fruit tart glory.

The freckles in your complexion form constellations that burn when I touch them. Orion's belt is made of ice. It freezes the skin around my cuticles, to the point in which I am afraid of frostbite. There is a pattern to the contours of your face - the dips create valleys, the peaks your own personal mountains. There is no snow on those slopes, but they are smooth enough to let me descend without tumbling and bruising my knees.

"Who's the owner of this store?" the crotchety old man demanded, placing his gloved hands on his hips. I sighed and turned away from the Easter display that I was beginning to take down. "That would be me," I declared. The man frowned. "You?" he asked. "Can't be. You're young, and...and feminine." I blinked. "So by your logic, only people of your age and gender can own a shop?" He said nothing. I silently pointed toward the door. "Get out."

by Belinda Roddie Sherman, how many times have I told you not to do that? It's a rhetorical question, kid. Sixteen. Sixteen times over the past two months. And yet you won't listen. I know you feel your most comfortable when you do this, but you know I don't like explaining it to the neighbors. They see you from their windows, you know. Singing along to your iPod as you wash the dishes or cook, sashaying your hips while you wear that frilly floral apron. My apron. I just might gain twenty pounds so you can't fit into my dresses anymore. I'll buy clothes that are too big for you, so you can't wear them. I'll throw away all my good jewelry so you don't steal my pearls anymore. You remember Harriet, your next door neighbor? She goes by Harry now. It's awful. She's starting to grow stubble. She smokes. She drinks! She looks more masculine than your own father. And now you're going in the exact opposite direction. Like an uncooperat...

I could see the copper bristling from the broken cord, threatening to electrocute anyone who touched it. It was a live wire - no doubt about it. Now it was a matter of turning off the machine without getting everyone involved angry. Yes, ladies and gentleman - I had to turn off the most popular game in the arcade because some properly sized rodent had gnawed on the cord and exposed the raw, vulnerable metals underneath. This was going to be "fun."

Good evening! I am typing from my fiancée's family home, where we have started a weeklong vacation that, in my opinion, was way overdue. We'll be spending three days there until we drive to Monterey and spend two nights there in a (hopefully) lovely hotel room. On the itinerary (in my head) are a nice dinner, an aquarium visit, and just some good old-fashioned time spending with the love of my life. I'm really looking forward to being a part of my first Seder, as well as celebrating Easter and my future mother-in-law's birthday. It's so nice to take things easy and see my fiancée relax after working so hard at her job. I know she can get really overwhelmed at times, so I think this is good for her. I'd say more, but that's about it. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone!

He Didn't Care by Belinda Roddie How am I supposed to watch television when you're crying?