Mommy with a Penis

My husband taught me to enjoy free stuff .  Whether at a fudge counter in Solvang or a sex shop in Sausalito I have heard him query, "Could I get a sample of that?" This is always delivered with a smile, usually with a flirty air, and people seem to be attracted to and then comply with what I used to think was an unreasonable demand. And Michael is so good at flirt-asking  that not only does he secure the taste or spritz, but I have seen him walk away with free bars of designer soap and the occasional complimentary glass of Pol Roger Champagne. Now, I'll be honest, his unabashed groveling shamed me for a while, but over the years my position has softened and I have learned to enjoy the gratis  whatchamajigger every now and again. While maintaining this blog, I have been offered free stuff from time to time, most of which I've turned down. (Although there was that extra large mommy t-shirt that looked like a extra small leotard on me...not a pretty sight.) But befo...

On December 19th I arrived with the children at Newark Airport around ten in the evening, got to the hotel about eleven, reunited with Michael and the four of us took our first walk to Times Square close to midnight. At one point, Maxwell, who'd never seen such hustle and bustle, slowed down to a halt and asked in a small voice filled with apprehension and wonder, "Can we just stay here?" Ah, yes. I remember that fresh off the turnip truck feeling only too well. The Big Apple is very special to me. It was my home for twelve years, not to mention it was also where Michael and I met and professed our undying love, so I couldn't wait to visit my old stomping grounds, walk the streets, ride the subway, see shows on the way  identified as Broad, and chow down eats that are in direct conflict with my diet: pastrami on rye, late-night slices of Ray's, street-vendor falafel, and an honest to gawd toasted New York bagel with a schmear. One significant difference fr...