Year: 2017

TueNight 10: Jessica Kringle (a.k.a. Mrs. Claus)

1. On the nightstand: Holding Down the Fort: Help and Encouragement for Wives Whose Husbands Travel; ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas; Anything by Liane Moriarty 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Reindeer games. 3. Jam of the minute: Well, I just love the new Gwen Stefani Christmas album and this duet with Blake Shelton, heavens they are cute! Reminds me of me and Kris back in the day. 4. Thing I miss: When the elves didn’t have iPhones. 5. 80’s crush: Heatmiser or Snowmeiser, take your pick. 6. Current crush: Kris of course. 7. Will whine about: Those elves! 8. Will wine about: Eggnog. 9. Best thing that happened yesterday: Donning my apron, baking gingerbread cookies while singing carols. 10. Looking forward to: December 26th.

TueNight 10: Elizabeth Bougerol

A few years ago, Elizabeth Bougerol downed two stiff drinks and ventured out to a jazz jam she’d heard about nearby. There, she sang (something she’d mostly only done in the shower) and met a piano player who shared her love of Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong and Ray Charles. Today, the band they created out of a mission to spread the joy of traditional jazz is doing just that. Their debut album, “The Hot Sardines,” spent more than a year on the Billboard Jazz Chart, and their latest, “French Fries + Champagne,” hit no. 1 at iTunes Jazz, landing them at the Newport Jazz Festival, the Blue Note Festival in Japan, and a few hundred points in-between. Right now she’s prepping a live album, gearing up for 50+ tour dates, and working on a project celebrating the France-America love affair through jazz, slated for next fall. She’s also readying another installment of Ladies First, the NYC dance party/“celebration of badass women musicians”/Planned Parenthood fundraiser she created last year with the skint, the newsletter she co-founded. And she’s …

TueNight 10: Geeta Dalal

At 42, Geeta Dalal is both a bona fide, badass rock and roller AND a stay-at-home Mom. Full disclosure, she and Margit were in the fierce but short-lived ’90s rock band Rockula together. After roughly 13 years off from performing, writing about music and producing content for public radio, Geeta couldn’t resist returning to her axe (and not just any axe: she plays a custom-made checkerboard double-neck 24 string guitar). She now helms the Philly-based RunHideFight. She says, “I actually wrote and recorded a demo in my kids’ playroom. The kids are old enough now that I can take some time to myself. It’s like I’m 17 again, with green hair and playing shows; except this time nature has conveniently bleached my hair for me.” Listen to RunHideFight’s addictive, garage rock goodness while you read Geeta’s TueNight 10: 1. On the nightstand: Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl by Carrie Brownstein; Queen of the Hanukkah Dosas — thank God there’s finally a kids book out there for my lil’ Hin-Jew homeys!2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Seeking the perfect guitar tone; which causes a dangerous wallet gauge …

TueNight 10: Marcelle Karp

Marcelle Karp kept true to form at our TueNight Live: SWAP back in April, when she told a room full of people that, at age 52, she’d had sex with a 25 year old in a stairwell. As the co-creator of BUST, Marcelle was at the forefront of Third Wave Feminism, touting her vibrator and encouraging women to have agency over their sexual lives. Now, she blogs at barbmagazine.com, the site she found in 2016, staying on message: have sex, have the kind of sex you want to have. She’s the mother of the comic Ruby Karp, who just published her feminist tome, Earth Hates Me and also produces and hosts the monthly stand up show, We Hope You Have Fun, at UCB EAST. #proudmama 1. On the nightstand: Earth Hates Me by Ruby Karp. Why We Sleep by Matthew Walker. Heard him on NPR. Another sign that I’m happily middle-aged. 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Look, I’m just not going to stop listening to Pavement. 3. Jam of the minute: Pod Save America. 4. Thing I miss: Brownies on Avenue A. 5. 80’s crush: Springsteen. 6. Current crush: Rocky, my pug. 7. Will whine about: How people don’t return …

