The Cookie Critic

Every Monday, while I give piano lessons, my kids go to my parents’ house. And every Monday, when they arrive, there are freshly baked chocolate chip cookies waiting for them on Mom’s stove. All three of my kids have said that just knowing those cookies will be...

We Can’t Even Order Bagels Together

Last Sunday morning, Ken and I made a spontaneous stop at a bagel shop. As we waited in line, we chatted cheerfully about our plans for the day–happy to be together. But when it was our turn… well, that’s when the happy-go-lucky turned to...

Dear 17-Year-Old Me, (re: the MIRROR)

Dear Seventeen-Year-Old Me,Let’s talk about the mirror. Sometimes when you look in it, you’re disgusted. You think you’re fat or ugly or covered in pimples. You’ve already started to experiment with your eating habits and your hair and makeup.  You spend hours in your...

Dear 17-year-old Me, (re: BOYS)

Dear Seventeen-Year-Old Me,Let’s talk about boys. It’s going to be rough for a while. You’re going to crave the attention of boys, but mostly because you want to know that you’re OK. You want to know that you’re pretty enough, smart enough, and fun enough… And...

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