Every summer, the beaches of this nation are scattered with people who wander slowly, look quite seriously down at their feet, and bend over frequently. Despite appearances, they are actually not contemplating the prognoses of their bunions, admiring their arches, or watching their toenails grow. For some reason, these people are compelled to search the…
Book Review
Indispensable Me
“Mom! Can you help me?!” I hear that phrase throughout the day, invariably bellowed from some other room in the house while I’m trying to cook, clean, answer emails, put away groceries, fold laundry, take a shower, write my column, or watch a DVRed episode of The Bachelorette while savoring an afternoon cup of microwaved…
Attack of the Killer Teens
This week, my youngest child turned thirteen, making me the mother of three teenagers. For those readers who have raised (i.e., survived) teenagers, I could end my column here. There’s no need for lengthy anecdotes. Upon reading my first sentence, other parents of teens most likely heaved a collective groan, and instantly understood the prickly…
Over the river, and off the Beltway
“Grams, could we make brownies?” my daughter asks, already knowing the answer. “Is the Pope a Catholic?” replies my husband’s mother, smiling up at Anna, who has at least a half a foot on her now. Short but feisty. Born of Irish heritage. Humbly brought up in Ho-Ho-Kus, New Jersey. Married fifty-three years to a…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets