My grandmother, who is 93 years old, believes in living a little dangerously, which is why she does things such as have her toenails painted electric purple. She is proud of her audaciously painted nails, smug about them even. I’m certain she has peeled off her… Read More
    It is possible that I have never given a Valentine’s Day gift before. If it makes everyone feel better, I can’t recall having received one, either. I’m sure I did because I would have expressly indicated in my durable power of attorney to have “Obviously the biggest loser… Read More
    People have mixed opinions about my complete disregard for sports. Those who know of my role as the first-born child to a professional baseball player tend to find it endearing but in a pitiable way, like I’m the apple that fell far from the tree and rolled down… Read More
    I read in the rags that the Golden Globes were a hotter-than-usual affair, and that was not a nod to the fashions but rather that the stars were shvitzing in their stilettos. The press rolled out shot after shot of celebrities fanning themselves in the ballroom of the… Read More
    I still remember the day I was told that I had some talent at writing. I was in the dormitory mailroom to see if my mother had sent me one of the care packages my brother seemed to receive daily at his university. “Any packages for… Read More
    People really worry about us single gals over the holidays. We garner some concern during the other days of the year, but we really make eyebrows furrow with worry during the glut of festivities that roll out in December. The humdrum triflings, like, “Do you need some carpooling?”… Read More
    Editor’s note: Hope you are enjoying your holidays. BDN columnist Erin Donovan penned this fun parody song, and we thought it might give you a smile. It gave us one. Oh, Christmas Brie, oh, Christmas Brie, How steadfast are your calories!… Read More
    What is that, my child? Why have you never seen me kissing Santa Claus? That is your question? That is your question at twenty-two past ten, after keeping me here for seventeen book readings and one prayer to God that lasted longer than a Meatloaf song… Read More
    You may have stumbled across the Forbes magazine article that described the morning routines of 12 female leaders last week. Or maybe you didn’t because your own morning routine doesn’t involve trolling Facebook, slack-jawed over the twice-baked potatoes your bunkmate from summer camp 20 years ago made for… Read More
    Trick-or-treating on Halloween inevitably becomes the backdrop for much reflection about my childhood and the ways it differed from that of my children. I can recall dressing in any variation of cast-off dance recital costumes and joining my brother, who had done the same with sporting uniforms, to… Read More
    It was long ago decided within the cabal of my level-headed family members that big, ground-shaking, life-plundering decisions should never ever be entrusted to me. Under no circumstances should I be the one to shine the light on matters of right and wrong, nor should I be entrusted… Read More
    I like to think of myself as a kid who liked school. It’s likely that I prefer the trappings that come with being the sort of kid who liked school: I like the assumptions that I carried a backpack laden with books and that I used my calculator… Read More
    Growing up in a state that was not Maine, my perception of Maine was that it was a place people only went to for two things: summer camps and weddings. Then I moved to Maine in the summer of 2005 with my then-husband — and we moved right… Read More
    We came to the labyrinth of grain aboard a wooden chariot littered with hay and pulled by a sturdy tractor that made a pleasing rumble as it crawled past the fields of pumpkins and the stand of apple trees. The kids — thrilled at each muddy… Read More
    My dad always spoke in bumper sticker while I was growing up. Time-tested, Irish Catholic-saturated maxims, like “the believer is happy, the doubter is wise,” were constantly proclaimed with a sobering voice and a proud finger in the air, as though it were the antenna through… Read More
    I’m a real darling of summer. You wouldn’t know it to glimpse my skin, which remains as translucent in August as it does in February, or to take stock of my beach attire, which is decidedly “Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.” Alas, I am. I love summer,… Read More
    At first I was relieved that I wasn’t nominated to take the Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis Ice Bucket Challenge. I don’t like subjecting myself to even mild discomfort, which I assumed to be widely known amongst my friends and figured the basis for their not inviting me to participate. Read More