I’ve always been convinced that I’m incapable of being on vacation at home; the landslide of household minutia resides too close, the laptop too easily accessible. I’m pretty sure even my therapist typed me as someone who needs to leave the premises in order to truly sink into vacation.

But last week I proved myself wrong. And . . . → Read More: We All Drive The Bus

After the shenanigans that ensued at BlogHer last year, I was a little worried about this year’s conference. I mean, I definitely planned on heading to New York, but I was nervous nonetheless. About potential fodder to perpetuate the bad mommy blogger rap. About the size of the conference. About potential bad brand & blogger behavior. . . . → Read More: What Made BlogHer Awesome, And What I Left With (Emotionally and Intellectually, Not Swag-Wise)

Yesterday afternoon, a reporter from the Boston Herald called my home number.

A number I never give out professionally. Because, you know, it’s my home number.

A number I have listed under my husband’s name so I’m not easy to find. Because even though I know that my stalker ex-boyfriend from the early 1990’s knows my husband’s . . . → Read More: In Which the Boston Herald Acted No Better Than My Stalker Ex-Boyfriend