The day before Thanksgiving, Laura, her family and I went to lunch at a semi-fancy restaurant on the Upper East Side. There’s a whole story to this lunch, which we think is hysterical, but so far every time any of us has recounted it, our audience hasn’t shared our amusement. I guess it’s one of those you-had-to-be-there things. But as a test of my ( Read more... )

Back in fourth grade, this girl named Ellen C. made fun of me (and recruited a number of other 4th graders to join in on making fun of me) on account of my tendency to describe people who felt like family as my actual family.  I had just moved 3,000 miles, from California to New York, with my mother and sister, leaving behind my dad, my school, my ( Read more... )