Just a Little
September 15, 2005
Small Steps
by Marian Klatt
I don't know about you, but I was somewhat relieved to hear the death knell of the Atkins diet. A life without carbohydrates never made sense to me, and I have been baffled by the number of normally sane people who decided they wanted to live this way. The Atkins Corporation filed for bankruptcy a few weeks ago, and that can mean only one thing--yet another useless diet fad has passed. Read more.
Fall From Grace
by Janette Cole
The pedestal was golden and I was tarnished brass.
I had no idea. Read more.
Just a Little... Fish in a Tube?
I'm a collector. Usually people are more specific when using that word, telling you that they're coin collectors or doll collectors--or, heaven forbid, bill collectors!--but I can't narrow my kind of collecting down so easily. I'll collect just about anything. Often I'll find a particular item I like and I'll build an entire collection around it, even if I've never been especially interested in similar items before. All it takes is one little thing catching my eye and before you can say "Jack Robinson," I'm a dedicated collector. Read more.
Satisfaction
by Sarah Artis
Why is it that no matter what I've achieved in life, I always want just a little bit more? I don't need more--I know the difference between needs and wants. I want more. Read more.
Practice
by Deirdre Abrahamsson
I almost killed my father with a shotput. The scene of the almost-crime was Victory Field, a track complete with a throwing circle in Forest Park, Queens. My father got it in his head that because he did some athletics when he was in seminary in Ireland, he was qualified to help me improve my technique. Read more.
Four Secret Bread
by Anna Packham
It starts as just a little sketch-book of Dad's: Mum's feet pencilled as she slept, a pine cone sketched over and over again, the waves at Biarritz. The cartoons of the stray cat they called Dash because that was where she slept in the van, eventually finding bravery--or just other things to be scared of--so they woke to find her biting their toes. She lived to be twelve. The covers of the book are battered, the green of a bruised pear, the edges worn. It's matted with foreign stamps, apple labels, charity badges, football stickers--you can mark my family by it. Read more.
Just a Little...High
by Jodie
Ever since I was young I have been afraid of heights in a way that defies logic. The first memory I have of this crippling stupidity is from primary school, when I was unable to jump down from a wall that separated the high and the low playgrounds. The wall was about a metre high and posed no danger but I spent four years using the steps next to it and building my reputation as a "strange kid." Read more.