Everyone wants to say they hate lawyers, and yet I've never met a parent who didn't want their kid to be a lawyer.

I want to go to Australia and take the same goofy picture of me holding a koala that everyone else takes.

I'm sick of the foodies who need every morsel that goes into their mouth to be a Picasso painting, a Giacometti sculpture, a Proust novel, evoking the world with each crumb.

There's nothing wrong with crooks having lawyers. Everyone is entitled to a lawyer.

My 20s were all about feeling desperate. Desperate to find a new boyfriend. Desperate to get the perfect job. Desperate to get rid of this terrible relationship with this bad new boyfriend.

If I have one wish for my birthday, it is that 35 is the end of desperation and the beginning of acceptance. Part of that is believing that if I'm meant to give birth, I will.