Winona Dimeo-Ediger
Bio
Winona Dimeo-Ediger Articles
I regularly call upon personal saints for help. Really specific ones whose sainthood only exists in my own mind, but they’re very effective. Today I’d like to introduce you to a few of them; feel free to call on them as often as needed.
Read...While buttoning my pants today I found to my dismay / that my skinny jeans get skinnier with every passing day. / For the past few months, in fact, I’ve watched with shock and wonder / as my stomach’s gotten softer and my thighs accrued more thunder.
Read......canning stuff is the best. It makes you feel like a badass pioneer woman preparing for the Oregon Trail except in this scenario you’re making orange basil marmalade for brunches rather than sustenance and you have unlimited access to a shower.
Read...I’d been so busy patting myself on the back for conquering my big fears, I failed to acknowledge that the types of things that scare me had shifted. A lot of the obvious stuff didn’t bother me anymore — but what about all the smaller, more personal things that still scared the living shit out of me?
Read...If the weather has you cooped up with your partner, here's how to cope and bond instead of snap and split.
Read...When you’re helping people zip up dresses and watching their reactions to certain items of clothing, you start noticing patterns. Here are four of the phrases I hear most often in the dressing room, and how I wish — oh, how I wish! — I could respond.
Read...A couple years ago, I started down a path of living a more natural, eco-friendly lifestyle.
Read...Ever had an imagined conversation with optimism? Yeah, me too.
Read...When it comes to hiring people, be sure to steer clear of anyone who has a customer service background and glowing recommendations. The last thing you want is a perky, friendly face to greet your customers. So predictable!
Read..."These days, I don’t shop at the mall very often, but every once in a while when I find myself at a mall — any — I’m overcome by a wave of nostalgia for my salad days (although perhaps “Sbarro calzone days” would be a more fitting expression here). In many ways, I grew up in these chain stores and pretzel kiosks. And sometimes I feel compelled to write melodramatic poetry about it."
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