Beauty can arise from tragedy

By Gary Wexler
Published on September 24, 2008

As the events unfolded, it was a story that could only be measured against the biblical account of Job. It was everyone's worst nightmare.

Hyler condition stabilizes

By Danielle Berrin
Published on August 19, 2008

Delilah drives me wild

By Caroline Cobrin
Published on October 11, 2007

Hello, my name is Caroline, and I am in love with my car ... there I've said it.

The Dealbreakers

By Carin Davis
Published on July 7, 2005

My blind date, Scott, likes college hoops, '80s TV and helping others. I like his cute tuchus. I'm thinkin' we'd make a fine pair of Jews. We stray from the first date playbook and follow a Santa Monica dinner with a Main Street stroll. As we walk past yet a third unique boutique on our way to get dessert (that we don't want) and more time together (which we do), Scott says those three little words that can rock a girl's world. "There's my car."

It's a PT Cruiser -- washed and waxed today, valid registration, parked less than 12 inches from the curb. No fuzzy dice, high school tassel or pine-scented Playmate air freshener. The car doesn't scream "show-off" or "shady," Speed Racer or gas guzzler. What it screams is middle-aged dad. More specifically -- my dad.

The Sham of It

By Wildman Weiner
Published on January 13, 2005

We've just paid $3,000 for a new mattress.
"It's not a mattress," the salesman sniffed. "It's a sleeping system." His accent