The Diary of a Gold-Digger

My trip began the night I left Temuco, the city in southern Chile where I’d been a Peace Corps volunteer for two years. I’d envisioned score...

From Cuzco, Kelly and I took a ten-hour train ride through the altiplano (the high plains) to Puno, which was at the time (this was 1994, I ...

I am going through some old emails and found this one from Primo. Remember the Bad Bacon Eater episode? He had forwarded me an email from Sl...

I feel as if I should be labeling these posts "Peace Corpse" or "Peace Corp." There are people who were in the Peace Cor...

On Sunday morning, when I wanted to bake cookies, Primo got all, "Whoooooo!" because he thinks the kitchen will turn into a big ...

When I was a Peace Corps volunteer, thanks to my country director's very liberal interpretation of the Peace Corps vacation policy, we g...

Remember how I told you about the summer we spent on my grandparents' farm? Did I tell you the part about how my grandfather rented a po...

I was hanging out with my dad and his cancer roommate, Jim. Jim had prostate cancer. It had metastasized . Prostate cancer confined to the p...

My dad was in the hospital. They'd diagnosed cancer and he'd started the chemo, which was brutal. His hair had started to fall out. ...

UPDATE: You guys, I am mortified to find that I already wrote about this story two years ago . I am losing either my memory or my mind or bo...