I feel like a part of society lately. Even doing seemingly mundane things like sitting in a waiting room causes this. In that instance you are put in close contact with strangers. A few years ago at the height of my staying-at-home Mom stage, there were times when I felt a bit like I was in my own Mom-bubble. Granted, it was a nice bubble that I created carefully and intentionally, but still, a bubble. And it encased me, my son, and my husband. There were times when that bubble felt like a warm embrace. Other times it felt like a noose around my neck. I liked the way I grew up. The days were predictable; there was a home-cooked meal on the table every... Continue reading

I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis. I know that sounds so cliched, but I don't know how else to describe it. I find myself neglecting my duties lately, like being obsessive-compulsive about the cleanliness/neatness of the house. A few weeks ago I almost dyed my blond hair black. Today I went for a walk in the rain and didn't want to get home. I imagine myself in a whole other life, with another man, without any of the fears that plague me now, like death or flying or failure. I'm hesitant to even tell these things to my best friends, because if I say it (or write it) it could reveal what a selfish person I am being. But because I can't shut... Continue reading

Most people visit the beach during their Spring or Summer breaks. But since I live near one I can experience the pleasure pretty much any time I want. And although it doesn't last long, about 4 or 5 months now, I like the beach when it's cold. This is partly because I don't have to slather sunscreen for an hour on my fair skin before I go out in the sun. But mostly because there's a chill in the air-- a reason to get cozy or wear something snuggly-- a luxury rather than a hindrance now that I reside in Florida. Also there aren't gangs of drunk teenagers on the beach mucking up the landscape with refuse and obnoxious hoots. What I see when the... Continue reading

When I was fifteen I spent half a summer in Italy. Besides tasting cappuccino for the first time (there were no Star-bucks back then, and only scathing-hot motor-oil coffee at McDonald's) I also fell in love. His name was Matteo and he had the most amazing legs I'd ever seen. We confessed our love for each other with an unexpected kiss on the third floor of a block house on the Island of La Maddalena. We played footsie while dining on potato-pasta soup and squid with his extended family, sailed the mediterranean and stole kisses underwater, sped through the countryside on his motorbike, and met for secret conversation/make-out sessions way past midnight on the balcony as the moon shone overhead and stray cats howled in... Continue reading

This is a good week for me. I say that because the past two weeks were filled with incessant worry. Irrational and rational worry. That is why I chose "Worry Wart" as my blog address. I won't always write about worry, and I won't define myself solely as a "worry wart", but I will tell you that worrying is something I deal with on a daily and sometimes minute-by-minute basis. I haven't yet taken my xanax that the doctor so carefully prescribed me, but I do carry it in my purse, just in case. I also have a personal prescription for Chardonnay, and I have taken that lately. Yesterday to be exact. My cousins and I used to call our Nana a "worry wart". She... Continue reading