About a thousand years ago, I read a short story by James Thurber called Many Moons. It’s a very rockin’ little tale, and every now and again—usually when I’m in the midst of some teaching gig—it comes back to me. This week marked the start of Part II in my annual adventures in running my extremely low-tech summer camps for kids. Writing Camp wrapped last Friday and I only had two days to catch my breath before the start of Fashion Camp. Yes, yes-- it is beyond ironic that I associate my name with anything having to do with fashion, given that even on my best days my ensembles usually resemble a mash-up of Kurt Cobain and a corduroy and Birkenstock addicted seventies lesbian. Me running an operation that even suggests I know how to put outfits together is on par with George W. Bush running the country. And yet, year after year, the campers eagerly sign up, and many of them are returnees. more ›

I sort of hated Elizabeth Gilbert for beating me to the punch in writing a memoir about how an utterly fucked up divorce led to amazing travels, much meditation, and ultimately great healing. On the other hand, I have to say that I actually enjoyed the book, my enjoyment compounded by the fact that I read it while I was in the midst of my own utterly fucked up divorce. For the three of you who haven’t heard of or read Eat, Pray, Love, basically this really tall chick with blonde hair and a big book advance decides to spend four months in three different countries not getting laid for a very long time despite the fact that she meets a lot of hot Italian guys. A part that really stuck with me was how her friends ragged on her for taking night classes in Italian. I think they referred to the campus as Divorced Lady College. As if we must immerse ourselves in frivolous activities to help us forget what our idiot ex-husbands did to us. more ›