Today is the first day of our family vacation in Texas. I’m super cranky. I could blame it on flying by myself with three kids, renting a car, getting lost, finally finding the hotel, then getting everyone fed, bathed and in front of a television. But that’s not it. I am not a good traveler.
Maybe it’s that I’m within a blink of turning 40, maybe it’s that my oldest will start junior high this August. Whatever the cause, I find myself lately taking mental snapshots of my family.
Ray Bradbury died June 5, 2012, at age 91. Associate editor John Nagy reflected on his work in a summer 2011 essay.
In strips 134-139 of the popular comic Molarity, which previewed in The Observer in 1977, Chuck decides to make an explosive political statement.
Even though the Dansko clog confounds the critics, this quirky fashion rebel helps women go through life feet first.
When it comes to make-overs, it may help to change clothes and alter appearances. But still, it’s what’s inside that counts.
The author, his reputation hanging by a thread, is saved from a potential Red Carpet embarrassment.
Wrigley Field’s organist played “My Way” while Chicago Cubs pitcher Kerry Wood walked off the mound for the last time. Wood probably came as close as any professional athlete could to retiring on his own terms, which says a lot about the reluctant endings of most careers.
The other day, as my husband was clipping my daughter into her car seat, he picked up a pickle slice from the floor of my minivan. I was so busted.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the 31st strip in the updated, continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. Sometimes communication between the generations needs a translator.
I wallowed and job-searched for about two months before doing some real self-evaluating and coming to a refreshing conclusion. Having supportive parents and a place to go back to, as it turns out, is not the worst thing in the world.
“Of all hostilities,” Dorothy Day once wrote, “one of the saddest is the war between clergy and laity.” She penned those words in the summer of 1964 as some controversy, long since forgotten, roiled the Catholic Church in America.
Meg McElwee ’03 knows that the best things in life are often the most simple, like buzzing two pieces of fabric through a sewing machine, sketching out plans for a new dress or running her fingers over the fabric that will soon become a fort for her boys.
A California surfer-artist goes entrepreneurial to market his own line of freestyle clothing
The academy gets few awards for sartorial distinction.
In the wee hours of this morning, I woke up with the dog snoring in my ear, his leg over my shoulder. Owning the dog hasn’t turned out exactly the way I planned, but then neither have a lot of things in life, such as parenting my kids. I’m not sure what I thought parenting was going to be like.
Mother decries silly wardrobe choices for children, asks: ‘What are we thinking?’
It’s easy to lose sight of the fact — especially at universities where theory is a favorite pastime and ideas often remain in the abstract — that design is everywhere.
Like everything in Asbury Park, the Pony has seen better days. No longer do the leather-jacketed bards of the boardwalk stomp its stage. But once upon a time the likes of Bruce Springsteen and Southside Johnny launched their careers here, and one clear Sunday afternoon five years ago a group of unshaven suburban kids made their debut at this lead-painted cradle of rock. We clearly had no idea what the hell we were doing.
Strips 130-134 of the popular comic Molarity, which previewed in The Observer in 1977, take on printer problems, porn and gambling. Just another week in the Molarity universe.
Fashion trends reflect the changing roles of women in society.
Actor Dan O’Brien ’99 was tailgating before the Notre Dame at Stanford game last Thanksgiving weekend when a fellow tailgater began gesturing wildly in his direction and approached him. As one of the co-stars of Whitney, NBC’s hit ensemble comedy, O’Brien has had to adjust to being recognized — and sometimes accosted — by fans.
Conway Hall opens in London — and for the first time Notre Dame has a student residence beyond campus it can call its own.
This is my “Mom Brain” in action. I’m in a book store browsing titles, and I do a double-take on History and Lice, which was what I read on the spine of a book called History and Life.
“You are going to die today,” I kept thinking. But I couldn’t get the words out. I’ve never had to say those exact words to a patient before. I’ve told dozens of patients they have an incurable disease that will ultimately claim their life. It’s an abstract concept at that point.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the 30th strip in the updated, continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. The newspaper’s “question of the day” might be a little slanted…
At first glance, Notre Dame in the wintertime isn’t exactly a bastion of fashion. Couture takes a backseat to cozy in the teeth of South Bend’s chilling climate. But take a look past the dull blacks and browns, and ND’s subtle sidewalk style starts to emerge.
Role-playing students swap daytime attire for a night on the town
I live in fear of those cable television shows where they videotape some unsuspecting woman, stage a fashion intervention where all her friends and family tell her how awful she dresses, then throw away her entire wardrobe, give her lots of money to go buy new clothes and cut off her hair.
The Fighting Irish join a uniform trend by changing wardrobes for special occasions