Cindy Pierce 
Inspiring clothing items have the potential to ignite my day. My running sneakers, certain socks and even some of my underwear have so much pop of color that they help me dive into my days with extraordinary gusto. » Read more
Bruce and I carefully considered all the warnings before we took over Pierce’s Inn. Having witnessed a number of divorces in our own families, it was clear that marriage takes work without owning an Inn. » Read more
Borderline fiascos seem to be a consistent theme for hosts of weddings. My parents hosted a lot of weddings at Pierce’s Inn in the Seventies and Eighties. Cooking and serving a meals for eighty people is a recipe for disaster in itself. » Read more
Getting feedback on my outfits from my kids never goes that well, but I can’t seem to help myself. Luckily I have a strong ego, because any time I stretch a little outside my fashion range, they don’t hold back.
While my dress up bar is low, occasionally I bust out with a little razzle-dazzle. » Read more
Teaching my kids to drive sets fire to just about every one of my worst traits. I am really not cut out for the job. If it weren’t for Mike Birbiglia’s comedy CDs, my kids would never acquire the driving hours needed to get a driver’s license. » Read more
Optimists make chicken salad out of chicken shit. Boston Sports Media seemed so desperate for news and viewers this week that they were making chicken shit out of chicken salad. Yes, Tom Brady is aging but is still one of the top quarterbacks in the NFL. » Read more
Being a parent of ski racers could blow your mind if you let it. When our kids were too young to know any better, I was actively steering them away from ski racing, even though my husband and I were both ski racers. » Read more
One spring morning in 2005, I was out enjoying the post-winter warmth on a run. I was feeling terrific. My friend, with her five-year-old in the back seat, stopped her car to chat. She mentioned how she had read an article in the paper about an upcoming show I was performing locally. » Read more
Finishing the NY Marathon with my body and sanity intact was a lifetime achievement. I felt joy for the first 15 miles, moderately strong for another 9 miles and quite uncomfortable for the last 2.2. The cocktail of Gatorade and shot blocks with a cliff bar at mile 19 may have contributed to the less than excellent feelings in the birth canal of that run, but it was worth it. » Read more
A couple of months ago, I was out for a run and came upon a single, red bra cup on the side of the road near an old farm. It was just one sheeny B-cup fading in the sun on the side of my road. » Read more