My, how times have changed.
There are two budding entrepreneurs in my neighborhood who occasionally have a lemonade stand close to my house. I always try to stop by, encouraging them with my words and my money. I’m not sure how much they actually sell, as we live in a pretty rural area, but these elementary-age ladies are showing early signs of the creativity, risk-taking and drive that makes self-starters successful.
However, when I stopped by over the weekend, there was something new on their table. When I asked what they were selling, the “boss lady,” who is probably 10-years-old said, “stress balls.” Stress balls? There on the table was a lineup of brightly colored balloons filled with cornstarch. Continue Reading
Last week I was trying to write an article that just wouldn’t flow. Over the course of the afternoon I must have looked in the fridge at least a dozen times, and I’m not exaggerating.
Because I’m working on changing my eating habits, I was acutely aware of what I was doing, so the last time I opened the fridge door, I finally closed my eyes, took a deep breath and asked myself, “What am I feeling right now?” Continue Reading
Today I transferred the contents of my safety deposit box to another bank. The contents contained things you might expect to find in a safety deposit box, but it was my diaries and old passport photos that reminded me of one of the scariest, yet most exhilarating times of my life. A lot for a 20-something to endure, much less to write about so matter-of-factly.
“7/2/82: Guido and Little Louie [my names for the men who steal our garbage and override our alarm system] are still with us.”
It’s still winter here in New York City. Even though it’s been a mild one, I still find that I’m stir crazy and waiting for spring. Little purple crocuses were just starting to bloom in Central Park, and then we got hit with a ton of snow. So discouraging.
I’ve had to find ways to keep my mind happy while being alone in the big city. Normally when it’s nice outside, I can go for long walks or head over to Central Park and hang with a wonderful collection of human beings, but it’s cold outside! I need a change of plans! Continue Reading
I grew up in the world of antiques and never left, sharing professional time as a dealer, auctioneer, lecturer and author. Invited to attend the very first US taping of Antiques Roadshow in 1996, I have since been to the majority, over 100 in all. Appraisers are chosen by WGBH in Boston, and are on their own dollar. There is no compensation for appearances, hotel or travel expenses, and all sign an agreement prohibiting commercial activity related to the show. This is PBS after all, and integrity is essential. I believe that is largely why (over 10 million viewers each week) love the show, and why we all keep coming back for more. Continue Reading
When I was unpacking my dishes and cookbooks that had been in storage for 10 years, I took a break to watch Rick Bayless’s PBS series, “Mexico One Plate at a Time.” A chef and restaurateur, Rick specializes in traditional Mexican cuisine. As he talked about the subtle, but complex dishes of Oaxaca, I was reminded of the many meals I’ve eaten in Mexico and Central America over the years.
One meal, in particular, I’ll never forget.
Everywhere I go these days, I’m surrounded by Nomophobes. Whether it’s at a luncheon, a business presentation, or a casual dinner, these addicts are showing their disrespect and lack of social grace in record numbers. This addiction has swept the nation! It’s the fear of being without your cell phone.
Nomophobia is the abbreviation for “no-mobile-phone phobia,” and it’s used to describe the anxiety we experience when we run out of the house without our phone, or we’re out of cell phone range, or the flight attendant says, “Turn off your mobile devices.” If you can relate, then you are a Nomophobe.
For two hours, I’ve been trying to get to my desk to work on my book, but first, there were things that had to be done. I walk around the house, barefoot, most of the time, so I can feel when the floor is dirty more than I can see it on this espresso-colored wood. This morning I felt it was particularly crumby from last night’s cornbread, so I had to sweep. And, I couldn’t leave the breakfast dishes in the sink, so I had do them, and the bed… Usually I make it the minute I get out of it, but this morning I needed coffee more than I needed a neat bed. Now I’m rushing to accomplish everything so I can sit down and write.
“What would happen if you just left that stuff until later,” you ask? Well, nothing, except I know I can’t–insert ‘won’t‘–do that. I’d worry about what was undone. Continue Reading
For March’s book club, we’re discussing Abby Fabiaschi’s novel, I Liked My Life. It’s a beautiful examination of grief, marriage, parenting, mother-daughter relationships, and aging. I’m thrilled the author is able to join us for Q&A. Continue Reading