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Is Great-Grandma R. Kelly?!

“Rest in peace, Gram. So happy you’re finally home. We love you!” read my Aunt Patty’s Facebook post. I was sitting in LaGuardia airport with my cousin, Shauna. I read it aloud to her. READ MORE

Conversations With Old Men

The following are a sampling of the daily conversations I have with the group of 80-year-old men who smoke cigarettes and drink coffee every morning on the corner of my block. It took me two years and the acquisition of a dog to infiltrate their clique. READ MORE

Sympathy for Liz

When I was three, my mom went to visit a psychic and brought me along. After he was done reading her, he read me too. One of his predictions was that I’d be married “late in life.” READ MORE

A Moment "With" Kristen Schaal

When I was 27, I decided to leave PR and instead become an extremely successful magazine writer. I quit my job, which was terrible anyway, and took an internship at a now-shuttered magazine with a popular component website. All the writers there were desperately smart and cool, and for the most part, younger than me with very few exceptions. I felt like a fish out of water, a very old fish at 27 (which now, ugh, really?), but I came to really like it and convinced myself it was the path to magazine writing success. Toward the end of my internship, the website’s editor-in-chief, a man I really liked and admired, asked me if I wanted to interview for a full-time job on his side of the operation. I eagerly accepted. My first internship out of the gate and I was already getting a job interview? Clearly I had chosen correctly in my new career path, was well on my way to being Vanessa Grigoriadis Jr., and life was great and always would be. READ MORE

Scenes From My Recent Cruise

The following conversations took place on the decks of the ship and on the islands I visited during a recent eight-day cruise with my family. READ MORE

Into the Gray

I was drifting off one evening while watching a movie on the couch as G.C. absentmindedly ran his fingers through my hair. Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, though, I became aware that his gentle strokes had turned into a movement more like aggressive foraging. I roused myself and as nicely as I could, asked him what the hell he was doing. READ MORE

Every Line and Wrinkle

The freezing wind whipped around G.C. and me at the 30th Avenue subway stop. We were on our way to Petco in Union Square, and we had dashed out the door. I hadn’t bothered to put on stitch of makeup, and my hair was hastily tucked under my hat. READ MORE