Yesterday I dropped my cellphone in the toilet. A friend of mine told me that these sorts of things only happen to moms. They must happen to dads, too, because my husband did the same thing a month ago. As I've been waiting for its resurrection, I've actually loved not having it in my life. It's one less thing for me to forget when I leave the house. One less thing to charge. One less ...More »

As one of our New Year's resolutions, my husband and I have decided to go to the movies once a week. It's an ambitious resolution but we have two friends who are in on it, too. It's kind of like going to the gym with friends but more fun: you only go if you have someone else relying on you to go. The last time we all went together,  I chose the film: American Gangster. In ...More »

Brussels is an international village. Dinner parties here sometimes feel like informal, mini-UN summits. This week, we were invited to dinner at a dear friend's house who is half-Austrian and half-French. The dinner guests consisted of an Indian, a Portugese, an Italian, an El-Salvadorian, a Belgian, and two Americans (one from the East Coast and one from the West Coast). Dining out in Brussels, whether it's at a restaurant or someone's home, always guarantees learning ...More »

Belgians don't cut corners, Italians seem to do nothing but cut corners, and Americans are somewhere in between. As I drive around Brussels and try to dodge the driving customs of 26 countries, I have to tune into a Jazz radio station (89.10FM) to calm my nerves. Lately, I can't get enough of Tony DeSare's version of Prince's "Kiss." Fortunately, it was playing when I recently parallel-parked in a compromising position with one tire on ...More »

We spent this past weekend in Rome, and there's nothing like recharging the batteries on the home turf. I know, I know, I'm American so home turf is actually New York and not Italy. But after eight years of living in Rome, Italy sure feels like home. It felt great to be back. The air, albeit somewhat polluted, cleared my lungs and my head. I had my cappucino fix (Italians may have exported their coffee ...More »

I never knew the hesitant, shy, serious girl I turned into sitting at the table with new friends from Rome. She stuttered when she spoke. Her opinions remained sealed behind her pouty lips. She rarely laughed, always fearful that she was the expense of other people's jokes. She was an observer and a follower -- never the leader she had been back home. Newly arrived in Italy, in trying to find myself in another culture, I ...More »

I once asked a friend of mine what he missed most about his dancing career. “The applause,” he said. I can relate. I loved acting in plays when I was a kid because I could get applauded for being someone I wasn’t. At age twelve, I was shy and tall. All the boys at school came up to my belt buckle. I stood out like a goal post in class photos, even when I slouched, which was ...More »

At college, I met people who actually used sneakers for running. The campus uniform seemed to be perfectly-faded Levis and New Balance sneakers. I thought New Balance was a diet when I first heard it. After endless, mile-long walks in Converse sneakers that gave me blisters, my friends intervened. They knew how to wear sneakers as gracefully as heels. Gradually, they trained me to buy sneakers that were comfortable and attractive, a new concept for ...More »

The keys to the house belonged only to us. We could use them whenever we wanted, and never had to coordinate our calendars with aunts, uncles, cousins or grandparents. The sign on our front porch read “Still Point,” and the T.S. Eliot poem from which the name took inspiration hung framed next to our front door. For five years, this colonial white cottage with yellow shutters was our “still point in the turning world.” It ...More »

Her chapped lips parted into a grin as she whispered into Sandi’s ear. She tucked her long, brown hair straight as ribbons behind her freckled ear with one hand while covering her lips with the other. The three of us sat next to each other on the grade school’s hallway radiator warming our corduroyed bottoms against the sound of the pipes clanking. Our Treetorn sneakers dangled at the end of gangly legs that didn’t yet ...More »