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My Husband Thinks I’m a Hoarder

My Husband Thinks I’m a Hoarder

I’ll admit it—I’ve saved every letter written to me at sleepaway camp circa 1984. And all of my concert t-shirts. And my sixth grade sticker collection. And the satin unicorn with rainbow streamers that hung over my childhood bed. My husband, on the other hand,...
When Strangers Attack!

When Strangers Attack!

Last week, Dave, Viv and I ate at a casual outdoor restaurant that welcomes families.  Our 18-month-old is a delightful lunch companion, but she’s a bit of a slob, and new with a fork, so chunks of grilled cheese and an entire cob of corn had fallen to the patio...

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