"I ran feral for five or six years in my early twenties. These are years my family knows little about. Oh, I sometimes share a few impressive incidents here and there: the solo bike ride across France against Le Mistral wind; my year as a topless dancer and drink hustler in San Francisco; that time in Yugoslavia when I picked up a sailor, was stranded on a Croatian island, and got bitten by a bat. And too many of my stories begin with, "I had this one boyfriend who..." My daughter Annie just rolls her eyes."
That's the beginning of this month's Red Diaper Dharma column over at Literary Mama.
It's about my wild youth. . . kind of.
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