The story began in July 1923 in Brooklyn, NY. A boy named Leonardo was born to a Sicilian father, Carmelo, and Italian mother, Rose. "Leo," as he was called, was later joined by six sisters and one brother.
As parents, we're instructed to "enjoy every moment" and are constantly reminded that "it goes by so quickly." The implication is that once on the other side of parenting our children daily, we'll be aimless and a little bit empty.
I am a cynical cliché of a man. And, like most misanthropes, what has fueled my pessimism -- ironically -- is my optimism. When you go through life expecting intelligence, honesty and fairness, but you get the Tea Party, McSalads, and Prop 8... you tend to become a bitter grump.
We marry for "richer or poorer," but does our choice of partner actually make us richer or poorer?
Marriage is a profound and public proclamation of love and it is also a government-sanctioned economic partnership with attendant rights and responsibilities.
The One I Love is one of those perfect indie gems you feel lucky for finding, and it's yet another example of how an interesting premise, real emotion, and a few great actors will trump big budgets, special effects, and star power every time.
"Honey, I think we are both aware that neither of us is enjoying sex all that much lately. Actually, we haven't enjoyed it for a long time. What do you think about opening up our marriage?"
Insufficient shuteye is a public health epidemic in the U.S., but we're still neglecting the detrimental impact it can have on our health, especially when coupled with the emotionally trying time of divorce.
Freedom from our body loathing won't come from taking more confident selfies, giving Barbie a double chin or determining to love ourselves better by posting unflattering pictures on Instagram. These are all ways we focus more on ourselves and our obsessions, not less.
This guy. Next you're going to tell me it's not rad to leave no trace in your own apartment. Okay, whatever. Like clothes on the floor are so badass. You don't even know man. Quinoa salad is delicious.
One minute I am stressed and miserable. The next, I sigh, my body softens, and I could not be happier. Literally. The highs are so high, they completely dissolve the lows.
My husband must be a masochist. Both his mistresses are needy, expensive and abusive. They are reliable only in that they will always let him down. Donna regularly steals him from me for weeks at a time. And more than half the year, I am a football widow.
Is there a magical number of guests that suggests the marriage will succeed, or that might help a couple limit the number of those invited in order to keep down costs?
Couples consistently try to skip straight to the paperwork. We do our best to ignore the complex emotions swirling around our split in favor of just "filing divorce papers." The problem here is divorce, like marriage, is not about the paperwork, it's about a significant life transition.
As you focus on yourself, you learn to love yourself. When you love yourself you become that elegant, confident, graceful, desirable woman who commands the right kind of attention and praise. Why? Because people can feel you have it together inside and out.
My husband may not whisk me off to another country where he wants to scale the side of a mountain and then slowly repel down so we can bond over our fear of heights, but he does work hard, remember to give the dog her pills and calls me on his way home from work.