Dear Readers: All these months of work in launching The Wright Contemporary finally caught up with me. I drove to a friend’s house in Colorado for Thanksgiving and simply collapsed for a good 24 hours. Really. I mostly just slept. And so there is no new installment of Eat My…
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SHACKING UP Here it is, almost Thanksgiving, and aren’t you glad I’m not offering tips for roasting the bird, dishing up sides, or sandblasting pie…
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Thanks to all of you who signed on last week in response to my tiny social media campaign. Please keep spreading the word (this post has a share…
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Coming to terms with a dead parent's alcoholism
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Oh, bliss and delight! Those first few weeks of falling in love, when I waltzed around my tiny apartment on West 107th Street (my third but not the last…
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Or so she thought....
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From a vast distance of several decades, from a choice spot on the couch of the retirement home, or from a hospital bed hooked up to a gazillion tubes…
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My first grown-up apartment in New York was on West 104th Street, off Broadway, above what my parents referred to as the DMZ (the DMZ being 96th Street…
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Eat My Memoir