Just over a year ago, my 82-year-old mother was rushed to a hospital where they discovered that she had metastatic cancer. I flew from Moscow to Los Angeles and stayed with her until the end of her life, driving around the San Fernando Valley in my rental car, a midnight blue Hyundai Elantra. It is ironic that as an L.A.…
I’m kind of looking forward to Mother’s Day. I’ve got my eye on a lilac standard to replace what a large tree hath wrought into sticks. And there is the Saturday afternoon mani-pedi, providing my son-in-law can handle the grandkids. An early brunch someplace delicious, and an indulgent afternoon watching the kids try to destroy the baby tomato plants and…
My independence from in-house imprisonment quickly ended when my freelance writing business dried up in 2008 while the bills continued to pour in. I landed a job as a copywriter at a pharmaceutical ad agency and girded myself for the adjustment to a 9-to-5-and-then-some world. But I was caught off guard by the age gap, made apparent during my first…
