Please, Read My Book (Unless You're a Friend of My Sons) The New York Times/Motherlode January 3, 2016 I’m incredibly proud of the book I wrote. I hope it has some of the things I love when I read other people’s work. I want readers to find the story funny and sad; honest and relatable. My characters fall in and out of love, they try things they never thought they would and things they will never admit to. And some of these things are dirty. This did not have to be a dirty book. At several points, I could have faded to black, like a 1950s Hollywood movie. No, this didn’t need to be a dirty book. It just gets to be. Read more HERE |
I Wish I'd Known My Husband in Junior High
The Good Men Project March 28, 2017 Whatever innate chutzpah he was blessed with, I’m going to try to mimic it. There’s a local Minneapolis bar that serves as the gathering place for Kansas Jayhawk fans. The other night, as the Jayhawks played an Elite Eight match-up in the NCAA Championships, my husband and I ventured there. Imagine if someone offered every preschooler in the country free tickets to Disneyland and then gathered them all in the vestibule of Space Mountain. Now, double that. We got to the bar an hour before game time and found Standing Room Only. Read more HERE |
The Best Part of Being a Family is the Inside Jokes
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My husband and I were at a restaurant with two of our three sons recently when my youngest addressed me – although he made sure his dad and brother heard – “Should I tell the waitress why you’re sitting down?” We all erupted in laughter.
Two months before, I’d planned an overly ambitious trip to Costa Rica that involved crossing the country. Twice. In a week. The mileage sounded doable. I imagined speeding Dukes of Hazzard style across the countryside ignoring posted speed limits. What we ended up ignoring were posted minimums. Read more HERE |
Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Writers
HuffPost September 27, 2016 Lately I’ve been having accounting fantasies. I dream about a career where there is a definitive answer. Where numbers either add up or they don’t. That simple. My actual day job is writing the communications and marketing Read more HERE |
The Best Sex Of Your Marriage May Only Occur When You Have An Affair
Your Tango July 19, 2016 I met "S" researching a book about online romances. S had been married for seventeen years and had been engaging in an online flirtation for several months. Her online paramour spent a lot of time explaining to her why their romance wasn't actually cheating. He loved his wife. This was just fun. It didn't mean anything. He used to tell her if his wife found out, she'd forgive him, she'd understand it was just a little flirtation. But it was often. Sometimes every night for weeks at a time. Staying up late. Messaging each other at work. At home. Stolen moments. Intensity. Heady stuff. The way S described it, well... I understood how she had gotten lost in it. Read MORE |
How David Cassidy Influenced my Children's Bilingual Education
Great Moments in Parenting May 10, 2016 When I was in Junior High I read Tiger Beat (think People Magazine for 12-year-olds) cover to cover, going over the David Cassidy features at least three times before flipping through the rest. I remember one article, though, about Jodie Foster. It said she went to a school where they spoke only French. All reading assignments, testing, lunchtime conversation, etc. were in a foreign language. Read MORE |
Why My Sons Don't Call Each Other On Their Birthdays
Parent.Co April `13, 2016 My middle son called the other day and told me he tried to call his older brother but there was no answer. “I suppose he’s out with his friends,” I said, “celebrating his birthday.” “Today’s his birthday?” my middle son asked. “Isn’t that why you called?” “Nope. I just called to say hi.” The only thing nicer than knowing that my son had called his brother to wish him a happy birthday was knowing that my son had called his brother for no particular reason at all. Read more HERE |
Writing and Other Things my Children Don't Want to Discuss - Creative Life
January 31, 2016 You’ve heard of people who find their calling late in life, like the 92-year-old woman who discovered a gift for painting portraits, or the great-grandpa who took up the banjo on his 80th birthday. I didn’t have to wait quite that long. I realized my special talent just shy of my fiftieth birthday. I write erotica. And I write it pretty darn well. Read more HERE |
My Mother’s Dementia: What We Both Lost
NextAvenue January 19, 2016 I spent last night in the ER with my mom. She’s 88. She’s becoming frail and her memory is fading. She can’t see (the kind of macular degeneration that isn’t treatable) and she can’t hear well (too stubborn to get a hearing aid). Her confusion is becoming a daily companion rather than an infrequent visitor. Read more HERE |
My Jewish December |
My Jewish December
Perfection Pending December 21, 2015 My Dad grew up Jewish in a Catholic neighborhood. His parents owned the corner store, making him a popular kid. His mom would give him a piece of salt water taffy or a cherry licorice dollar to share with any kids tagging along with their harried mothers. My Dad tells me he knew he was Jewish, but that didn’t mean much. He was just like the Christian kids. He liked stickball and looking at Green Hornet comic books. And he was just as rich as they were, meaning not at all. My Dad was born in 1927, so his childhood knew no extravagance. Read more HERE |