Carine Fabius

The Sweet Africa Line

As we were headed back home from our first trip to Africa on January 12th, my native Haiti was suffering a devastating earthquake. What followed was a couple of months of sheer depression. In fact, I think most Haitians were clinically depressed for a time, while many still have a hard time dealing with the dire reports coming out of Haiti every day. I’m planning a trip there this summer so have not seen firsthand what is surely a cause Read More…

Healthcare and Religion

In today’s Huffington Post, CNN commentator and democrat Paul Begala wrote: “When David Obey swung that gavel — the same gavel used to hammer home Medicare — and struck it on that historic rostrum, it made a joyful noise unto the Lord. And I for one said Hallelujah.” Paul Begala can often be quite funny and witty, but even though that line made me giggle, he wasn’t being funny. Passage of the long-awaited healthcare reform bill made the man find Read More…

Hi, I Actually Write a Blog Now and Then!

Maybe I think I’m Superwoman or something, thinking I can run two businesses (art gallery and temporary tattoo business), make jewelry, write books and write blogs for Huffington Post, Fifty is the New, AND my own personal blog. Let me tell you that my own personal blog has suffered mightily, as you can probably tell since you’ve been probably sitting up nights, waiting breathlessly for my next post. So, just to catch you up on my activities, in the last Read More…

Healthcare: A Privilege or a Right?

I went to a healthcare rally this morning. I wondered if the “just say no” crazies were going to be there but thankfully, only two or three showed up with signs bearing pictures of Obama with a Hitler mustache. I wondered if I should do the universal sign for crazy–you know, point your index finger at your ear and twirl. Then I thought I should just look at them and laugh. And then I felt like crying. Because it’s so Read More…

Michael Jackson, Thank You

I know I’m supposed to post the continuing exploits of Pierre Bonsoirno and his jungle adventures (Pierre Bonsoirno is what I call my husband when he’s being unbearably French—guess you just have to read my book Sex, Cheese & French Fries for more details), but I can’t stop thinking about Michael Jackson.