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

A large part of getting sober for me was getting used to feeling my feelings. Or, in fact, getting to know what "feelings" really were. For most of my life, and certainly while I was an active alcoholic, I was so out of touch with myself and my feelings that I was almost unaware that I had any. My days were lost in a blur of profound anxiety. I also had to manage the daily discomfort of my hangovers, and the lurking anticipation of how and with what (wine? beer? vodka? drugs?

The ocean was so brisk and clear that it felt more like mountain air than water, so translucent that I could see a variety pack of colorful fish darting among the rocks at least ten feet below. I hauled my exhausted body out of the water and back onto the small motor boat. I was in Mexico, trying to learn how to surf, but it was futile. Midway through the lesson with my kids I realized that my personal surfing ship has sailed. I have some rotation problems with my right shoul

I married a Frenchman, therefore I like to think that I know more about soufflés than your average American cook. But I could be wrong about that. Don’t tell my spouse that I don’t like soufflés...but I don’t. They’re too eggy. Too airy. Too complicated and aristocratic for my pedestrian taste. Give me a hot chocolate chip cookie (with walnuts!) and a cold glass of full fat-milk every once in a while and I’ll be happy. But that is not my husband, nor anyone in his large exten

The disciples are lined up. Row after row after row. Heads bowed but for the few who have their eyes trained heavenward, beseeching their God for mercy. Hands clasped so tightly that their knuckles are white. Almost all are visibly praying. A hypnotic mumbling, each repeating their own personal words but along the same line. Chanting their wish, concentrating so deeply you believe whatever it is that they want must come true. Otherwise that will be proof that there is, in fac