My birthday was coming up. Nifty fifty. The oldest I've ever been. The beginning, perhaps, of the end. Or the end of the beginning. Whatever your view, turning 50 is a milestone, and you ignore its implications at your peril.
The cake looked easy. There was no melting of butter or chocolate, no separating egg yolks from whites. There was no butter involved at all, just a cup of 'salad oil.' And look at those nice teaspoons of cinnamon and nutmeg and all that brown sugar!
It's easy to cut each other down, to make comparisons, and to criticize. It's what we've been taught to do. But think for a minute about what our lives would look and feel like if instead, we were supportive of other women, if we celebrated instead of lamented.
I'm sad to report that even the greatest friendships end. Even the ones you thought were rock solid and iron clad; with history and memories, unconditional love and support. A B.F.F. breakup can be worse than a boy breakup: it creates the same kind of pain, rejection and abandonment, but it leaves a bigger hole in your heart.
I am a huge fan of New Girl. I always look forward to each episode and how female friendship is portrayed in a positive and fun way. However, some recent episodes have been less adork-able, more stereotypical and well, not funny.
One cheating husband, divorce, pain, litigation, single parenthood, multiple nights of tears and two small children later, I have learned something that I didn't know pre-marriage. Love that is healing can come in multiple packages, more precisely, four.
Your grandma lies, your neighbor lies, your father fibs and yes, even your best girlfriends tell tales. So, how do you handle a fibbing friend? Forgive and forget, or simply forget... her?
Something about the way Dave had said she was doing well let me know that all my unreturned phone calls, the quick greetings and the explanations that she had to run but would call me right back had nothing to do with her increased hours at work, her dad or anything else. It was me.
We've become much more than the one-dimensional girls who met 30 years ago. All that loss -- of spouses, parents and dreams of the perfect lives we thought awaited us -- has let us connect with each other in a more real way. We tease and joke and boss, but there's a softness to it now.
Thank you for being there for me when I call you and need someone to just listen. It doesn't matter where we are in this world or in our lives, I know you will always pick up.
I tried to play it cool around her, didn't want her to know that I was in desperate friend-love with her. On Facebook I wrote frequent, obsessively creepy status updates chronicling my quest to awkwardly befriend her.
The truth is that despite the best of efforts, there will always be people we just aren't meant to win over. Some people will never see past our mistakes. Some people will never stop doubting us. Some people will never be happy with us, and that's OK.
The smiles are the same, and so are the values, the ambitions, the dedication to our families and to our friendships, as are our idiosyncrasies that we still love each other for.
Do you know that you can accurately predict where you'll be five years from now? You can easily know where you'll be going, what you'll be doing, and what your income level will be. If you want to know how, the answer is simple: by the company you keep.
Because quality has to win out. In all areas of your life. With your sister, with your parents, with your kids, with your spouse, with your friends. It has to mean more, even if sometimes it feels like less.
What should your life look like at 22? What should it look like at 30? What should it look like at 40? 45? Get a good idea. I know you've thought about it. Ok. Got it? Good. Now, put a big fat "X" through that picture and spit on it.