During a recent Seattle University tele-seminar, artist Robbi Firestone fielded questions from a bright mix of art students, Pacific Northwest Ballet dancers preparing for second careers, and call-in listeners. Here are some of the highlights.

1. Mix it up.
When Firestone first started out as a portrait painter,...

When my son's friend turned 3, we were invited to attend his birthday party. Although I gamely brought my kids to their friends' birthday parties and had parties for them, unless I was good friends with other parents there, I found these parties taxing. Not only was I shy, but...

After my book came out, I was in the same boat as a lot of other schmucks in the writing biz. My publisher didn't have a print or web advertising budget for it. They only had time to set up two readings for me. The shrinking print book review world...

My kids and I watch "The Cake Boss" every weekend, playing episode after episode on Netflix as if taking just one more cookie from the Italian cookie platter at a party.

There's the butter cookie sandwich with raspberry jam, half-dipped in dark chocolate glaze and then in colored sprinkles. The...

Becoming a mother is both hard and delightful in all of the expected ways. I expected to sleep less, for my body to change, and when I was pregnant, I even had the distinct feeling that my second baby would hate the 20-minute drive back and forth to town. He...

Recently, when I shared on Facebook that my mother banned me from her birthday after reading my new memoir, Licking the Spoon: A Memoir of Food, Family, and Identity, dozens of friends piped up with variations on this sentiment: "That's why I'm waiting until my mother dies to...

Back in 2001, September 11th triggered my household's flight from our East Village apartment. My husband, my five-week-old daughter and I took the train to Long Beach, a beachy barrier island that seemed like the ultimate haven from the tragic haze of Manhattan. Beckoned by my mother, we stayed in...

I thought I was the only one who sometimes received holiday presents that left something to be desired. Everyone else's family was totally sorted, right? That was until I surveyed my Facebook friends and Twitter followers. All I can say is, "Bad Santa!"

When I was 16, my mom bought...

There's nothing more humbling than finding you're living out a big flaming cliché, although it (of course) feels like you are the first person to have this experience in all of history. Five years ago, my coming-out cliché hit me like a ton of rubyfruit. I fell in love with...

I was 21 when I hosted my first Thanksgiving. I was kind of young to take that on, but my mother was getting divorced for the second time and she'd end up spending the day alone if I didn't step up. My boyfriend Daniel's mother, Esme, invited us to her...

In May of 2000, I met my mother-in-law, Peggy, for the first time--days before my wedding to her son.

The Polaroid photo we sent to her was taken at an odd angle, and in that way that you think bad photos of you are good and good photos of...

"If only I were a lesbian!"

Ever since my teenage years, I remember the refrain. Maybe a female friend got dissed at the junior high dance by the boy she had a crush on. Maybe he liked another girl instead of her--the one with metallic blue eyeliner and foxy...

As modern parents, we've absorbed the basic advice about what to do to help kids through a divorce. Bring them to therapy. Don't badmouth the other parent. Keep your dating life out of their sight until you've become serious, and make sure you don't get involved with anyone dodgy. Of...

During divorce, home-life rituals are disrupted. Cooking and regular sit-down dinners are often the first things to go. It's harder to meal-plan, shop and cook when you're overwhelmed. It's also hard to sit down at the table, since it forces you to notice who's missing.

When my parents split...

Psssst. If you, too, are thinking of Christmas with a wince and not a smile, if your inner child goes into the fetal position every December, come sit by me.

If you look at your friends, neighbors and co-workers who have unabashed, untrammeled love for Christmas...who wassail,...

On May 21st, 2000, my new husband and I dropped francs into a public phone near our Burgundian honeymoon rental. The goal: to call my sister, and ask her to read our New York Times Vows column aloud. Not socially connected WASPs, nor terribly distinguished, we had made it in...