Mary Novaria

A viral tweet from a millennial woman has sparked a debate about, of all things, bed linens.  Millennials* have been accused of killing off all kinds of things , including doorbells (because texting) and beer (in favor of wine and weed). Tweeter JesseLynn, a recent college grad has thrown down the gauntlet, laying claim to her generation’s cultural omnipotence, by declaring her cohort has killed off the top sheet. Yes, that smooth, flat rectangle of Egyptian cotton or percale that goes between you and your blanket or comforter has been deemed superfluous. It’s reminiscent of my college sweetheart (now my husband) who eschewed all sheets until I began to, ahem , stay over, and insisted upon a properly made bed. Never mind that the faded brown sheets, with a matching comforter, were a vestige from boyhood. They sported giraffes and zebras, so I dubbed them the “jungle sheets.” Maybe it’s a decent life hack. Millennials are a long way from menopau...

Instead of going to the gym, I got my cardio when a hummingbird flew into the house. These birds are so dumb, I thought. But then I remembered, I’m the dummy who routinely leaves the sliding doors open so the dog, a yellow Lab mix, can come in and out as she pleases. In other words, I’m lazy and I don’t want to get up to let Bella in and out every time she has a whim… which is about every ten minutes.  Leaving the doors open is one of the perks of living in a place without tons of insects. It’s a habit that never would have flown when we lived in Kansas. There, June bugs are bigger than hummingbirds. Like moths, they crash against the coach lights on the porch and invite themselves in if you so much as crack open the door to let the cat out. When the kids were young, we had what John called The Nightly Bug Watch. “Daddy! There’s a spider on the ceiling.” “Something’s buzzing in my room!” As if my night owls needed any more excuses not to go to sleep. ...

The third installment in my series on moving... Ask my husband or my college roommates and they’ll tell you--I’m neither a neatnik nor a clean freak. I often toss my clothes on a chair instead of hanging them in the closet and I generally iron on an as-needed basis. I don’t always make the bed (although I’m happy to rearrange the pillows after my husband does). I’ve probably done my kids a terrible disservice by not insisting on made-up beds before leaving the house in the morning. Please don’t judge me… I remember the battles with my parents to pick up my room. I did a great job shoving things under the bed or behind the closet door, despite my dad’s credo: “A place for everything and everything in its place.” Anything to retain TV privileges or get the car keys. My dad was a great one for sayings. He had a million of them and half were in Latin, like our family motto: Spectemur Agendo . Translation: “Let us be judged by our deeds” . There’s that word: Judge . May I ...