by paige on March 3, 2010
WE TRY to keep track of notable sisters’ birthdays, so that we can remind ourselves (and you, of course) of all the women we admire, and acknowledge them on their special days. But as we were putting together our plans for this month, we noticed that an awful lot of spectacular sisters were born this month. This Friday is the birthday of Indy car racing pioneer Janet Guthrie, and next week, we’ll be celebrating actress Lynn Redgrave, Civil War heroine Harriet Tubman, singer Liza Minnelli and photographer Diane Arbus. That’s a whole lot of talent packed into seven days. As with everything around here, we’ve got theories about why. [click to continue…]
by paige on February 18, 2010
ON THE POSITIVE side: No one threw up. But what happens when you pack two not-so-copacetic siblings into the car for a four-hour ride? In our family: headphones, iPods, and a whole lot of discussion of just what makes boys so gross, anyway. [click to continue…]
by paige on January 20, 2010
WHILE THAT PATRICIAN gentleman above may not look like Dr. Spock or Dr. Sears, he was way ahead of his time when it came to advice for moms and dads. He’s Henry James, the august novelist, and if I had only had the sense to follow his rules, I wouldn’t have ended yesterday evening by yelling at my daughter…to stop yelling. [click to continue…]
by paige on January 13, 2010
IT’S ALL ABOUT the music, folks. At least that’s what my charming children would like me to believe. [click to continue…]
by paige on November 5, 2009
by paige on October 28, 2009
APPARENTLY, MY SON THE RIVER’S skepticism does not extend to mythical creatures who claim lost teeth. Or who provide cash. [click to continue…]
by paige on October 22, 2009
MY SON’S DAYS of believing in the unbelievable are growing shorter; I’m pretty sure this is the last year when he’ll accept Santa Claus on faith, though he’s a good sport, and he’ll probably play along for the sake of his sister. But I’m feeling pretty wistful about the end of his belief in magic, so when I discovered two giant pumpkins growing on a vine snaking out of a compost heap I keep ignoring down behind our barn, I decided to try to give him one last gasp of wonder. [click to continue…]
by paige on October 5, 2009
IT IS NOT NEWS to anyone (except maybe a checked-out dad or two) that we moms have a lot of balls: the ones we’re juggling, the ones we’re dodging, the ones flying directly at our heads. (And then there are the big brass ones we bring out when someone raises our maternal hackles, but that’s a story for another post.) When you have that many balls, it’s inevitable that some will drop, and you just pray (or I do anyway) that the ones that go bouncing away will be the ones that matter the least. [click to continue…]
by paige on August 31, 2009
THIS WEEK, SADLY, the only thing I’m away from is my computer: instead of concocting cocktails or laughing my way through my treasured collection of vintage Ladies’ Auxiliary cookbooks, I’m labeling clothing, disinfecting lunchboxes and wondering how the hell I’m going to get four people dressed and out the door by 7:30 Wednesday morning, when, yes, the school year officially begins for the Rock and the River and by extension, the Husband and me. [click to continue…]
by paige on August 18, 2009
"Mom! These are DEFINITELY POTATOES."
ARE WE ADDLED YET? Has the heat cooked your brain, softened your resolve, wilted your garden? Why yes, I say, to all three, which is perhaps why, when the Rock and I were washing our slender haul of assorted love apples from the garden yesterday, I didn’t bother to correct her when she insisted the tomatoes were potatoes and ate more carrots than she washed. It’s too hot to argue. It’s too hot to do much of anything, which is why I say: Make soup. (Does this seem proof positive that I’m not thinking clearly? No, no, I promise, this is good advice–read on.) [click to continue…]
First time here? Here's the idea: 
No surprise, really, that sisterhood, often life’s longest relationship and always one of its most important, has been the Muse for so much creative self-expression by women, and also by men. 
As the suffix of its name suggests, 
