I wouldn’t mind being Ina Garten in my next life—a queen of simple, delicious cooking and entertaining whom Tina Fey suspects is only a figment of middle-aged women’s collective imagination. I’ve watched Ina’s cooking shows for years and just finished reading her memoir. She’

I went to the river alone. I’d asked my kid if he wanted to come with, and he didn’t, which might have been the best outcome that day. I needed quiet. It was a short drive from my house, and a short walk out of the parking lot

Letter to a tree at Sue-meg State Park, Trinidad, CA: I apologize that I’m not sure what kind of tree you are, although I studied many of your brethren in college forestry and botany classes. You remind me of a cypress. You sat, and presumably still reside, near

About half the time I go shopping at my local supermarket, a big chain, there are AT&T salespeople posted near the exit. They are usually young, good-looking guys, clearly torn between accosting people to make a commission and hanging around looking at their phones. They usually make

I’m fortunate enough to have friends who treat me like family, no matter how much time passes between our seeing each other. They are people I can comfortably reveal myself to, and people whom I trust to take care of my kid. Trouble is, most of them live an