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Welcome to my little corner of the ether. This is where you will find information about my books and musings on life and love in New York City. To stay in the loop about all things ADR...


The big girls. That's what I call them now that we have a tiny one around. And, really, they are getting big. And funny. These creatures? They make us laugh countless times a day. And this is a breed of laughter that is violent and deep and wonderful. The kind of laughter that makes me think: Life is good.


On the night before Irene hit, we gave each of the girls her own flashlight. We didn't want to panic them, but explained that during big storms, sometimes the lights stop working. So, they slept with their little silver lights on their bedsides. And, mercifully, Mother Nature spared us. There was no outage in our home. But Middle Girl was vigilant, ready for anything. At 6am, as Irene did her thing, Middle Girl appeared at the threshold of our bedroom door, PJ-clad, hair mussed, waving her little light. I'm ready! She proclaimed. I'm ready!


"Mom," Big Girl said. "The tail of a T-Rex is soooooo long. It's seven hours long!"


Middle Girl: "Mommy, I want a patata at my birthday!"

"A pa-ta-ta??"

"Yes, a patata."

I look at Big Girl, hopeful that she can translate. And she can.

"She's trying to say peeen-ana!"


"Yes, peenana!"

I think about this. I've got it!


"Yes!!!!" The girls say. "Yes!!!"


Big Girl: "Mom, I've been thinking about it. And I either want to be an artist or an ice cream maker when I grow up."


"Mom! You have the biggest mullets I have ever seen!" says Big Girl. Yes, for some inexplicable reason, the girls call breasts mullets. And, no, I am not Pamela Anderson, but I think I have the only mullets they have ever seen.

Little Sister? Up until a week or so, she had an actual little mullet, a tiny patch of dark hair left from birth. Slowly, the dark hair has fallen out and now she is a bona fide blondie. The other day, I announced this to Husband.

"She's lost her mullet!"

The big girls stopped watching Phineas & Ferb (Is it terribly inappropriate that I let them watch this?) and turned to me, horror glossing their big, blue eyes.

"She lost a mullet???!!!" They asked, very very concerned.

"No," I said, smiling, about to burst. "Her mullets are fine."

Thank you, my big girls, for being so wonderfully funny. I love you.


How often do you laugh and laugh hard? Tell me a funny story.

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