Kate Ryan

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

Recently, it was announced that the Ocean’s Eleven remake will be ladies-only too. Could it be that we’ve embarked on an era in which women take center stage?

Like booster engines emptied of fuel, my limbs become disposable, useless tanks as the blood rushes from them.

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.

You could take this easy, informative quiz to find out with whom you side on important legislative issues and social policies. Or you could go my route and pick your candidate based on what dinosaur they resemble.