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"Homesick" appears in the center spread of the 12.19.07 issue of Seven Days. It looks fantastic in print, so pick up a copy.

"Homesick" was written and drawn by Joseph Lambert, a student at the amazingly cool Center for Cartoon Studies in White River Junction.

After bugging me for years, my right hand finally decided to kill me. It wrapped around my neck like a python while I slept, then slowly started to strangle me. I woke up coughing uncontrollably, unable to breathe. My left hand had to fight to pry it off. I sat on all 10 of my bickering digits and used my big toe to dial 911.... Read more

John and Happy had lived together for five years. They were very busy people. They lived in the suburbs and worked in the city and had as many friends as a busy life would permit. When they decided to go ahead and get married (in October, the only month with a little bit of room on both their calendars), they started searching for the right person to do the job.... Read more

They're good boys, but that doesn't mean I owe them squat. Certainly not a puppy, even though they're the perfect age for a puppy. That's what Ron, my husband, said, choosing to make this observation at the dinner table last night, right in front of them. Ryan is seven and a half; Blaine is six; Ron vacillates.... Read more

Monday, December 6, 7:14 a.m. Happy birthday to me.

It's been a good year. I'm feeling feisty and go-getting in that über rriot-babe sort of way. I've been published, promoted, positively reviewed and even satirized. Best of all, I lost 12 pounds from sheer self-delight. Found self-esteem and lost my ass all at the same time.

So. I have a plan. Well, actually, I have a flaw. And because I have this flaw, I have a plan. At long last, I am going to learn to Swallow.... Read more

The day before Sharon's mother's funeral, rusty water fell from the ceiling onto the kitchen table. "The house itself is weeping," She thought. But it was only an ordinary plumbing crisis in the third-floor bathroom. The big old house that had sat so empty these last few years was once again filled with family -- Sharon and her husband Michael and her sister Judy and Judy's various daughters and their various husbands, all switching on lamps and forcing faucets that had grown stiff from lack of use.... Read more

TALK ABOUT TEMPTATION.

"Excuse me?"

"Temptation. The things that make you want to . . ." Barbara Walters leaned forward six inches ". . . be bad." She stopped just short of leaving the bubble of good light that surrounded her chair.

George held fast to the arms of his own chair, trying to stay calm. Trying to stay focused. How had he gotten here?... Read more

TALK ABOUT TEMPTATION.

Unless I misread the body language -- and I'd always been pretty good at reading body language -- my interview subject was propositioning me.

"Listen, Lariss," he said, smoky eyes catching a glint of late-afternoon light through his hotel-room window.

I didn't care for the way he'd taken to dropping the "a" at the end of my name. Hollywood people did things like that sometimes.... Read more

"TALK ABOUT TEMPTATION", the President's analyst instructed.

George shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "You want me to talk about temptations? Sure, I get 'em all the time in my job."

Out of the corner of his eye, George watched the doctor put down his clipboard and open up a desk drawer, then another.

George started to talk about his temptations.... Read more

TALK ABOUT TEMPTATION.

When I got home from hauling logs out of the forest on a sled, my calves burning and my eyes tearing, I found my sister Olive cranking the generator under the porch. It hadn't started yet, but she was determined and had taken off her mittens for better traction.

"Hurry and hook up the old Tube, Clementine!" she said. "Sarah downtown found movies in her attic, and I swapped three blankets for the lot."... Read more