Stephanie Klein Greek Tragedy

I get it. Giving feels good. Doing for others is what really makes us happy. Not things. Actions. Selflessness. I so get it. I do. But what happens months later, when you gave and gave, and now you’re stuck in…

I’ll spare you the embroidered pillow reading "Bless This Mess…"
…Mostly because I don’t understand the point of needlepoint pillows. They feel like bushy yarn, like the sweater your grandmother knit you, that your mother forced you to wear for…

Abigail has had a fever for the past two days. 102. Poor thing just wants to breathe on me and use my face as a tissue. So we’re sick, together, again. Her more than me. In writing the pilot of…

I was eating crazy sandwiches again. I will post the progress of this scrapbook, but I have to say, it’s taking more time than I’d thought. I know it doesn’t have to, but if I’m doing it, I can’t NOT…

I‘m going there. I figure if I live in the suburbs, I might as well embrace the lifestyle, sweatpants, Costco, and all. It means I’ll be posting, and scrapping, documenting every single day of the month of December a la…

It wasn’t that long ago when my evening ritual consisted of chick by way of flick. My girl movies added a sense of comfort to my life. Clicking up a fem DVD let me zone out before sleep, muddling the…

I am all over the place–not just my clothes pulled from a suitcase, littering my closet floors, or the weave of words in this post, or even my travel schedule, or hair. I’m a blur of thoughts and to-do lists,…

I have good intentions. In my mind I’m the type of mom who’s sneaking in wheat germ, the kind of wife who’s still buying sexy underthings, the kind of woman who finds time to read and return phone calls. But…