Tag: birkenstocked

    Well, I asked for it.     Remember when I used to write a lot about my daughter and the joys of motherhood? Sure you do. Some of you actually liked those columns, and, to this day, urge me to return to that topic. Others of you let me know, in ways both kind and not so, that you’d rather read the fine print on your water bill than one more word about my beloved offspring. Fair enough. I finally got the message (we doting moms can be a little thick) and set off for topical ports unknown (not as much fun as tropical ports unknown, but still exciting); I began writing about a host of other issues that seemed important to me. I knew I was wading into murkier, more turbulent waters, and that I might get roughed up a little. But I figured, Hey, once you’ve had someone tell you to ‘shut up already about your freakin’ kid,’ (yes, in those exact words) nothing can touch you.