Pirate Mom

I wasn’t raised to swashbuckle. When I birthed two boys, it did not take long for me to realize I was going to have to learn how to do so. As they dove off of staircases, thinking they could fly like Buzz Lightyear; received concussions trying to clamber out of their crib; and split chins…

The one that got away. Thank God.

Ladies, do you remember the college crush that eluded you? The lead singer in a band, with long hair, a voice that could set hips afire and a faded jean jacket that he wore better than any other gorgeous man on God’s green earth? Not that I have anyone in particular in mind. I’m sure…

Here cometh the mojo master

He. Makes. Me. Feel. Fabulous. And he’s gay, so not in the way you might think. I’m talking about my old grad school buddy, Andrew. Everybody needs an Andrew. I’ve previously written about Patrick, my fairy godmother when I first moved to Chicago as a twenty-something.  Patrick took me from Ohio college grad to sophisticated…

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may . . .

. . . unless your aged gardener has a crush on you. In that case, learn to love hothouse flowers and stay the hell out of sight. I offer you this pearl of wisdom free of charge. Well, it’s free to you. I paid for it dearly. We’ll call him Carlos. Names have been changed…