I breastfed my daughter for six months.

One of the pros of breastfeeding, aside from the obvious good it does the baby, is saving money. Well, that’s what they say anyway. While this may have been true at one time, it’s hardly true today. My husband and I invested a small fortune in breastfeeding. From pumps to storage systems to special bras and bra inserts to all sorts of accessories (pads, creams, gels, ointments). We even bought something called a breast stool, which despite its name is actually for feet. Anyway, you name it and we had to have it.

I say “we” because he, my husband Jason, played a huge role in my ability to breastfeed our daughter. It sounds funny to say but without his support, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. From day one, I struggled. I struggled with latching and then unlatching. The…

Hangover Mimosa
We laughed till the sun rose
Memories and wine were to blame
You couldn’t feel your nose
I might have forgotten my name

Ceiling spins and it rushes back to me
Stomach erupts as cartoons pierce my brain
Reminds me of responsibility
Oh how we now need to breathe through the pain

This time the hair of the dog won’t fix it
When the new puppy pees on the floor
Unsupervised minions run rampant
We must be Mommy and Daddy once more.

Plop plop fizz fizz in our OJ sure hits the spot.
A relief it is… though a mimosa it’s not.

I wrote this “poem” a few weeks ago in response to an event that happened with my dad. He’s been going through a lot of changes lately and, as a family, we’ve been struggling trying to seek medical assistance and a diagnosis. Yesterday, he was finally diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Dementia.

The following is less a poem and more or less a vomiting of my feelings onto the page. It’s raw and unedited and I plan to leave it that way.

I’m going to see my dad tomorrow. So I’m sharing this with you now as a way of getting it, along with some of the feelings and fears it represents, off of me as I move with my family into the future and try to figure out what this diagnosis means for my dad, for my family and for me.

Untitled by Val Zane
It’s not so hard for me…

For my screenwriting class, I needed to analyze the first 10 minutes of a movie. I was going to go with something traditional, like say When Harry Met Sally, which has a well-known solid beginning, but after a friend suggested it, perhaps jokingly, my brain kept returning to Shaun of the Dead—a perhaps lesser known movie but one that I love. As a zombie flick, it technically falls in the genres of Horror (though, while violent, it’s honestly not a bit scary) and Comedy. At its core, it’s a love story and quite a hilarious one at that. Not your traditional RomCom, it’s more of a Zom-Rom-Com.

Shaun of the Dead is a great movie from start to finish and all of the promises which the movie sets out to fulfill are set up perfectly in its first 10 minutes. What makes the beginning…

This blog goes out to all the non-winners and the people who’ve judged them…

I recently entered a writing contest and lost. No big deal. That happens… a lot. I don’t feel bad about it, considering the majority of people who enter contests lose and I’m sure I’m in good, if not great, company.

The thing is I wasn’t expecting to win. Although winning would have been awesome, that’s actually not why I entered. I entered because contests are a great way to share work and get nonbiased feedback, constructive criticism and helpful comments. For the most part, I’ve found contests to be a useful tool in improving my writing. That is my primary goal.

But recently I entered a contest and one judge in particular was pretty nasty.

It was a simple 3-page contest. How nasty can someone be judging just three pages? Well, this judge’s comments read like…

Take less
Give more
Procrastinate less
Write more
Thirst less
Drink more
Spend less
Save more
Snack less
Workout More
Whine less
Smile more
Cocktail less
Wine more
Ache less
Sleep more
Dry out less
Moisturize more
Worry less
Meditate more
Nitpick less
Celebrate more
Cry less
Laugh more
Dislike less
Love more
Bitch less
Adore more
Sit less
Play more
Limit less
Imagine more
Fear less
Dream more
Want less
Be more.

At precisely 10 seconds to midnight tonight, my husband and I will not-only be puckering up, like many of you, with a plan to kiss in the New Year like we do every year, but we’ll also be celebrating our 10 year anniversary!

That’s 10 years together as a couple and a whole decade of happy New Years!!

Wow?! Yay us!

At the culmination of 2001, we were with friends on the dance floor of a packed club in New York City, and just as the deejay started the 10 second countdown clock and the whole place and everyone in it got revved up and ready to ring in 2002, that’s the moment when Jason, the sweet, funny, smart, sexy (and at the time, soon-to-be) love of my life who I’d been seeing on and off for a little over a month (but who I knew for a little over…