A creative publicist has come up with a new back-to-school angle for one of the products she’s promoting — but all I did was laugh when I read the press release.

Does she really think parents and college kids will bond over shopping for condoms at the neighborhood pharmacy?

Check out how the pitch begins:

“With back-to-school just around the corner, millions of college students are packing up their belongings and waving goodbye to mom and dad for another year of debauchery… er, learning. From first year students experiencing being away from home for the first time to those reuniting with friends after a summer away, the first few months of college are packed with social events, new faces and plenty of hook-ups.”

Okay…and…as a parent we are supposed to do what exactly? Follow up the safe-sex talk with a little show-and-tell field trip?

Believe me, I’ve had the requisite talk with both my older kids before they went to college. They each squirmed and looked out the window and actually left the room while I was still talking.

But honestly, I can’t imagine taking them to Bed, Bath & Beyond for college sheets and towels — and then choosing condoms together in the family-planning aisle at CVS.

Is this above and beyond or is it just me?

About 12 years ago my father wrote a book.

This was before self-publishing became so accessible to anyone with a computer. So he typed it and had it printed and tried to market it himself. He’s a longtime magazine editor and a wonderfully talented writer, but it’s near impossible to sell a book without some sort of promotion machine.

So, in recent weeks, we’ve all helped him reissue the book with a print-on-demand service called Lulu. And it’s been one of the most heartwarming projects I’ve ever worked on.

My father hasn’t been well.
If you read this blog, you already know I’ve spent much of the summer driving out to Long Island after work, sitting with him and talking to him and trying to spend as much time as I can with him.

I can’t tell you how much it means to see the excitement in his eyes when we look at the glossy new cover of the book, with his photo on the back, and fix all those annoying typos (he’s still got a sharp editor’s eye) and dream about all the people the book will help when it finally hits the market.

(It’s a self-help book about overcoming shyness, and I have to say it’s got some great tips that I should use myself!)

Anyway, in a kind of Tuesdays with Morrie way, working on this book with my father has been the most meaningful experience of my life. And every day, I am thankful to spend one more evening with the kindest, wisest, most caring person I’ve ever met. (Sorry, Mom…I’ll get to you next time.)

If you’ve got a parent who’s got similar dreams of seeing their words in print, check out Lulu.
And keep your eyes out for my father’s book. His name is Stan Gottlieb and I’m predicting big things for him.

Most women don’t like to talk about their age.

But I met someone a few weeks ago who’s more than forthcoming about her own midlife issues—and happy to reveal her exact date of birth.

Click here to read about More magazine editor in chief Lesley Jane Seymour, who appears in a story in today’s Journal News.

How do you feel about revealing your age?

Did you read the story in The New York Times about Sigrid Olsen’s forced retirement?

Click here to read it.

If you’re a fan of her clothing, you already know Olsen’s outfits were designed with comfort in mind — and were a bit hit among the “mature” shopper.

It seems that Olsen, 55, was stunned to learn that the Liz Claiborne congomerate was shutting down her line of clothing. And, as the story reports, so were many of her loyal fans.

Apparently, Ann Taylor and J.Jill are also shutting down many of their stores.

Do you think the 40-to-60 demographic is being ignored by the clothing industry?

What do you do if your parent keeps telling the same stories and you know most of them are untrue?

We’ve got a relative who’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. He’s managing all right, but when it comes to storytelling, his idea of the truth is far from reality.

At first, when it wasn’t clear he had Alzheimer’s, my husband would argue with him.
“You’ve never been to Australia,’’ he would say. “How can you say you have?”

I tried another approach: listening and simply nodding my head.
Of course I had less at stake: it wasn’t my father telling the tall tales.

Lately, though, his stories have gotten even more outlandish. We know that somehow his imagination has gotten entangled with his memory and everything is coming out jumbled.

Fought with General MacArthur? Of course you did. Went on the first lunar expedition? Cool!

I’m exaggerating, but you get the idea.

The thing is, how do you handle it? Is there any point in convincing the storyteller that his memory is completely faulty? Or do you just smile and listen?

Older son comes back from a semester in Europe. Older son brings French chocolate.

In a second, the chocolate is ripped open, a square drops on the kitchen floor and the dog swoops in and swallows the entire piece.

Panic. Hysteria. Google. Phone call.

And here, in a few seconds, is how the best-laid weekend plans are exploded into a million pieces.
I’d planned to visit my parents after the morning airport run. Now the extra “child” has to be taken care of. Immediately.

Google confirms that chocolate can be deadly for dogs. The vets’ office says to give her a teaspoon of hydrogen peroxide (yes, really), and that if she doesn’t vomit in 15 minutes, to give her another. And yes, they’re closing at 3 so the next step is the emergency vets’ office in Greenburgh.

