Women Bathing by Tamara de Lempicka I hesitate to mention the iconic and often cringe-inducing TV show Sex and the City (of which I have seen every episode more than once), but in this case I feel compelled to quote Charlotte York. In response to her friends’ urging that she remove her towel at a spa, Charlotte cries, “I didn’t grow up in a naked house!” Well, Charlotte, I didn’t either. When it comes to nudity, I’m kind of a wuss. I don’t feel comfortable in revealing clothi
I live in New York City, which essentially means I live in a garbage dump. Okay, not really, but it feels like that sometimes. Last night I had dinner with some friends from Boston, and on the way to the restaurant one of them leaned over to me and said, "I've got a question about New York." I was excited. Was she going to ask me about the culinary landscape or the theater scene, or maybe the impressive array of summer entertainment in all five boroughs? None of the above. In
This past week, I took my first vacation as a full-time freelancer. It was weird. I didn't have to ask a boss for the time off, didn't have to add the vacation to a company calendar or alert colleagues to my upcoming absence. This was thrilling until I realized I also wasn't going to be getting paid. The freelancer's dilemma. My husband's family takes an annual vacation in Maine, and this year we would be celebrating his grandmother's 85th birthday as part of the festivities.