I’ll have you know that my daughter’s nasty bald patch on the back of her head has been growing in nicely this month.
I am in love. With the Barefoot Contessa.
She makes chopping corn from the cob look like the most beautiful task in the world and her kitchen is what dreams are made of.
Here is my little clown baby, dressed in her crazy polka dot pants, feeling gravity’s pull.
I am usually somewhat disappointed in the lack of misguided Google searches that end up on my statcounter. There’s the odd one, but for the most part the readers who come here intend to.
When I pulled into the driveway and heard Van Morrison blaring through the windows it became clear to me just how very different Daddy-time is than Mommy-time.
The meeting went well. The editor seemed genuinely interested in my ideas and promised to get back to me after giving my proposal some thought.