TueNight 10: Hitha Herzog

A powerhouse retail analyst and journalist, Hitha Herzog knows how to shop and spend — she runs her own retail and consumer spending research firm and is a regular retail analyst for MSNBC, ABC News and Fox Business. She’s also executive producer and conservative counterpart to co-host Liz Plank on the podcast Divided States of Women.  Not easy to pigeonhole, Hitha wrote for TueNight about being a Fox News Feminist and her marital issues with money in He Said/ She Said with husband, comedian Seth Herzog. Hitha’s spending philosophy?  “Abundance, not scarcity. Meaning: don’t limit your life, just spend within your means”  Preach! 1. On the nightstand: Shoe Dog: A Memoir by the creator of Nike, Phil Knight; gratitude journal; iPhone and iPad. 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Advocating for young women in the workplace. 3. Jam of the minute: “Look What you Made Me Do,” by Taylor Swift. 4. Thing I miss: Fall weather. 5. 80’s crush: Michael Jackson. 6. Current crush: Seth Herzog. 7. Will whine about: Fake feminism, i.e., supporting the cause when it’s good for image and can sell product. 8. Will wine about: I don’t drink, but will stress drink chai tea over #MeToo. 9. Best thing that …

TueNight 10: Lori Leibovich

Lori Leibovich has launched some of our favorite Instagram handles. While she was director of RealSimple.com she started the popular @womenirl, featuring life’s unfiltered moments. (To wit: this kid finding Halloween candy while sitting on top of the fridge). After the Women’s March she launched the inspirational @nastysigns as well as the gorgeous, Americana-filled @ihavethisthingwithsigns. But when she’s not chronicling signage, or touring middle and high schools in NYC for her daughter and son, she’s overseeing all of Time Inc’s health coverage and is the editor in chief of Health magazine and Time Health. We were happy to get an ounce of her free time to ask her about her TueNight 10!  1. On the nightstand: Born To Run by Bruce Springsteen (I read it but I like just having it there); HelloFlo: The Guide, Period: The Everything Puberty Book for the Modern Girl by Naama Bloom (see: 5th grade daughter, above); Her Body And Other Parties: Stories by Carmen Maria Machado; Modern Loss: Candid Conversations About Grief by Rebecca Soffer and Gabrielle Birkner (galleys) 2. Can’t stop/won’t stop: Instagram. It’s a problem. 3. Jam of the minute: Courtney Barnett and Kurt Vile “Lotta Sea …

Now That I’m Over 40, I Cannot and I Will Not… (VIDEO)

“Stop cursing like a sailor!” “Stop having adventures.” “Wear Spanx.” Hell to the yes, sister. We asked several women over 40 about the things they can’t stop/ won’t stop doing, now that they (we) are grown-ass women. We filmed this at our last TueNight Live event in Manhattan, sponsored by AARP (High five AARP! We love our sponsors!) and we’re so happy to have them sponsor this video. It’s all part of their mission to reinvent what it means to age — aka #DisruptAging. So now that YOU are over 40, what’s the thing you won’t stop doing? Watch this video and then tell us in the comments below. We’ll be rounding them up to share, compare and celebrate. No effs left to give. We’re #NobodysMaam

What’s the Most Ageist Thing Anyone Has Ever Said to You? (VIDEO)

“You’re old!” “When are you going to dye your hair?” “You look great for your age!” We asked several women over 40 to share the rudest, funniest, and just plain strange comments they’ve heard about being the age they are. Which um, isn’t old, by the way. We filmed this at our last TueNight Live event in Manhattan, sponsored by AARP (High five AARP! We love our sponsors!) and we’re so happy to have them sponsor this video. It’s all part of their mission to reinvent what it means to age — aka #DisruptAging. What’s the most ageist thing anyone’s ever said to you? Watch this video and then tell us YOUR most ageist story in the comments below. We’ll be rounding them up to share for collective commiseration.  We’re #NobodysMaam.  

