I Am My Own Wife

My brain has been sucked out by the wearer of the bib, so no wordy posts about Victorian literature or culture are on the horizon. I am begi...

After a four-hour tour of Babies-R-Us, followed by a quick stop at Target for diapers and a nursing tank, my brain is a bit fried. What'...

A sweet and well-intending graduate student, another Victorianist four years behind me in the PhD program who aims to finish her degree some...

"What a world of gammon and spinnage it is, though, ain't it!" "What do you mean, Miss Mowcher?" said Steerforth. ...

Here's a little something I sewed up yesterday. I decided it merited its own blog post. I will be academic and feministy again tomorrow,...

Confinement, it turns out, is just another word for Waiting. A LOVELY passage from Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children comes to mi...

It has been just over two weeks of bed rest; forced confinement affords me the opportunity to catch up on my reading and start some new craf...