Tim Rogers

Tim Rogers and I had our first fight today. At least according to him. I would have called it an opportunity for an optional correction, or at most a grammatical disagreement. (My eyes weren’t blinking rapidly. That’s how people who know me know things have escalated to a dangerous level.) It involved the July cover. Granted, Tim was under a great deal of stress. His roof is leaking, he had to put on a blazer for his ed note photo, and he was listening to a food safety seminar online (still not sure why) while submitting an entry for a magazine award.

Tim Rogers requested that I, D Magazine’s new associate editor, write a post to introduce myself to FrontBurner readers. He usually does a Q&A with new hires, but he ordered a "Dusty" (PBR + whiskey) during our City Tavern lunch with the edit staff and, I can only imagine, is feeling the effects. What can I say about myself of any interest? Not much. Aside from some freelance writing, the past three years of my life have largely been spent as a stay-at-home mom. I could mention that I went to high school with Courtney Kerr. (Insider info: She was a cheerleader, hung out with the cool kids, but was too tall and gawky to attract much male attention.) But even that's a stretch. So instead, I am going to imagine tonight's conversation with my husband, whose name is Brandon, but whom Tim keeps referring to as Steve.