TueNight 10: Morra Aarons-Mele

Morra Aarons-Mele is a self-described hermit. She’s happiest working in bed. And yet, she has the big, successful career she’s always wanted. She was inspired to write her recent book, Hiding in the Bathroom: An Introvert’s Roadmap to Getting Out There (When You’d Rather Stay Home) after hearing too many introverted or anxious professionals say they couldn’t pursue their dreams of a big career because they didn’t want to be “out there” all the time. Not true at all, says Morra! And she’s the living proof. As she puts it, you can eat lunch alone, say no, never give a TEDx talk…and still have an amazing career. Hiding in the Bathroom gets into the nitty-gritty about how to do it: from business development to selling yourself to surviving professional conferences and networking events. Morra is also working on a new podcast about smashing the patriarchy. It’s way past time. 1. On the nightstand: Spy fiction (since we’re living in a very Cold War moment). The new John Le Carré, Red Sparrow, (trashy but so good), and my new obsession, Charles’ Cummings’ Thomas Kell series. Also just …

TueNight 10: Monica Lewinsky

Monica Lewinsky is one of us. She’s a Gen-Xer who figured prominently in our 20s, who had to grapple with both her nascent, female power and naive mistakes on an unforgiving international stage.  We witnessed and absorbed the presidential scandal (let’s be clear: the scandal was always his — not hers) with rapt fascination. And maybe we weren’t just watching the news; we were putting ourselves in her shoes, literally (I recall hosting a Halloween party in the late ‘90s where two people showed up in a blue dress and beret). Distancing ourselves, yet, perhaps wondering what we would have done in her place.   Owning her narrative. (Photo: Twitter) In 2017, our national conversation about how women are bullied and shamed has thankfully shifted (though there’s a shit-ton of work still to be done). And at 44, who better to lead that charge than Monica, someone who has faced down ridicule on an almost unfathomable scale — and continues to fight it in her Twitter feed to this day. Monica has become a fierce advocate for anti-bullying, collaborating on a powerful PSA and leading the #ClickWithCompassion campaign during October’s …

Before We Ever Met, He Tattooed My Name on His Hip

When he got my name tattooed on his hip, we hadn’t met yet. He was 50. I had just turned 30. He had a big job in the city at a law firm, lived on Long Island, and wore tailored suits to work. I assumed he was rich. He sounded rich. I was working as a telephone dominatrix from my ramshackle apartment deep in Jersey City and had just filed for bankruptcy. His voice was measured, wise. I liked him more than the others and more than I was supposed to. My voice on the phone, was confident, lulling — often just a whisper. It was one of my trademarks and how I controlled them. I was good at it. The other women on the line thought the guys would spend more money on you if you yelled at them. They were mostly wrong. One of my best clients, a shy music professor from England who had six pet rats, left me five stars and this comment on my site one time: “I’d sell my …

Choosing Calm Over Chaos Made Me Less of an Asshole Mom

For a long time, I couldn’t relate to mother-daughter relationship drama stories. I was way too preoccupied with an operatic level of paternal drama for that. My father’s attentions, and the absence thereof, consumed my childhood. I was too busy being adored, smacked, screamed at, and gaslighted by my dad to have any emotional space left to hate my mom. My own daughter, Amira, was born 11 days after my 30th birthday. Four and a half years later, my son Lev was born. I did the stay-at-home-mom thing for 10 years, throughout my 30s. My job performance was fair. In the “pro” column: I think I gave my kids pretty good advice about how to stand down bullies. “If someone teases you,” I said, “squint real hard, look totally grossed out and say: ‘Ewww…! What’s that green stuff coming out of your nose?!?’” They both say it never came to that, but I know they knew what I was getting at: Don’t dignify shitty behavior. You’re bigger than that. My temper, however, was at the …

Life Blindsided Me And Then I Learned to See.

