Life Abroad

Here I was, in the throes of labor and in comes the doctor, wearing . . . no, not scrubs, not a white coat, but . . . .

Locked out, barefoot and phone-less, in the hot sun, on the balcony of a new apartment where you don’t know a soul. Not good.

You think the French drip good taste, elegance, and sophistication? Here is some funky French stuff that may leave you gobsmacked.

It wasn’t polite of me to not fess up to a bad deed while vacationing in Italy. For years now I’ve been living with a tiny shred of guilt.

Cooking disasters, anyone? I was once faced with a culinary fiasco of mystifying proportions while living in an African village.