Most daunting of all, how to sign my book for close friends? A writer ought to be clever, even on short notice.
Currently browsing tag
I never prayed for Steve to win the election, only to keep our sanity intact.
I can’t remember why I was only fine, rather than the usual great, but this makes an important point:
For a worrywart, it is challenging to come up with just one resolution when there are so many choices. So I have selected several from my 2012 grab bag to inspire you to worry less and indulge more in 2013.
But why isn’t anyone talking about campaign finance reform?
I didn’t see why that was so funny, until they caught their breath and told me . . .
I am a fan of Amtrak’s quiet car, yet I harbor love-hate emotions toward the sub-culture of those who journey in this vessel of alleged silence.
Why do we type
The addressee’s address
Above the salutation?
Does he or she
Need this information?
I got into our new box of SOS and shredded the pads and discovered how good the soap tasted. When Mommy came in and shrieked and I ran away. She scolded me. I pretended to be ashamed.
Suddenly a skinny, little girl—of perhaps seven years—broke free from her family and darted in front of my bicycle.
Even before 9-11 I wondered what I would do if confronted with the terrifying choice to either jump or burn. Ideas came to me this morning before I opened my eyes.
Recently, after reading about a breakfast club, my breakfast club envy flared up.
“Mom! That’s exactly why I’m terrified of sponges!” my daughter cried.
Like a bicycle tire that has just rolled over a shard of glass, the air began seeping out of my buoyant mood.
On a Sunday evening in New York I enjoyed a lovely dinner at the Union Square Café with my friend Jessica. I was happy with my pappardelle until two thirds of the way through my meal, at the next table, a waitperson placed in front of a trim young woman …
Do all my awesomes sound like I’m trying to seem young and cool—the language equivalent of someone my age wearing short, short skirts and skimpy tank tops?
When the car’s gas tank gets down to a quarter full, I begin to worry that if there is a terrorist attack, I won’t get very far in my car, so I then make haste to a gas station.
A 9th-grade philosopher—my boyfriend George—once said, “When you get a haircut, you never look better. At best, you don’t look worse.”
Keeping up with friends and making friends require effort. In general, there are the reacher-outers (me) and the reacher-outees (most people I know).
I regret not only some of my meddling on my children’s behalf, but also having kept a secret.
I don’t own a shredder, so I needed to come up with a shredding tip, a homemade way to keep someone from going into my trash and stealing my identity.
This story about saying what you mean when it comes time to paying or splitting the bill makes me sad.
If there’s a heaven,
Will they offer me a key,
Given how mean I was to Barbara Satinsky?
Will Barbara Satinsky forgive and invite me to tea?
I’m sorry, Barbara Satinsky. In 5th grade I had no reason to be a bully. In addition to being one of the leaders of Harum Scarum, the cliquey girls’ handball club, I had kind parents and good friends. So why did I take pleasure in playing a cruel trick on Barbara …
We already have Madoff, as well as Gingrich’s billionaire SuperPacSuperMacher Sheldon Adelson, so I’m glad that, even though Sandusky sounds like a Jewish name, he is not one of ours. Sandusky’s name is misleading, because the “sky” at the end could be construed as belonging to our tribe. But is …
Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without gradual. When my firstborn was an infant, I tried to imagine how I would ever entrust her to a kindergarten teacher.
I’m sitting at the breakfast table in my bra and panties, sipping melted ice water through a straw, pretending it’s iced tea. Casey, sprawled beside me, looks barely alive.
Each Nora Ephron romantic comedy makes the prospect of finding fun, funny romance possible and accessible for everyone.
I check out my perky housewife (minus the wife) reflection, and my mind flashes on memories of mom who was also once middle-aged and active.
Confession: I was a telemarketer. In 1976—when I became a stockbroker at Merrill Lynch—I had never heard the word telemarketing; we called it cold calling.