On Resilience

WHAT NOT TO DO

As a matter of habit, it is wise not to slam your finger in the car door.

Should such an unfortunate incident occur, certainly, do not be surprised if you scream and curse, blame your mother, husband, son, teetering dishwasher, unpredictable furnace, and gentle neighbor whose cats have nearly twice sauntered into your home (by now he knows of your cat phobia). Closing your fingers in the door of a car, any car, will render you an angry, whimpering ninny.

I feel qualified to offer these insights because I slammed my finger in the car door two weeks ago.

A Special Excerpt

Many readers know that I just completed a memoir titled Both Sides Now. The title is drawn from the iconic Joni Mitchell song. My story is a tale of love and loss, life and death. Everything at once.

Ride The Bumps

Hallelujah. The medicine must be working because today I managed to put money into the parking meter before simply walking away – like I did twice this past month to the tune of $50. Well ‘er slight confession: I did walk away but then somehow I remembered my mistake while only halfway down the block. The parking police have no mercy, this I know from experience.

Anticipating Fall

September is the season for renewal. Not just for the Jewish people who celebrate Rosh Hashanah today, the beginning of the Jewish New Year. But everyone, I think, feels an uptick of energy when summer turns to fall and the faint chill of autumn rustles our insides.

One Dark Night For Parents

Like the rest of the world (Batman included), I am appalled and saddened and frightened by last night’s killing spree at the Aurora Cinemas. You must understand…I live near this theater. I have been to this theater, alone, and with my young twins.

Twenty Ways

The twins and I have been visiting family in California. One day my cousin, Josetta, a FIERCE shopper, took me to The New Mart , a place she and other savvy women and girls flock to the last Friday of each month. My cousin is an art consultant (she owns Fresh Paint in Los Angeles) and brings this creative sensibility to fashion, particularly in how she accessorizes. I marvel at Josetta because I admire and severely lack such skills. But alright…this is why I shop with her.

Who are You Exactly?

This is the question forefront on my mind because overnight my children have crossed the threshold from well, children to full-fledged tweens. I wrote about this in a prior post, “Fragments of A Life.” But here I am writing about the same subject because it’s almost as if last week’s words spawned amorphous little people whose behaviors are strikingly unfamiliar.

Fragments of A Life

The title of this post is drawn from a chapter in my memoir. At the time, the events I described were specific, yet now the idea of fragments seems to fit the whole of my life.