When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time indoors. I was bookish, despised sports, and prone to vicious sunburns so you wouldn’t find me running, jumping, or climbing trees. I wasn’t shy, not at all, but I was much more interested in reading books or watching TV shows about wild adventures than actually having wild adventures. My favorite shows were the ones with strong female leads — women kicking ass and looking great while they did. Spies, detectives, superheroes, yes please

Is anyone listening to Mike Birbiglia’s new podcast, Working It Out? On each episode, he speaks with a comedian and gets them to share work-in-progress jokes and respond to off -the-cuff prompts. While I was listening today, I was struck by one of the prompts. It struck me as a good one-inch picture frame: Is there a particular smells that reminds you of your childhood? I introduce you to: The Smells of My Formative Years... Early elementary school: freshly photocopied paper

The other night my sister, Kim, shared a memory. We were kids- she was probably 14 and I was 10. It was a Saturday night in the summer and we were down the shore. Our parents were, as usual, working at the bar up at home so the older kids were babysitting us. But technically, we were old enough to be left home on our own while the older kids were out at the bars. A birthday, maybe my 10th? Even though we were in the dog days of summer, Mom always bought me a winter coat. I'd

My first birthday. There's a lot to unpack in this photo so you may want to download it. I mean, so many clowns, right? I slept like a log last night. It must have been the combination of the birthday love and champagne. Today, I’m basking in the afterglow — making no plans and just letting the day unfold. I even took a nap! I’m unwinding. I had such a wonderful birthday — totally different from what I’d planned, but maybe even better. On one of the several zoom calls of the

It’s a beautiful thing to be at the seashore on my birthday. I’ve spent so many birthdays here. And this year is so strange and quiet. A couple of weeks ago I was mourning the loss of the big planned birthday blowout. But now I’m happy that it’s been a small and special celebration over the last few days. My sisters, Lynda and Patti, came down and we spent the day at the beach. It was hot and the flies were fierce (Lynda said, “That’s because it’s a LAND BREEZE.” and she show

It’s 11:16pm. In 46 minutes, I will be 50 years old. It’s weird and cool and exciting and UGH and WOW. But the thing that’s on my mind is this: I don’t know how to ride a bike. Does this count? This isn’t some deep, dark secret. It’s actually on my list of go-to fun facts to use in corporate icebreakers, along with “raised in a bar” and “rode an elevator 33 floors with JFK, Jr.” I’ve even bonded with other people who (GASP!) never learned to ride. I really have no idea why I

I haven’t been sleeping well the last few months. Between the pandemic, the sick dog, and the election, I guess I have to make room somewhere for the generalized anxiety that has me reliving the time that one of the nuns hurt my feelings in High School.* So, between the hours of 3am and 6am, I am frequently awake and ruminating. I’ve tried a bunch of things to get myself back to sleep: meditation, medication, reading, weighted blankets, breath work, journaling. None of those

A fellow storyteller posted this great essay about New York City on Facebook this week. It was in response to that d-bag hedge fund guy who proclaimed New York to be “dead” and the swift online backlash of irate city-folk (present company included) who told that guy to go to Cleveland. The essay is so perfect I joked that I might just copy and paste it on this blog. Alas, I’m left to write my own stuff and not shamelessly plagiarize from others. I feel grateful I didn’t have

One-inch picture frame: Going the to the seashore Even in their leanest financial years, my parents always managed to make sure the whole family spent a week or two each summer at the Jersey shore. Dad sang at nightclubs in Wildwood and Sea Isle while Mom wrangled us kids into a rental house in Stone Harbor or Avalon. Dad would send us down the shore on a Saturday morning while he stayed behind to work at the bar, usually joining us sometime Sunday afternoon.* Mom would rous

The great thing about writing these blog essays is the conversations they open up with friends and family. I love the comments but also the texts and (gasp!) phone calls from friends who want to chat about something I’ve written. One of those was just today. A friend called me up to say she really liked that I often mention the tv shows and movies that influenced me when I was growing up. We chatted about being “raised by TV, movies, pop music.” Her question: Why does everyon