A Little Talked About Sign of Aging

Here’s the thing. My best features come from my Romanian roots. I’ve always enjoyed having dark hair and blue eyes. I am psyched that my “gray” hair is silver, some people pay big bucks for that. Dracula was Romanian, and by most accounts was a particularly handsome man-thing.

That being said, we Romanians are a very hairy people. My beloved Grandpa not only had follicles growing out of his ears, but in his later years his lobes looked like small woodland creatures. My stunningly gorgeous mother had quite the collection of… CONTINUE READING >>

Here’s the thing. My best features come from my Romanian roots. I’ve always enjoyed having dark hair and blue eyes. I am psyched that my “gray” hair is silver, some people pay big bucks for that. Dracula was Romanian, and by most accounts was a particularly handsome man-thing.

That being said, we Romanians are a very hairy people. My beloved Grandpa not only had follicles growing out of his ears, but in his later years his lobes looked like small woodland creatures. My stunningly gorgeous mother had quite the collection of… CONTINUE READING >>

Un-nesting. Could it be Blissfully Real?

I’m constantly searching for material that dispels my internal anti-mantra, “You are a bad mommy. You shouldn’t be so happy that your children have left the nest. You are a bad…” In my latest frantic search, I came across a theory that I love. Un-nesting.

Suzanne Koven, M.D. writes in her post for Psychology Today entitled “The Un-Nesting Instinct”:

Celia’s story started out sounding pretty familiar-a cliché almost. She was fiftyish and going through menopause and, in addition to the weight gain and hot flashes, she found herself irritable and sad. Her children, she told me, were a particular source of sadness. “You mean because they’re growing up, moving away?” I asked. ‘No,’ answered Celia, ‘Because they’reCONTINUE READING >>

I’m constantly searching for material that dispels my internal anti-mantra, “You are a bad mommy. You shouldn’t be so happy that your children have left the nest. You are a bad…” In my latest frantic search, I came across a theory that I love. Un-nesting.

Suzanne Koven, M.D. writes in her post for Psychology Today entitled “The Un-Nesting Instinct”:

Celia’s story started out sounding pretty familiar-a cliché almost. She was fiftyish and going through menopause and, in addition to the weight gain and hot flashes, she found herself irritable and sad. Her children, she told me, were a particular source of sadness. “You mean because they’re growing up, moving away?” I asked. ‘No,’ answered Celia, ‘Because they’reCONTINUE READING >>

The Hippest Public Bathroom in the USA

Jackpot! A flush with greatness!

Shiny and adorned in black and green art deco (including the toilets and urinals) this luxurious loo boasts a shoeshine station and a vintage phone that calls up the front desk – just in case… CONTINUE READING >>

Jackpot! A flush with greatness!

Shiny and adorned in black and green art deco (including the toilets and urinals) this luxurious loo boasts a shoeshine station and a vintage phone that calls up the front desk – just in case… CONTINUE READING >>

Free Money!

One day while we were walking to the grocery store, Veronica looked down on the side of the road and, lo and behold, a five was laying there. A few more steps and there was a twenty! Here’s the deal, once you spot money laying around, you automatically look for more… CONTINUE READING >> 

One day while we were walking to the grocery store, Veronica looked down on the side of the road and, lo and behold, a five was laying there. A few more steps and there was a twenty! Here’s the deal, once you spot money laying around, you automatically look for more… CONTINUE READING >> 

That Time I was Smote by God

On a blustery New York City morning, I executed my first face plant.

The sun had just peeked out after a torrential rain and began to form those bands of brilliant, glorious Jesus Rays streaming through the clouds.

Next thing I knew, I lay prostrated before a church in that special kind of pain that only landing square on one’s schnozz can bring, surrounded by scattered partyware glistening in the sun like a golden calf.

But I probably deserved it… CONTINUE READING

On a blustery New York City morning, I executed my first face plant.

The sun had just peeked out after a torrential rain and began to form those bands of brilliant, glorious Jesus Rays streaming through the clouds.

Next thing I knew, I lay prostrated before a church in that special kind of pain that only landing square on one’s schnozz can bring, surrounded by scattered partyware glistening in the sun like a golden calf.

But I probably deserved it… CONTINUE READING