One Sunday afternoon about fifteen years ago, I wandered into a panel discussion at The Brooklyn Public Library just as Carmen Boullousa, the Mexican poet and novelist, was being asked a question. “How do you write?” the questioner asked. Carmen Boullousa threw her hands up in the air and slammed them down the table in front of her. “You don’t know what you’re doing!” she burst forth, with a shout and a laugh. “You start off blinded, and you work until you begin to see.” I was 37 or 38 at the time, with a husband and two young daughters doing whatever they were doing in our Prospect Heights brownstone a few blocks away. And for as long as I could remember, I’d been trying to connect life’s dots with a modicum of elegance and a minimum of fuss. Determined to press on, to be a trooper, to feign competence, to not give passport, ever, to a willingness to be blinded. Carmen Boullousa was talking about writing but I sensed her advice might help me …

That Last Day I Ever Trusted My Father

I trusted my father to always do the right thing because he constantly barked at my sister and me about how hard he was working for us to have a good home, go to good schools, go to college, etc. My father was the first Black man ever hired at Western Electric in their managerial program. He did a lot of good, helping other Black folks get jobs, being the President of the NAACP chapter, and integrating the Kiwanis and Lions civic organizations. In hindsight, though, there were signs I shouldn’t have trusted him as much as I did. He was of the generation of men who did not cry and were not affectionate with their family. From the time I was four years old, I knew that he and my mother didn’t have a very loving relationship. When I was five, I remember being awakened by a huge fight they had one night. They were yelling at each other, and she grabbed a giant glass ashtray and tried to smash him in his head …

The Day I Stopped Trusting My Memory

“I don’t have time for this shit,” I grumbled to myself as I searched the apartment for my keys. Moving piles of unopened mail around on the kitchen table, I felt the familiar pit in my stomach begin to grow. “Why didn’t I put the keys on its porcelain dish as usual?” I chastised myself. “And why was this happening so often lately?” Just last week, I went searching for my iPhone and found it in the freezer. In the freezer. Don’t even ask me how I did that because — guess what — I don’t remember. Back in my years before Impending Cronehood, I had a remarkable memory — almost photographic. Dates, names, and intimate details were etched into my brain so clearly that I could recall them vividly, and I was often used as my friend’s journals, to be opened when their own recollections of the past grew hazy. “Hey, Issa, what was the name of that guy I used to date our freshman year in college? You know, the one who was …

Why Don’t We Trust the Institutions We Create?

In June of 2017, the Gallup organization conducted its “CONFIDENCE IN INSTITUTIONS” poll, which it has been conducting pretty much every year since 1973. And this year, despite what you might expect would be some sort of pre-apocalyptic low water mark in America’s trust in institutions, our trust in general went up. Specifically, it went up 3 percent. The poll measures confidence in 14 major public institutions — from public schools to banks to labor unions to the Supreme Court to police to big business to small business to newspapers to television news to churches to the military to the medical system and, yes, measuring trust in Congress and the presidency as well. The fine people at Gallup found that in 2016 just 32 percent of the American people on average said they trusted these institutions. A year later — this is THIS YEAR — we now trust these institutions 3 percent more or a WHOPPING 35 percent. Now, you may be thinking — as I was when I encountered this data — that WHOA, that 35 percent …

TueNight Live: Photos from “TRUST”

Walking into the red room at Spring Place, one of our storytellers, Jenny Douglas squealed, “This place is like a ’70s sunken living room!” Later, she corrected herself and whispered, “No, it’s more as if Hugh Hefner had a vagina. I love it.” Last week, on October 17, we brought TueNight Live and our TRUST issue,  to the seriously swanky Spring Place, where we shared wine, sandwiches, and — of course — stories, in a sort of loungey theater in the square, with a beautiful view of Tribeca. Margit kicked off the evening, thanking both Spring Place for hosting and our evening’s sponsor, AARP. Reading her story via her phone — because 2017 — Dori Fern described how choosing calm over chaos improved her relationship with her kids. (While she read her story off her phone, her daughter actually texted her, “do you have the laundry card on you?”) After fixing our microphone (it was backward — sigh) Crystal Durant told a harrowing story of learning her father was untrustworthy. Oft CNN contributor Sally Kohn posed …

Get Tickets to Our Next Event in Manhattan!

