READING BETWEEN THE PINES

If life's about the journey, does it matter how many bathroom breaks you take along the way?

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she realizes her husband is connected to a lot of well-endowed Facebook friends under the alias ‘Shazam Man!’ she’s not getting any younger, trades her engagement ring for a boob job breaks free from the constraints of social judgment, and installs a stripper pole in her …

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Last Friday, my eight year-old daughter, Essa, stayed home from school with a bad case of everyone-else-in-my-class-is-sick-so-I-wanna-be-sick-too-itis. As a mother, I’ve experienced these strange illnesses before. My son, Taylor, once had I-can’t-go-to-school-because-I-sprained-my-ankle-and-halfway-through-my-day-off-started-limping-on-the-wrong-foot syndrome, and my other daughter, Grace, recently struggled with I-didn’t-get-my-book-report-finished-therefore-I’ll-cry-until-my-face-turns-an-unnatural-shade-of-puke-so-I-can-stay-home-and-finish-it disorder. Needless to say, I’m usually unsympathetic to the sudden onset of these …

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Let me start by inserting a spoiler alert. I wrote this after shotgunning about a gallon of NyQuil. Yesterday I was bragging to my husband, Scot (who’s fighting off a tiny cold and is bedridden for the foreseeable future…likely until America pole vaults off the fiscal cliff) that due to my impervious genetic make-up, I haven’t …

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“In a world that constantly throws big, unexpected events our way, we must learn to benefit from disorder.” Nassim Nicholas Taleb This quote is from “Learning to Love Volatility,” a fascinating Wall Street Journal article I read last month. The basic premise of the piece is that huge, unanticipated events, like stock market crashes, wars, and …

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Yesterday I expressed an unmistakable political preference through my outspoken alter ego, Gemini Girl, and if the thought of two voices running through one head makes you uncomfortable, try taking a look at the secondary characters rolling around up there. Some people seem to like her. Others don’t. When I was sixteen years old, the …

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When I was thirty-two years old, I was mugged. With ten years of city life in Chicago under my belt, a genetic disposition toward calculated risk (a ticker tape of pros and cons runs in a continuous loop through my head), and a fairly acceptable amount of caffeine flowing through my veins, I raced out …

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Once upon a time, before I lost my moral compass in a land far, far, away, I swore on a bible, under oath, that I’d never take my kids to Vegas (O.K. it wasn’t really that dramatic but I like the visual, especially because in my version of the story I have newly shellacked nails, a …

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