I have a new story up on buy modafinil chemist warehouseabout craving corn out on the water…
It was a beautiful day. The weather was warm. The sun was hidden behind a cloud but the water was calm and it was late morning, a lovely time to take a paddle board out.
Paddle boarding is the sport I have come to in middle age. Easier than surfing, less rigorous than kayaking, a paddle board lets you glide through the water with a modicum of effort. You stand on the board, suck in your stomach, and paddle. Little is required of you except balance. You rarely break a sweat as you take in the view. Most weekend mornings, my husband and I take paddle boards out, and circle each other in a quiet lagoon. Sometimes, we climb into a kayak and paddle out to the bay, but when we do that, my husband sits in the back and does most of the paddling and I feel like the princess he suspects I am. This morning, at 11 a.m., my younger son and his friend decided they wanted to go kayaking. My husband and I each took out a paddle board so we could keep an eye on them. The kids immediately headed out of the lagoon and into the bay. My husband and I followed suit…
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I have a new story up on buy modafinil denmark about feeding a crowd in summer.
We’ve been spending our weekends at the Jersey Shore this summer and that means company. Between the laundry and the grocery shopping, the wet bathing suits falling off the rail into the bushes, the making up of the pullout couch, the root-beer cans piling up in bathroom wastepaper baskets, and the moldy towels hidden under the beds, sometimes it feels as if my husband and I are running a B&B. Today, I’d had just about enough and told my younger son and his friend to go walk the mile to the deli in the mid-day heat and buy themselves lunch. My treat. But over the weekend, I was feeling more hospitable. Both my sons had friends sleeping over, which meant four hungry teenage boys. My husband’s aunt and uncle were coming for dinner and my in-laws were coming the next day for lunch. The sun was out, the weather was glorious, and because it’s summer, everyone was sitting around not doing much except waiting to be fed. Sometimes this makes me crazy but most of the time I love it.
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I have a new story up on HuffPo about cooking and coping with sad news.
One of my oldest friends called me yesterday. She lived 10 minutes away from Robin Williams and wanted to talk about him. She’d recently seen him at a bookstore and one of her kids had gone to school with his stepdaughter. My friend and I are alike in many ways, but perhaps in one that is most important: suicide hits too close to home.
My friend’s brother had killed himself and my father had tried twice. We both knew about suicides and suicide attempts. We had worked hard to find ways not to go off the rails ourselves. Years ago, we had seen each other every day when we worked together as reporters at Business Week. But now we’re on different coasts. We don’t talk much. Maybe we see each other once a year. When I saw it was her calling, I immediately picked up the phone. “I put off my run so I could talk to you,” she said. “Can we talk about Robin Williams?”
I have a new story up on HuffPo about letting your children go off into the world—and restraining yourself from bringing them lunch on the job.
My older son has a weekend job restocking supermarket shelves. No one calls him by his name; they summon him by yelling “stock!” He walks around with a clipboard, checking to see what’s run out and is constantly scrambling to replace the diet Raspberry Snapple. He’s still new at the job and though he knows he is allowed to help himself to as much as fountain soda as he wants, no one told him the rules for eating lunch. The day before, he had texted us, asking us to bring him something to eat…
I have a new story up on HuffPo. This story of buttered coffee generated a lot of buzz on HuffPo and eventually made its way into various other publications. The New York Times covered it on 12/12/14. I’m very glad I wrote about it when I did!
You are not going to be cooking for yourself on Mother’s Day. You are not going to be making restaurant reservations either. You’re going to let the people who made you a mother take care of that.
You are, however, going to make yourself one hell of a cup of coffee, because any day that calls for celebration also calls for a little liquid pick-me-up. Continue reading