  CLICK HERE FOR TICKETS! Join the TueNight crew for an evening of storytelling around the theme TRUST. We’ll be in the swanky Spring Place red room, where we’ll drink cocktails, enjoy hors d’oeuvres and put our trust in — who else? Each other. Our Storytellers: Jenny Douglas (@BrooklynCottage), founder of The Brooklyn Cottage, television producer, and helper of women going through divorce Issa Mas (@IssaMas), New York single mom balancing writing, raising a 10-yr-old and staying sane. BlogHer Voice of the Year, 2012 Sally Kohn (@sallykohn), founder and CEO of the Movement Vision Lab and CNN commentator Crystal Durant (@DJCrystalClear6), Black Renaissance woman, vocalist and performance artist who writes for the Z Review and Forces of Geek Lu Chekowsky, SVP of Brand Creative at Comedy Central. She once ate a turkey sandwich with Britney Spears Dori Fern (@dorifern), Content marketing strategist and award-winning latke expert CLICK HERE FOR TICKETS!

TueNight Live: Glowing on a Brooklyn Rooftop [PHOTOS]

Could there be a more beautiful night? On June 27 we took our latest event, GLOW, to the rooftop of the co-working space and sponsor Industrious Brooklyn. The sky was, indeed, glowing. All photos are by the wonderful Kalya O’Donoghue. Hosts Karen and Margit mingle with friend (and TueNight contributor) Lauren Young. Over 80 people joined us! Our biggest crowd yet.  Margit introduced our esteemed batch of beautiful storytellers. Carolyn Edgar kicked things off with her poignant (and very relatable) essay bemoaning the difficulty of pleasing both her kids and herself at the same time. Amy Silverstein ducked in between TV interviews to read from her moving, beautiful new book The Glory Was I Had Such Friends. We were rapt… Then Alice brought down the house, as she does, with her narration of a very non-romantic night of edible ingestion. We took a pause to eat some of the delicious food provided by Brooklyn locals R & D foods and Alta Calidad. We gave ourselves a little “glow” from BeautyCounter. And of course we drank rosé. Duh. Copies of Amy, Alice and Stephanie’s books were available …

The Glow of A Warrior Woman

The sun is a glowing ball of fire in the sky and every pore of my body is sweating. I’m on mile three of the morning run, jogging along manicured lawns in an upscale neighborhood outside of Bangkok. The smell of the morning air is a mix of dampness, jasmine, car exhaust and tropical decay. The Thai sunrise looks different to me, seeing it from the other side of the world from my home. That ball of fire in the sky glows a different orange-pink, not a typical yellow, which I learn later might be air pollution. A few weeks after the US election last year I decided I didn’t need to keep delaying my craziest dreams. Reality was upside down, so why keep waiting to see the world? I booked a ticket to go with my Muay Thai boxing gym for a two-week fight camp in Thailand. I’ve traveled internationally maybe four times. I came to martial arts two years ago, after recovering from some chronic health issues. I wanted to celebrate beating the …

The Best Voice in the World Is… Need You Ask?

For the most part, I don’t trust most people’s taste in music. To debate a musical topic or question with someone is to know for sure that you and your opponent have a shared music-listening lineage and appreciation or, at the very least, the two of you share a mutual understanding and interest for the music that one of you likes that the other person doesn’t. For me, someone with a baseline understanding of many musical genres, the mutual understanding thing is tricky, especially when the mutuality is to be established with: 1. A non-black person — especially a non-black person who hasn’t spent much time around black people. 2. A black person who hasn’t spent much time around non-black people 3. A much-younger person — any race, doesn’t matter. 3a. Case in point: my much-younger white coworker who didn’t know Bananarama’s “Venus” outside of the razor commercial (which until writing this piece and being schooled by our beloved EIC Margit I didn’t know was originally sung by the Dutch garage band Shocking Blue) 3b. …

