My first crush, which felt an awful lot like love, was on a Muppet. I was five years old when I first saw him in all his square-jawed yellow-tinged glory. His name was Guy Smiley and he was the most self-assured, well-dressed, manly Muppet I had ever seen. My love for him felt real and secure. He would be able to take care of me. This unrequited love affair with Guy lasted for about two years until, in second grade, I saw a photo of Roger Daltry from the rock band The Who. In

My friend Bridget is twenty years younger than I am but despite our age gap we are close. Our friendship started when we were working together for the same client and although that client has come and gone, our bond has remained. Bridget is a lovely girl - bright, charming, witty and accomplished. Yet despite all these attributes she has been unlucky in love. Or should I say she had been unlucky in love…until she met Peter. Peter is a tall strapping fellow. He is bright, hand

A curmudgeon is a crusty, ill-tempered and often elderly person who is consistently cranky, stubborn, and disagreeable. Appearing in English in the late 16th century the word’s exact origin is unknown, though it was previously thought to stem from the French “coeur” and “mechant” (meaning “evil heart’). Several weeks ago I was slogging away in my office. My work that week was bureaucratic and unrewarding. Creating estimates for possible clients interested in my services. Co

The night my father lay dying the sky above Manhattan, and indeed for miles around the city, turned a shocking, shimmering, bright blue-green. It was December 27th, 2018 and my siblings and I were gathered around the hospital bed that had been set up in my dad’s apartment. One of us, I can’t remember who, glanced out the window and exclaimed “oh my God. What’s happening!?” My father lived on the 20th floor, and his apartment had a terrace with little obstruction from other

I think the best way to learn a language quickly might just be acute paranoia. When I first met my French husband and his large extended family I was convinced that they were, one and all, talking trash about me - albeit in that gorgeous Gallic way of theirs. "Blah blah blah blah blah Olivia. Blah blah Olivia blah blah,” I would overhear the aunts and uncles and cousins say while surreptitiously glancing my way…and I would work myself into a self-conscious and irritated tizzy

It’s the end of my mother’s life. Or so we think it is. But we (my mother and I) have been thinking this for several years now. Although my mother does nothing but tell me she wishes that she were dead, she is, in fact, refusing to die, and I am caring for her…in my way. My way means visiting her weekly at her apartment in New York City. I arrive and she lets me in, usually about five minutes after I have rung the bell. Her apartment is a one bedroom but even crossing that sm