Kate Ryan

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

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

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

We all love our dogs. However, some of us take it a little too far, convincing ourselves that our dogs are actually our children. You call your dog your “baby” one day, and the next thing you know, you’re pushing him or her down the street in an expensive stroller. How did we get here? Trust me, it’s a slippery slope. Here are 12 signs you might have a dog-child.

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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.