Elizabeth. A name with as much poise as it demands from when you first say it. Elizabeth. It’s regal. Authoritative. Discerning. A quiet sophistication. An ageless mystique. For a long time into my early twenties, I wondered whether I would measure up to the woman my Mum was. But I
0When the ad agency asked me to write twice a week about ‘My Mother and I’, I knew right away this wasn’t just about scrutinizing a lifelong relationship with her. This was about emotional recall. This was about putting to words 30 years of moments (and memories) between my Mum
0Mid last February, a local ad agency contacted me about a writing gig. Yeah to that. The agency was launching a campaign for one of its clients and needed a creative writer on board. Was I interested? I said I was. They said sawa, wait for a call later this
0You call him your Ol’Man. The Ol’Man. It’s a hip moniker. You don’t recall that uber hip person who first ran with it but may the Good Lord bless your funky soul. Imitation, after all, is the best form of flattery. When you saw him last, your Ol’Man, in January,
0I am pregnant. 3 months – 13 weeks and 6 days in as I write this. Nothing about me was ready for a baby this year. But who ever is ready for these babies? They come when they want to come, and stay because they want to stay. Defiant. Of
0I am one of those people who have gone through life looking at things with their two front teeth. Buck teeth. That’s my signature. A pair of buck teeth which seem to be pushing their way forward the older I get. Each of them wants to see. And be seen
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