Good Luck, Really?!…
When something distasteful happens we all reach for words of comfort. Sunday, my daughter was victimized by a airborne slimy missile.
When something distasteful happens we all reach for words of comfort. Sunday, my daughter was victimized by a airborne slimy missile.
Call me a foodist, but I just cannot rationalize expensive Mexican food. You can dress it up, but an avocado is still an avocado.
I floated above the action for 140 glorious minutes. I sat in rarified space during the sublime production of the Broadway play, Farenelli and the King.
The world knows that Melania Trump, a virginal vision in white, was chauffeured Trumpless to the State of the Union.
My husband is taking flight, winging his way to the Middle East.
Omakase hits the upper west side. Holy Spanish Mackerel, Sushi Kaito is the real thing.
I gave myself a timeout. By 9am I had finished writing, cleaned the house, walked the dogs so I decided to indulge in moi. I bundled up to brace […]
I just cannot erase a Saturday Night Live skit from my consciousness.