Four years ago we installed a new bathroom sink in our downstairs powder room. While I love the way it looks, I have not loved the way it has worked – because the water pressure has been a dreary drizzle.
I had been out of town at an event. Gone just one night. While I was away, my then eight-year-old daughter, Kennedy, had spent the night at her girlfriend Catherine’s house.
It was spring break and we were home. Facebook posts from friends were showcasing sandy beaches, yummy meals, and fancy-schmancy hotel lobbies and pools.
I recently got to the bottom of my favorite liquid foundation. I wanted to make sure it was completely used up before I bought a new one because it’s pretty pricey.
The hike up the mountain was a tough one. Flimsy patches of shade dangled from the trees but they were no match for the brutal Pennsylvania mid-summer heat.
Before our first child was born, my husband and I took a series of classes to prepare us for childbirth. I vividly remember being told by my Lamaze instructor that while in labor,
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