Two teaspoons of peroxide later, doggie is sitting contentedly on the kitchen floor and I’m watching the clock knowing there’s a two-hour window before the chocolate hits her nervous system and …who knows?

Put dog into car and race to the emergency vet. Towels on the front seat. Radio playing to distract both of us. I talk to her like she understands. “Please throw up and save me a hundred dollars,’’ I say. She cocks her head to the side. I am an idiot. “Please,’’ I say. “I’m begging you.”

Of course no throw-up. Vets’ office does some special behind-the-scenes techniques and that’s it. All done. Write a huge awful check, put dog back in car and head home. No chatty conversation on the way back. We are both annoyed.

Hide chocolate in a plastic bag upstairs and drive out to Long Island.
Late, yes, but at least I’ve got a good story…

Did any of you catch the cover story in this week’s New York Magazine?
Click here to read it.

It’s all about how female celebrities are pursuing a new fountain of youth. Injectables (Botox and fillers like Restylane) are giving these women a “juicy,’’ baby-faced plumpness that makes guessing their ages a near-impossibility.

The beauty of the new procedures is in their subtlety. Think Christie Brinkley or Michelle Pfeiffer — how could they be so full-cheeked and smooth-faced without some sort of intervention? But don’t they look amazing?

When I was a teenager, I wished I could look like the girls in fashion magazines. I never even knew what airbrushing was — or that nobody is truly perfect in the flesh.

Today, when we admire celebrities who look incredibly fresh-faced, it’s hard not to be envious. How can we regular women compare our faces to those of Hollywood actresses of the same age — and not shudder at how much older we look?

But isn’t that so unfair?
Maybe it’s a stretch, but isn’t the athlete who takes steroids and becomes a superstar similar to the actress who injects herself with artificial youth?

Do you think one day humans will spend their entire lives looking like they’re 25?
How sad is that?

In today’s Journal News, I’ve got a story about a Tarrytown woman who’s helping older people prevent falls with exercises aimed at improving balance and agility.

Click here to read the story.

Grace on the Floor, a trademarked program developed by Catherine Kazienko, uses simple exercises like this one, which I think is really useful: Make believe you’ve got plates (yes, plates) wedged under your arms. Bend your arms at the elbows and press them against your ribs. Now try walking. Sure, you may look like a wooden robot, but I bet you don’t fall!

Kazienko says techniques like these are good for anybody with balance problems. I don’t exactly have a balance problem, but I do have some sort of clumsiness issue (I trip and fall once in a while, and it’s not always due to a slippery, half-eaten falafel ball on the floor, though that did happen once). I guess maybe I’m daydreaming and not looking where I’m walking. Whatever…

Anyway, if you concentrate on squeezing your elbows against your body, Kazienko swears you won’t fall. I’m going to try it tonight. Don’t want to look like a robot at work…

I was doing some channel surfing last night — lying in bed feeling sorry for myself and my sad little head cold — when I came upon an investigative piece on one of those news-entertainment shows.
And suddenly I forgot about my woes.
Reporters were trying to figure out if Madonna, photographed coming out of an exercise session with her daughter, had done something “surgical” to enhance her looks.

I’ve gotta admit she did look different. Her face looked super-sculpted and her eyes had a wide awake look. But couldn’t it have been all that power yoga? Or the Kaballah?

Meanwhile, what’s your opinion of her brother writing a tell-all book about his famous sister? How would you feel if you were on the brink of 50 and your sibling wrote about you?

I know that if it were me, I’d look shell-shocked too…

What if you’re homebound with an elderly parent or relative and wish you could take advantage of all the caregiving resources available in Westchester? You still can, without leaving the house.

Mary Edgar-Herrera, program adminstrator for the county’s Family Caregiver Support Program, told me that she and two other staffers actually make house calls, and will drive to any location within Westchester County. And their services are free!

Edgar-Herrera, who works in the Yorktown office of the county’s Department of Senior Programs and Services, said her staff also helps with caregiving issues that involve a parent who lives out of state!

So if you live here and you’re worried about a parent or relative who’s getting older and lives far away, stop worrying and make the call.

Edgar-Herrera is patient, friendly and extremely knowledgeable. Give her a call at 914-245-9167.

I also learned the county has numerous Caregiver Resource Service Centers, five of which are staffed by professionals eager to help. Those five centers are in Mount Vernon (914-813-6300), Yorktown Heights (914-245-9167), Yonkers (914-377-6822), White Plains (914-683-7530) and at the Alzheimers Association local offices, also in White Plains (914-428-1919).

Call any of the five to make an appointment.

Twelve local libraries also have caregiver resource centers. They’re at the libraries in Greenburgh, Katonah, New Rochelle, Ossining, Peekskill, Port Chester, Rye, Scarsdale, Shrub Oak, Somers, Tarrytown and White Plains.

One more thing I’ve learned: Worrying is useless. Arm yourself with information and you’ll start feeling better right away.