It’s Getting Hot in Here: The Sweaty Signifier of Age

I was at the kind of music festival that draws packs of “festies,” young people who travel from concert to concert in the summertime wearing Indian-print skirts and bikini tops, their skin pierced and tattooed, wafting a fragrance that commingles pot and patchouli, with a base note of humid sleeping bag. An afternoon spent among them was making me feel my age, 48 at the time. They were groovy goddesses of their own anointing, with crazy-curly-cool hair highlighted in green and purple, bare feet kicking up dirt as they danced. They looked like beautiful children with their exposed tummies — flat or rounded, it did not seem to matter which — playful and unselfconscious. I was sitting under a dusty sycamore, wondering how weird I’d look if I starting reading my library book, when it struck me: a bolt of searing heat, a sudden scrambling of the brain. A hot flash is a bit like a menstrual cramp or migraine. Even if you’ve never had one, you know it when you feel it. And perhaps …

Am I Allowed to Be Happy Even If My Kids Are Not?

I was raised to believe that happiness and motherhood were inherently incompatible, if not irreconcilable. I learned from my mother’s example. Mothers did not live to be happy. Mothers lived to be useful. Mothers lived to be productive. I don’t remember my mother ever talking about being happy. I do remember her always working, laboring, being useful to others. My mother’s hands seemed like they never stopped moving. If she wasn’t pulling strings off string beans or picking worms off tomatoes in her garden, she was peeling apples for a pie or peaches for a cobbler. Or, she was sewing us or herself a new outfit, or turning our old outgrown clothes into quilts. Over time, arthritis made sewing too difficult, but she kept cooking and gardening until the day she took her last breath. As infants, my children were born pushy, in that way that is socially acceptable only for babies and cats. My daughter came out stubborn, demanding and unapologetic. My son, on the other hand, used his fat cheeks, bright eyes and …

A Luminous Photograph with a Story to Tell

It’s a photograph no one else but me could have taken. My mother didn’t take it, that’s for sure. She was great in front of the camera, her rightful place, and pretended — feminine wiles, how quaint — not to understand how to depress the shutter button on a point-and-shoot. My ex-husband was a distracted photographer with an artsy eye that didn’t translate to family photos. Twenty-five years later, no, Philip, I don’t remember whose earlobe that is. But Philip didn’t take it. I’ll describe the image. My daughter, Sophia, is three. Her hair is summer blonde and flows. She is wearing a yellow dress that is now packed in a bin marked “Girls,” in the basement of my building. My father, Tom, is 67. He is tanned and grey and rugged, with a big dad head, square and block-sturdy, the kind of dad head you don’t see much anymore, who knows why, something to do with the internet? Craniums diminish to accommodate next level evolution? I don’t know. Anyway, my father with his big …

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Baked Goods and Bad Trips

Last June was our 16th anniversary, so Scott and I spent a weekend at this funky hotel in the Catskills. Every room is themed at this place. I chose a space-themed room. It was appropriately far out. Before we left, Scott mentioned that one of his coworkers, a fellow video editor, had gifted us an edible. A pot cookie, in other words. (I feel like I’m a million years old when I say “pot cookie” but I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right to say “edible.”) He apparently was a frequent user (and baker, I guess) of such things, and thought we’d have fun with it. Sure, I said! Pot’s fun! Couple of important details: First, I smoked pot plenty in my twenties, but not really since. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but it’s … changed a little, in the past twenty-odd years. I learned this a couple of years ago, when I shared a one-hitter with a friend and spent the next few hours paranoid and hyper, my face in a jumbo bag of Cheetos. Number …

June Issue: You Glow, Girl

Hey you! We’re back with a new issue and it’s a hot and spicy scorcher. Our theme this week is Glow — as in “Glow little glow worm glimmer, glimmer.” As in fiery pink and orange lights blazing across a June night. Embers in a summertime campfire. The afterglow from some afternoon delight. Al fresco dinner by candlelight, feeling flushed with some red, red wine. Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (G.L.O.W.) power slams, then and now. The dazzling rainbow of Pride. Fireflies. The light in a child’s beaming face. Our own ambition, our own happiness, our own dynamic glow. When we hit that midlife mark we think we lose a certain glow — a rosy, just-pinched freshness. We sallow. We fade. That’s oh so much bullshit. I turned 50 last week, and have never felt a more intense inner and outer glow. Maybe it was resurfacing a year after a scary health crisis, maybe it was singing karaoke and then getting an unwanted lap dance (don’t ask), or maybe it was that final shot of Fish …

