Stephanie Klein Greek Tragedy

I just ate breakfast soup, after eating breakfast. Today’s breakfast was pecked in serving order—between feeding the beans, I dug into small bites of Challah French toast Pudding, just a lick of syrup, packed lunches, just a handful of Pirate…

It’s important to daydream. To have some sense of a vision, no matter how shallow. I had one once upon a long time ago, and remarkably enough, it all came true. So, why not put it out there? Everyone should…

In the gym where my children take gymnastics class, I sit on a ledge of cubbies, looking out beyond a short fence, much the way people observe the flamingos  at a zoo. I watch my daughter spring from a trampoline,…

I’ve enrolled in a writing workshop because it works for me. It’s the only way I actually get writing done. I workshopped both Straight Up and Dirty and Moose. It’s just something I need. Our first class, the instructor began…

Maybe you’ve heard of it, perhaps not. I’ve been avoiding posting about this because I haven’t wanted to promote a poorly written book, when I’m not good about promoting exceptional books. Except, now I have to. There have been too…

Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is…

Dominance. It’s been a theme that keeps ringing ’round, turning up at my stoop. To begin, when I first moved to Boca, I was invited to join a new book club that was in its infancy; I missed the first…

Breakfast bread puddings. At least, that’s what Phil’s taken to calling them because he’s wholeheartedly against my calling it “French Toast Casserole.” Casserole, quite simply, is an ugly middle-America word that conjures up images of upturned gelatinous soups, chicken legs,…