My Life With Anxiety, Part 2

The laundry room is in the basement. For the last year, I have been terrified of going down there. It’s not because of spiders, and I don’t have an aversion to dirty socks. It’s because I once had a panic attack while standing in front of the washing...

I Wanna Grow Old With You

We got marrrrrrried! And in true narcissist form, I can’t stop posting photos of it. Here are my favorites – now you can feel like you were there with us from rehearsal to hangover.  Me, in my natural state. Tony is a lucky guy. (Coincidence that my son is...

My Life with Anxiety

I couldn’t get out of the car. I needed a loaf of bread, so that my son’s routine of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch would not be interrupted. I had made it to the store, a miracle in itself, but could not get out of the car. My son stared at...

No Kids, No Shoes, No Service

I am obsessed with Beachfront Bargain Hunt.  It is a show on HGTV, where idiots show up on St. Thomas and tell a realtor “We are ready to buy our beachfront dream house!  Our budget is $250,000!”  And the realtor proceeds to show them a broom closet 10...

Identity Crisis

“Hi, I’m Cheryl.  My husband is a podiatrist.” I had just moved into my house and was trying to remove a stinkbug from the ceiling.  When Cheryl and her brownies knocked on my door, I was naked (the evil critter had fallen, and on the off-chance it...

The Poor House

Remember your first paycheck?  Mine was probably from a Mint Stand I hosted in my driveway circa 1987.  My parents could not afford lemonade, so I stole a bag of Lifesaver mints from the candy drawer and batted my eyelashes at the neighbors until they forked over a...