Mary Phillips-Sandy

Here’s a tip for formal summer funeral wear: Find a black cotton dress with long sleeves that roll up and button themselves into short sleeves so you can stay cool in the muggy transitions between funeral home and church and cemetary, warm in the over-air-conditioned country club where the buffet luncheon takes place. I found [...]

When someone you miss is an ocean away, approximately 10,000 kilometres from home, and in the throes of a dissertation defense, and battling a Kafka-esque visa misunderstanding, and  (just for good measure!) suffering from the swine flu, your first thought — upon noticing that Birthday Season has rolled around — will involve a credit card [...]

It’s hard to see at this size, but one of those signs says “grilled chicken.” I can’t muster the energy to get worked up about “illegals,” but I do think that people who order grilled chicken at a place like this should be deported, maybe from the planet.

Speaking of blogs and blogs about things, this evening I learned that my uncle — who is my role model in just about every respect — has been, for some time, contributing to an anonymous group blog. This is may be more interesting if you know that my uncle is an actor whose work you’ve [...]

…identify ‘em all and I’ll buy you a hot dog and a box of sparklers.

Item! Carrie Tryharder is running a sweet summer contest, and you have until Friday, July 3 to enter.
Details are as follows:
The task: Turn this spam headline into something entertaining: Police end funereal striptease acts.
The format: Short story, comic, photo essay, pop tune, whatever, as long as it is bloggable
The prize: A box of awesome [...]

Well well, remember the second tag on this post? Yeah, looks like someone I work with was on that concept months ago. (Click the link and scroll down to resolution #7.) And no, I hadn’t noticed that post before, but it’s pretty clearly a sign from the universe.
ps. Mary, did you wake up this morning [...]

All day long people have been chatting and Facebooking and Twittering and starting phone calls with discussions of the rain, and yet no one has taken the initiative to flap-ball-change down the street, at least not in Portland, at least not that I’ve seen.

File under: personal heroes.