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I feel really lucky that I live in a place where I don’t get a lot of disapproving comments about my parenting. I’m sure if I were to bring KFC to school, or give one of my kids a whack,

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Whatcha gonna do with all that junk?

Me, at 16, with Mark Darling and my smoking bod So, I’ve gotten fat. Fat for me. I have cellulite on my upper arms and my gut is looking a little fanny-packish. It’s not the first time. It won’t be

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Why it’s fun to be a twin

Built-in bathtub toys…

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Thing I learned in Santa Barbara

I had to fly down to Santa Barbara and back again today for work.  I was checking out the amazing Dr. Seuss-meets-Gaudi work of architect Jeff Shelton for an upcoming story.  If you don’t believe good design makes people happy,

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it’s possible that I am well on my way to becoming a butter old lady.  My cup has always been more empty than full (I wish, I wish, I wish I were an eternal optimist.  Alas.) but lately 

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We’re here.  So far, so good.  Activities to date include: -Happy hour margaritas down at the beach. -Swimming in the pool. -Much quesadilla eating. -The kids trying to figure out the concept of Mexico.  Is that store Mexico?  Is that

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Kids, surfing and why eco-paint is so great

True and real conversation overheard in front of the surf shop by my house: GUY WITH SURFBOARD BALANCED ON HIS HEAD “Dude, the thing about kids it they totally cut into your surfing, big time.” GUY IN SURF HOODIE: “Dude.”

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New Years resolutions suck except when they are based on advice from Jonathan Adler

I know New Year’s resolutions are  load of crap setting you up for disappointment and failure.  But I’ve never managed to get out from under their spell.  I’m a sucker for all that fresh start stuff and making resolutions is

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Oklahoma, where the wind comes rushing down the plains

Well, we’re in Oklahoma City after two plane rides, a long layover in Dallas, a hideous meal at T.G.I. Fridays in the Dallas/Forth Worth airport (if you are ever there, please just do me the favor of not stooping to

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Oh my God.  Oh my God.  Oh my God. This is better. Much better. Here is the text of my 65-year-old father’s message to me tonight.  He’s in Vermont, three hours ahead: “Hi Sam. It’s your dad. It’s whatever time.

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