A Modern Family Romance Part One

“Does good pizza even exist down here?”  I asked B. on our first date. “Sure there does,” he replied, as he rattled off a short list of reputable places.  Some of them I had heard of.  There was that restaurant in Wilmington.  There was the place in Carolina Beach that had a good reputation.  But good compared to what? “No, seriously, good enough for a Jersey Girl kind of good?  Because North Carolina people have told me about the ‘good pizza’ before, but it’s never been the same.” Pizza talk took up a lot of our first date.  I decided … Continue reading

Good Stuff

“Do you like it?” She asks. “It’s good,” I say,  “It’s really good.  And definitely the best I’ve eaten since I’ve lived here.” And it is good, worlds better than the Walmart pizza that I had begun to accept as passable, crisp yet chewy crust, flavorful cheese, tangy sauce.  I’ll definitely go back there for more. Tomorrow, even, knowing me. “Have you been running,” L. asks as we eat. “A lot,” I say.  “Probably more than I should be.  I ordered a case of vanilla Cliff shots from Amazon.  Have you ever eaten those things?  They’re like vanilla cupcake frosting.”  … Continue reading

A Tale of Two Pizzas

“How’s your pizza?” “It’s excellent.  You’ll love it.” “No seriously, how’s your pizza?”  I lean in a little bit.  “I’m from Jersey,” I add, as I toss my unruly hair, still unsure how to behave with its newly acquired southeastern frizz, over my shoulder.  “Pizza’s important to me,” this last statement delivered with a reverence typically reserved for a discussion about someone’s church, or their family, or the Superbowl. That’s how the conversation began when, one night, on our way to Walmart, I noticed a tiny storefront set back from the road with a sign outside advertising pizza.  Since landing … Continue reading


Change is hard, y’all. From having to drive 40 miles to get to the nearest Target and 600 miles to find good pizza, to having to deal with my massive tangle of unruly hair, due to Southeastern humidity. It’s a war y’all.  Every day, it’s a war between me and my hair. I have this blow dryer you see, that could probably be classified as a lethal weapon.   My hair dryer could take down anything you buy at the gun and ammo shop, for sure. It weighs at least ten pounds, people.  At least. I spend a good fifteen minutes … Continue reading

Jersey Girls Don’t Pump Gas

Have you heard?  I’m a southern belle now, y’all. I’ve left the land of landfills and urban sprawl for quieter pastures.  For a quiet island, to be specific. It’s a different world down here.  I haven’t found a decent slice of pizza since I’ve ventured below the Mason Dixon line,  but I’ve seen more gun and ammo shops than Snooki’s seen the inside of Seaside Heights motel rooms. I like island life, yet it means if I need something more than a kayak rental, I have to drive for it.  The only game in town is a Walmart, and by … Continue reading


Maybe it was the parking ticket or the broken windshield or maybe it was the fact that my mother’s house, where I’m staying, had no internet or maybe it was the fact that I was under the same roof as my mother to begin with, but by Sunday, I started to lose my Namaste-ness. OK, let’s be honest.   The Namaste-ness began to slip away weeks ago, the tension of having to be out of my house by closing time on Friday (which I made with an hour to spare) or the mounting conflict of dealing with the naysayers in my … Continue reading

In Praise of Pop Tarts

  “Sprinkles, Mommy!  I want sprinkles!” “Rainbow or chocolate?” “Both, Mommy! I want them both!   Ow!”  My daughter winces. “They’re hurting me!” “Look at me, baby!  Look at me!” I turn her head to face mine.   “Don’t look down there!” “You can have whatever toppings you want.  You can have every topping in the store.” “Mommy!  Make them stop!” S. looks past me at the open wound and at the nurse, in the middle of sewing 17 stitches into her leg, as a result of being hit by a car hours earlier. The staff assures me that she can’t feel … Continue reading

My Photo Scandal on Facebook

" WOAH!" "I don't believe you!" "Just checking to see if you are OK." "Rebel!" These were just a few of the comments that I received last weekend, when I posted this picture on my personal Facebook page along with the following caption: "Those of you who know me well will appreciate what I'm having for dinner…if not be shocked by it." People who knew me were surprised – if not amused  – that I was having a slice of pizza with fries for dinner.   As a matter of fact, it was one of the most commented-on posts I have … Continue reading