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.
Often, searches such as “mommy died today” land on my blog because of the post I had written on the day my mother died.
At Alcatraz, a former prisoner spoke. He said those who obsessed about getting out “didn’t make it.” Cognitive Therapy would have helped.
He is always on time.
She is sometimes late.
He ends the session after exactly 45 minutes.
She ends the session when we are finished talking,
After the sun slides behind the ash trees in my backyard, my heart thumps with anticipation. It’s finally time for GETTING THINGS DONE.
Each of my girls could keep some of me in a gorgeous mosaic urn, personalized with photos under glass beads, like the ones my friend Sybil Sage makes for ashes of your cat or your mother.
I am not part of the walk-and-text culture. I’m barely part of the text culture. But as a writer, who lives alone, my laptop has become one of my best friends.
When your daughter is in Colombia and hasn’t tweeted all day, is it every mother’s tweetmare that her kid is locked in the trunk of a sedan?
My girlfriend Bev and I formed our own two-member fan club for James Vincent Peatross, a Bandstand regular and frequent dance contest winner.
With the kerfuffle about Ann Romney having been a stay-at-home mom, I thought I would put in my two cents about stay-at-home moms.
Easter Egg Roll 2012 observations: Most children seemed to be having a swell time, the parents were the happiest people there, and President Obama’s khakis were a perfect fit.
Dear Susan, I should be working now but instead I’m writing to you. You see, I’m a procrastinator. Please help me stop putting things off! Signed, Puttingthingsoff in Peoria Dear PiP, I’m so glad you asked. I am great at procrastination. Here is one thing I do to procrastinate: I …
Worry is addictive, plain and simple. It hits the same pleasure center of the brain as alcohol and other addictive substances. If you are able to control your intake of other addictive substances, then you can control worry, now that you know how addictive it is.
Ever since reading about Dutch Airline KLM’s new program that allows passengers to choose seatmates, using Facebook and LinkedIn profiles, I’ve been contemplating who my ideal seat mate should be. For a worrywart this whole idea is a great thing.
I was happy that my mind was still logical enough
Early in our relationship, on warm Friday evenings, my boyfriend Steve (who later became my husband) and I frequently squished onto a Long Island Railroad car to spend summer weekends with his parents. On one such trip a muffled siren began to blare. I turned to Steve and shouted, “Sounds …