After 30 years of dating the wrong men, which had left me feeling hopeless, I finally met my future husband in a yoga class at 7 a.m. in Los Angeles, when I least expected it. I was wearing no makeup, sweaty and half awake, but it was all in perfect, divine timing. (OK, maybe I was wearing a little lip gloss, just in case.)
Working with family is not for everyone. Unmanaged personal baggage can strain professional relationships. But there’s an upside to working with someone who knows you the way a close relative does.
Dating in the 21st century is hard.
Although we have multiple ways to meet, communicate with, flirt with and break up with boys, the biggest dating hurdle in the modern age may in fact be that we are all too available.
In her daily life, Cici Rojas glad-hands the movers and shakers of Kansas City, reaching out on behalf of Truman Medical Centers and as a member of a dizzying array of civic boards.
When I was in first grade, I wrote a book about beauty. It was entitled Beuty Tips — hey, I was close — and was intended to be an instructional guide for my teacher, a young single lady who I thought could benefit from a 7-year-old’s advice about eye makeup and exercise.
Every year millions of Americans pledge to lose weight and live healthier lifestyles, but those resolutions usually fall to the wayside, and we succumb to the fast-paced reality of full-time jobs, family commitments and active social lives — leaving little room for daily visits to the gym or for cooking healthy meals.
If a picture is worth 1,000 words, imagine the stories contained in a piece of antique or vintage furniture.
I stood on the top of a small mountain in Golden, Colorado, with two of my best friends, Sophie and Maree. We had just hiked up the rather tortuous path, toting a six-pack of beer and blaring songs from my iPhone. This wasn’t just your average boozy hike. We were on a mission.
Throughout history, Americans have fought for freedom, for territories, for religion, and for love. Nowadays, we seem to be fighting for healthier, longer, more fulfilling lives, bringing the revolution home to an internal level. One of the most recent fights on our hand is a confusing one, because it goes against much of what we’ve been taught our entire lives.
The best-known characters in Kansas City’s barbecue story are men. Arthur Bryant. Ollie Gates. Jack Fiorella. K.C. Masterpiece founder Rich Davis. Oklahoma Joe’s Jeff Stehney.
The best burger in Kansas City contains tears of joy and the breath of a thousand angels. It’s also made out of real unicorn meat, and following it on Twitter might be the best way to track it down.
I made my film debut as a Bond girl, fearlessly steering a speedboat off the coast of Monte Carlo. Behind the wheel, solo and sassy, I was a fox on the French Riviera.
The simple act of tearing off a phone number from one of those handwritten, photocopied ads posted on Bongo Java’s bulletin board back in 1995 determined the course of my next 15 summers. “We’re forming a new Ultimate Frisbee women’s team,” the flyer said.
George Gershwin’s jazzy show tune “Summertime,” from the 1935 opera Porgy and Bess, could have been written about outdoor summer theater in Kansas City.
In 1956, when more women than ever before were giving their babies store-bought formula, seven women in Franklin Park, Ill., decided to feed their babies the old-fashioned way. They called themselves La Leche League.
Many of us are lucky to have one wonderful mother. I have had three: my mom, my stepmom and former mother-in-law. While they lived very different lives, all of them were strong women who greatly influenced who I am today.
The Kansas City metro area may boast a population of more than 2 million people and span across 15 counties, but the heart of Kansas City consists of neighborhoods that are as distinctive and unique as the people who call them home. We've compiled a guide to Kansas City, featuring fun things to do and cool places to visit to get a taste of our versatile Midwest culture.
The shovel beat-down that erupted out of our friendly neighborhood crack house that sunny Sunday morning cast a certain pall over brunch.
Katie Greer has seen it all in her neighborhood: crushed cans, plastic pop bottles, shards of glass, shredded and wadded paper, snuffed cigarette butts, moldy leaves and brush, dog poop, graffiti, and dumped tires.
Whenever a new passenger slides into the back of Lo Demanche’s taxi, she can pretty much guess what they’re going to say.