TueNight Live: Photos From “SWAP”

We came, we listened, we drank, we noshed and of course we swapped! Last Tuesday, we huddled at the lovely Collab fabrication, lab and innovation studio, in downtown Manhattan to hear a host of hilarious and moving TueNight tales about life swaps — from changing our age, to career pivots to spiritual transformations. And people brought personal items to swap. More on that below. (All photos by Kacy Jahanbini unless otherwise noted.) Margit introduced the night of readers, thanked the wonderful Adina Levin for hosting at her space, and gave props to Tattly for providing the evening’s body art. Lynn Harris kicked off the evening with some feminist mojo, reading “Why I Changed My Son’s Last Name to My Own.” Wendy Marston described, in bitchy detail, “The Magic of the Bitch and Swap.” Wendy Sachs gave us her expertise on career swaps after a few of her own, which she charts in her new book Fearless and Free: How Smart Women Pivot and Relaunch their Careers. (Highly recommended!) We always love to see a few regulars and meet a few newbies. …

Hold Up, Wait a Minute

Hi folks, Just a note to say that we’ll be taking a website hiatus for the next few months to work on a revamp of the site, but don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere. We’ll still be sending out our weekly TueDo List newsletter, now on Tuesdays. Our next event and issue will be a HOT one. TueNight Live will be outside on a fabulous roof deck, June 27, and the theme is GLOW – get tickets now. And check out photos from our last event. We also have our fast-growing TueNighter Facebook community! Join in the conversation (this week we’ve been gabbing about The Handmaid’s Tale) Stay in touch while we cook up some special goodies. And we have so many past issues you can peruse: Swap, Adventure, Comfort, Wild Card, Fail, Money, Immigrant, Sleep, Sisters and more! We will likely poke our heads back in here from time to time, but stay tuned for a more badass update of TueNight.com. Taking a pause that refreshes, Margit  

He’s 25. I’m 53. What Could Go Wrong?

“Make my day go from good to great and tell me you don’t mind that I’m 25, not 45.” Oh, this old trick. Present yourself as a Gen-Xer when you’re really a millennial. I understand of course; my age, in the universe of dating apps, is a moving target. I have the slightest amount of empathy. Slight enough to answer him back at 1:30am instead of falling asleep. Like middle-aged humans do. “You’re closer in age to my daughter than you are to me.” Dating-wise, the formula I’m fond of applying is half my age plus seven. I’m 53. Even with my Bumble age — 46 — this 25-year-old doesn’t make the cut. Unless I make an exception. We’re playing the same game, after all. The liberal age gap. He generously adds 20 years to his age, I’m mindfully lowering mine and we’re both hoping that somewhere along this sliding scale we’ll each get what we want. “I find you very sexy. I don’t care about your age or mine. I want to get to …

Baby Shower 2.0: Celebrating My Transgender Son’s New Identity

The blue jellybeans were assembled in pint-sized mason jars on my kitchen table. My husband was about to head to the store to pick up the balloon bouquet while I put finishing touches on the decorations. The kids and I had made a batch of homemade chocolate ice cream, and the giant, freshly baked chocolate chip cookie was frosted in blue with our son’s new name: Max Grayson. “It’s A Boy!” read the banner across the wall and on the sign in the front yard. We were thrilled to welcome so many excited guests to our home for “Baby Shower 2.0.” We had already thrown our child a baby shower back in 2008, back when we named him Mary Grace and thought he was our daughter. Our son is nine years old now and has been telling us he is a boy since he was two. Once we were able to finally recognize that he was transgender — a process that was neither fast nor easy — and then took the steps necessary to officially …