It’s no surprise that gender inequality continues in many workplaces across the country. However, the extent of the current disparity in America’s newsrooms threw me for a loop.

Sprouting gray hairs, resistance to change and becoming critical of younger generations are telltale signs of aging. But there are also subtle clues that indicate you may not be quite as hip with the times as you think you are.

A few months back when we upgraded our cellphones, my husband and I took the plunge and got our two youngest their first phones. They were on the cusp of turning 16 and 13 and we figured we had held off for as long as we could.

Kids ask a lot of questions.

Without fail I am always delighted to see the welcome to Kentucky sign, especially when we are driving home from visiting family in Maryland, because it means we are back in a place where we treat others with kindness.

From my days of heaving the morning edition onto my neighbors’ porches to the position I hold now, one of the few ideals that has stood the test of time is that newspapers — unlike any other form of media — have a magical power to connect people.

There are a few reasons why my parents’ home has been dubbed “the pioneer house” by our tech-savvy kids.

By the end of this month our family of five will officially include a trio of teenagers. That hasn’t quite sunk in yet.

One minute you are talking to someone and then bam out of the blue you can’t remember the next simple word or phrase, even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, and desperately scramble to convey what you mean. Those dumbfounded moments are called brain farts.

Growing up our family frequented the same local restaurant nearly every Friday night during the colder months. While my parents were distracted playing Keno and my brother obsessively plunked quarters into the Ms. Pac-Man machine, I, a self-professed word nerd, was captivated by the games on…

Being the middle child has its benefits and drawbacks.

It’s probably a good thing that parents conveniently forget that the chubby, pinchable-cheeked toddlers who say the darnedest things will eventually become moody teenagers who despite owning an extensive vocabulary choose to speak in grunts and mumbles.

You might think I’m crazy, but it happened when The Cars’ 1984 hit came on the car radio while I was driving with our daughter. After trying to describe the music video of “You Might Think,” I came to the realization that my 80s and 90s music is what my parents' 50s and 60s music was to me.

It dawned on me Monday after glimpsing a school bus driving down Versailles Road that, thanks to COVID-19, it’s been a while since I have noticed public school transportation in motion. Seeing that bus flashed me back 10 years ago to the day when our two elementary-age sons took their shorte…

We all have those mindblowing moments when we learn or notice something for the first time that render us unable to ever unsee it again.

Christmastime has that magical quality that makes us wax nostalgic for holidays past. From the first snow of the season to decorating the tree and constructing gingerbread houses, there is no doubt that this time of year is special.

Over the past few months we have all gotten used to the new normal. For our family, that means supporting local restaurants by ordering takeout (hence the extra pounds we are all carrying into the joyous holiday season) and limiting our contacts at the grocery store by using Kroger ClickList.

Regardless of whether there is a holiday or special occasion, consuming alcohol is just something my family does together. Adults drinking beer like it’s water was never something I questioned as a kid.

In order to avoid what can quickly escalate into charged political debates, we favor disputing less pressing matters in our household — such as whether the toilet paper should go over or under in the holder.

We opted for a staycation (stay+vacation) during Franklin County Schools’ fall break earlier this month because we couldn’t afford to go glamping (glamorous+camping). It was over the course of the week when I began to notice how often we use portmanteaus in our everyday slanguage (slang+language).

You can learn a lot about a person from simply sitting behind them in traffic. From Bible verses to political pitches and favorite sports teams, a lot of folks make their opinions known through the stickers plastered to their vehicles.

Kudos to folks like my mom whose kitchens are organized with a place for everything and everything in its place. My family does not fall into this camp.

Though hard to believe, September is here and pretty soon we’ll be trading our flip-flops for boots, shorts for jeans and tank tops for flannels. It’s also time for the store shelves to become en-“gourd”-ged with pumpkin spice products.

Drivers can easily be divided into two groups — those who require complete silence to operate a vehicle and those who need musical accompaniment.

As parents, the last month has brought stressful decisions regarding our children’s education. Choosing whether to start the school year with in-person or distance learning felt like picking the worst “Would You Rather” question in the deck.

Note to self: Never schedule the kids for a doctor’s checkup at the same appointment. It’s not a good idea to be outnumbered. — Sept. 9, 2005

A few weeks ago we asked readers on social media where the worst stoplight in town is located and judging from the more than 150 responses we received it’s safe to say we have quite a few closet road ragers around here.

Like just about everything else this year, July Fourth in Frankfort is going to be a lot different compliments of the coronavirus pandemic. The patriotic day usually dawns with the Great Buffalo Chase 5K at Buffalo Trace Distillery and sets with a fireworks show at Capitol View Park with cop…

In the age of COVID-19 one thing has become abundantly apparent: You can tell a lot about a person by the covering or lack thereof on their face.

It’s hard to grasp that 2020 isn’t even half over. It seems as though this year has been stuck in slow motion forever.

Returning to the office this week was like stepping into a time capsule.

From the moment local and state health officials recommended wearing a face mask in public to help contain the spread of COVID-19, Kentuckians have been bickering back and forth about whether they will comply. (Just do it, people. Until a vaccine or better treatment is available, be consider…

To be frank, the term “essential worker” sounded a lot better a month ago before I also gained the responsibility of being the sole family representative chosen to leave our lair for food, work, food, groceries, food, necessities and food.

Back in the pre-internet era when I was a wide-eyed sophomore in high school, our world history teacher gave the greatest final exam of all time. Our two-hour timed challenge was to describe the significance of each historical event in the lyrics of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Even with 13 years of stay-at-home mom experience under my belt, nothing could prepare me for working remotely with three kids and my husband at home. Let’s just say I have learned a lot about teenagers in the past few days. What I have found is that they are nothing like their toddler count…

It’s difficult to grasp how much the world we knew has changed in just a handful of days due to the coronavirus.

In case you missed it, a letter to the editor published earlier this week (“Letter: 'Skinny jeans,' pajama pants display a cheap message,” Feb. 25) has gotten a lot of attention online — not for its compelling insight or convincing prose but for its cheap shot at women, in particular our attire.

Most stores go above and beyond to roll out the red carpet for their customers. Apparently that isn’t so at Walmart — which is guarded as if Fort Knox gold is inside, not rollback prices on supersized Arm & Hammer OxiClean fresh scent liquid laundry detergent and 48-count packages of Ene…

Hoping to score an interview with a city bus driver for a story I was working on, I forfeited the warmth, privacy and comfort of my vehicle to wait in a Frankfort Transit shelter outside Chick-Fil-A on Thursday afternoon. But it wasn’t until two or three stops into the ride that I realized h…

A few months back loyal State Journal reader Bob Gullette, a man about town if ever there was one, dropped me an email suggesting that I pen a column on my “new life as an editor as opposed to a reporter.” My response was that it would bore readers to death but he insisted so I figured I’d g…

As an avid college football fan my excitement over watching some bowl games during a few days off between the holidays quickly fizzled when I checked out the lineup. Apparently, I would only be able to catch a handful of the ridiculously large number of games because of the way they are spaced out.

With three loud, rambunctious kids all born within five years of each other, the holidays in our house have always tended to be more “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” than “Miracle on 34th Street.”

After three days of having two teenage boys and a tween girl at home over Thanksgiving break combined with the fact that we are only half decorated for Christmas, our house looks like a cross between a winter wonderland and a frat house afterparty (minus the beer cans).