Whenever I have a little problem, like how to choose a light bulb, I write a column.

Raise your hand if you and your partner have ever argued over how high to hang a picture.

“Are you okay?” My husband asks, coming into the family room worried, as he should be. I am doubled over crying with laughter

Now, we all know that crossing the gap between knowing and doing is like Evil Knievel jumping the Snake River canyon on skateboard.

If you want to cause a stir, put two experts on the social graces together, and bring up the subject of thank you cards.

“Stationery wardrobe?” I’d never heard that term, but I know a column idea when I hear it.

My husband, DC, and I are in the doghouse. That is, our house is under canine government now that the dogs outnumber us three to two.

As soon as I sized up the situation, I knew, despite my selfish reservations, what to do. Someone had once done the same for me.

Flowers from the yard often have a little crazy wiggle, or a bug-nibbled leaf, giveaways that the bunch is homegrown, which adds a bit of ma

Thank trees for providing a place for kids to climb and build forts, for being a cover for your picnic and a post for your hammock,