An Gorta Mór
We were looking for a playground in New York’s Financial District. Which–in retrospect–strikes me as a hope so wild as to be laughable. Really? A swing set? On Wall Street? But the explorer-mama, alone with her three-year-old in an unfamiliar place, will sometimes indulge wild hopes. Furthermore, wild hopes are sometimes rewarded. There is, in …
Big Fiction
I was a teenage thrift shop fiend. It always felt a bit like going to the library: Searching through stacks of hmmm, ehhh, no thanks, for that one quirky rarity, that wonder of weird. I loved the creaky floors, the old women at the register, but most of all I loved stumbling on some vintage building …