On Sunday mornings, I can usually be found in a bathrobe with wild hair and a cup of hot coffee, staring into my closet. I dig through the denim and cottons I wear all week, and grab a dress or skirt, and a pair of low heels, hoping I won’t be limping in the next…
self-image
Sharing Happiness
My phone rang this week, and for once, it wasn’t my kids or my husband or my mother or my carpool partner or my in laws or one of those pre-recorded doctor’s appointment confirmation messages. “Hey Lisa, what have you been up to?” she asked. I was dumbfounded. I had not received a purely social…
The Sandwich Queen
About a million years ago, I had a career. I had a briefcase, an office, a secretary, and a view from the 24th floor. I did research, argued motions, interviewed clients and attended the firm holiday party. My name was on the wall in the lobby. But then, when I least expected it, something happened….
Farewell to Rinse and Spit
I placed the magazine nonchalantly in my lap and covered it with my purse. With one hand pretending to grope for a tissue, and the other hand secretly holding the desired page, I began to tug. I stopped, fearing the man across from me heard the initial tear, but just then, the doors to the…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets