Dracula is standing on my neighbors’ front porch. He’s been there for the last few weeks staring past their Ravens flag, past their excitable Jack Russell terriers, past their chain link fence to some spot across the street. I imagine it’s the same spot where my dog stares, ever hopeful, waiting to catch a glimpse of the feral cats that live in a tool shed with a man named Danny behind my other neighbor’s house.
Baltimore-based fiction writer Jen Grow competes exceedingly well in her event — the mid-life crisis.
Michael Phelps’s history-making races were exciting to watch, but all his success is taking a toll on my self-esteem. It’s dangerous when you are having a mid-life crisis to compare yourself to others, to Michael Phelps, for instance, or to Olympians in general.