40 is the new black

At 10 I was living in Albany,NY with my parents enjoying my last year as an only child, having as much fun as I could, happy as a clam.

At 20 I was in NYC, going to college, shacked up with my boyfriend, his family became my family, my friends were my life, I was completely clueless and again, happy as a clam.

At 30 I was married to that boy, we moved out of NYC, we had our first house, our first baby, and absolutely no idea of how we were going to make it, and I really was happy as a clam.

At 40 I am still shacked up with that same boy (legally),  we have another house, in another town, 2 punky kids that are surrounded by love (thanks to our unstoppable family and friends), and, well, you know. Clam. Happy. Me.

A ritual, a habit and an obsession walk into a family….


I have the same thing for breakfast every morning.

Toast (usually sourdough but sometimes rye) and coffee.

Truth be told – most days I have 2 breakfasts,

one  at 7:00am – because I’m a 100 years old,

and the other at about 9:30am – with the rest of the world, to keep them company (another cup of coffee, one piece of toast)


For as long as we’ve lived here, as soon as he gets home from work,

my husband walks into the house, takes off his shoes, and leaves them for dead.

There are 3 other people living here, where are all the other shoes you ask?

They’re a few feet away, in a shoe rack

(or at least in very close proximity of the shoe rack).



When my babies were born, they were each given a receiving blanket.

My daughter was gifted her blanket by a close family friend,

it was simple, white and cotton, she named it Blankie

My son was given his by a beloved aunt who made it for him,

he calls it Blue Blankie or Yangster

Ofcourse today, 13 and 8 years later, respectively

they are a ball of yarn and a shred of cloth.

They have literally been loved to death.

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