We marvel all the time. We marvel at our blessings.  We have a healthy child, a beautiful little girl, we whisper in the dark.  The best half of you plus the best half of me.  And then we kiss. We marvel →MORE...

When I was seven, I fell in love with all things pony.  My parents bought me a book about horses and pretty soon, I was begging them to stuff a half-ton animal into their suburban backyard.  Their refusal seemed to me →MORE...

Donald just keeps getting sexier.  Sexier and sexier and sexier.  And while people told me this would happen, told me that I would want to rip his clothes off and ravage him because he made gorilla noises at our baby, I →MORE...

There is a certain drudgery in the work of motherhood.  It is a sort of dull and familiar repetition, a pattern of lackluster chores with no foreseeable end. Our day begins around six in the morning.  Charlotte wakes up and I →MORE...

My cats are trying to kill me. I know, it’s hard to believe that of critters with slightly less intelligence than sea slugs, but I SWEAR TO YOU that those hairball-hacking felines are plotting my demise. It all started when Donald →MORE...