Chicken pot pie and WTF breastfeeding

It’s been quite the transition to motherhood or, as I like to call it, Mom Eats Last. Some days it feels like SJ and I are killing it: We get enough sleep, we eat, we shower, the house gets cleaned, the bills get paid, and we leave the house and return to it, all without…

Roast chicken and a rejection letter

There’s only one thing better than being single and childless at 39: having your novel rejected by one of the biggest agents in New York (AGAIN. AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN). My joke these days, although it’s not a joke, is I’m being rejected by the best. Three of the biggest agents with the biggest and most…