Author, Journalist, Pop Folklorist
I’d never been described as low-key until I moved to Greece at age 28. In the U.S., I could be shy or bookish at times, but I always thought of myself as having a mild flair for the dramatic. Once, when my mother tried to stop my whining by saying, “Well, what are you going…
Read more about We’ll Always Have Granada: A Less-than-Dramatic Farewell
Ashton Kutcher—what were you thinking, dude? I know it’s hard to stay grounded when you’re constantly surrounded by celebrities and security. But what part of you thought it would be a good idea to put on “brownface” and play a creepy would-be Bollywood producer named Raj lmaking dubious use of a video dating service, all…
It’s been a big week in our house. Not just because we graduated from hypnobirthing, had our infant CPR class and welcomed the first of the three grandmothers flocking like fairy godmothers to Florida to await the birth of the baby Amalía (we’re ready when you are, kid). But also because one of our cable…
On Wednesdays the City of Miami Beach screens a movie on the wall of the Frank Gehry-designed New World Symphony Building, and, depending on what the flick is, my husband and I join hundreds of other Miami Beach residents in the park opposite the building to watch it. This Wednesday’s had been on our calendar…
Just a quick follow-up to Wednesday’s blog which offended some strapless dress wearers and speculated as to what the now-royal bride would wear today. Personally, I was wearing a blue maternity robe while I watched The Kiss(es) on the Balcony. The whole scene was sweet and romantic, but I loved the curmudgeons among the wedding…
Read more about A Tale of Two Graces: What Kate and I Wore to the Royal Wedding
Many parts of Lent are solemn, and some are downright sad; I once saw a woman crying so much during a Good Friday service on the island of Corfu that I whispered to my mother, “You should tell her it has a happy ending.” Because that’s the whole point of Easter, right? The Resurrection, the…
Read more about I Come in Peace–or How I Learned to Stop Fearing Palm Sunday
