Bridge over troubled waters…

When my husband and I escape from the city, we must cross over the RFK Bridge (formerly known as the Triborough).  This unpleasant journey frays our nerves and weakens our faith in humanity.  Contractors whiz by, easily twenty miles over the speed limit, aggressively fighting to get from point A to point B.  Cabs register their disapproval of safe driving skills with blaring horns...

Take the money and run to your nearest t...

I had a good, old fashioned break-down last night.  It was about money.  It’s always about money. I don’t make enough of it.  I never have.  What sparked my emotional toilet flush was the realization – I’m always broke. Like a ton bricks hitting my head, I finally put two and two together.  If someone is chronically anything for a decade — overweight,...