How to Keep Warm in the Summer


Yes, you read that right. WARM in the SUMMER. I am sitting at my desk right now, eating my lunch and freezing my gazongas off. And it’s 85 degrees in the greater Twin Cities area right now, headed for 94 later this afternoon.

Office workers are all too aware that summer means air conditioning cranked up to levels capable of crystallizing our snot. Although the sun may graciously warm those lucky enough to sit near windows, most of us cube farmers spend our days shivering as we type.

Don’t get me wrong. I am beyond grateful for the AC. If I had an outdoor gig, or worked in an electric-fan-only situation, I’d be far, far grumpier. But the fact is, it puts a major cramp in the summer Sal-style to work inside a refrigerator on days when I want to wear my sundresses and sleeveless tops. read more

A Letter to My Body – Part 2

This is my body.

This is a photo of my body that I purposely took myself, and took without employing any photo-posing tricks to make it look different/better. This is a photo of my body after I’ve just eaten a cheeseburger the size of a basketball. And a mess of fries. This is a photo of my body that has not been altered in any way. (OK, I tried to clone out the fire extinguisher, but it was too damn hard.) This is a photo of my body in an outfit that does not emphasize my best physical features. read more

A Letter to My Body – Part 1

Earlier this year, blogher.com invited its members to compose letters addressed to their own bodies. It doesn’t look like the site has had an overwhelming number of takers, but I’m certainly intrigued by the concept. (AMENDED! There is a HUGE list of takers! I’m #140 – just scroll to the bottom of the blogher page that I’ve linked to above to read some astonishing letters.)

When I was in middle school – a supersmart goody-two-shoes suffocating under the awkward bloat of adolescence – I would daydream about being a disembodied brain. I knew I was smart, and I knew that intelligence had enduring value. But faced with physical tasks, any trace of self-confidence vanished. I hated gym, never participated in any sports, and nearly barfed the first time I was made to run a mile. Couldn’t I just put my brain in a jar? Couldn’t I just discard the cumbersome shell of my body and let my powerful intellect roam unencumbered? I remember being terrified of French kissing my first boyfriend because I just couldn’t stand myself. I didn’t want to get that intimate with someone else because it meant acknowledging the importance of my own body. I simply wasn’t ready to do that. read more