I CAN’T SAY I wasn’t warned. Sheilaa Hite, our lovely in-house (in-blog?) astrologer-extraordinaire, told us all to be careful. [click to continue…]
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Paige Smith Orloff invents sisterhood from scratch.
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I CAN’T SAY I wasn’t warned. Sheilaa Hite, our lovely in-house (in-blog?) astrologer-extraordinaire, told us all to be careful. [click to continue…]
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I SWORE UP, DOWN and all around, that I would never raise another puppy. Puppies, I said glibly to friends considering getting their own, are like children, without benefit of diapers. What I should have said, instead: Be careful of the stone certainties, the pronouncements, the “I’ll nevers”–they’ll bite you in the ass, every time. [click to continue…]
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RIVALRY? HA. THAT’S teeny, tiny potatoes. My resident little sister and big brother have tabled competition, in favor of all out war. It’s looking like Afghanistan in my house: no end in sight. [click to continue…]
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I AM CONSTANTLY [choose one: bemused/ amused/ frustrated/ mystified] by the dynamics between my son, known around here as the River, and my daughter, aka the Rock. That mystery, or my sense that there must be one, only intensifies when I try to understand that most unique sibling relationship, that of twins (or, for that matter other multiples–say, how about those California octuplets?) [click to continue…]
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