People often say I don’t look my age. They mean it as a compliment, and I take it as such, but lately I’ve been wondering. Is it really a compliment, and why does hearing it make me so happy? Read more
It’s the start of Week Four after (double) foot surgery and while the pain is finally starting to subside, definitely don’t ask me. I won’t/can’t dance.
“Double foot surgery?” you query, wondering rightly whether I have a screw (or a shoelace) loose. Read more
I thought I was a super sipper when I switched from plastic to paper straws. Hooray for the environment. Hooray for me. But now, alas, there’s more bad news for sippers. Straws may cause wrinkles. Read more
When I was young, I sniffed and sneered at the idea of plastic surgery. Now that I’ve reached what is politely called “a certain age,” I’m not so sure. At 69, my jowls have headed south, and my neck waddle rivals a turkey. As a result, I’ve become plastic surgery curious. Very curious. Read more
Naked dressing. It seems to be a contradiction in terms. Yet, from the catwalks of Milan to the Oscars and the Met Gala, all the gorgeous gals are doing it and I say it’s high time we fleshy middle-aged muddlers jump on the fashion bandwagon and dare to go (nearly) bare! Read more
I’ve got a nasty case of the wintertime blues. It’s leaving me feeling old, fragile, and unfit. But I’m a fighter, a take-charge kind of woman. So, I’m not down for the count. Now, in my latest attempt to win the Battle of Old Age, I’m taking drastic new steps — more precisely new laps. Will I sink or swim? That is today’s question. Read more
It’s mid-October. Time for my seasonal house and office cleaning. That includes a long overdue review of my overflowing e-folder of pending story ideas. As usual, it’s chock full of juicy tidbits that didn’t quite make it to full-blown stories but are too “delicious” to discard without sharing. So, without further delay, here’s a sampling of odd odds and ends. Read more
You’re as old as you feel. Well, today I feel as old as Methuselah. And “for the record,” Methuselah was 969.
Now, I mention “old” man Methuselah not to kvetch about my aching back, bones, and feet but to make a point about aging, more specifically, definitions of age. How old is “old?” And when does middle-age end? Read more
It’s my 68th birthday. I’m not having a party, but I do have a few random thoughts on texting, cartoons, and not-so-complimentary compliments. Read more
Much like Scarlett O’Hara, I once took much pride in my tiny waist. But that was long ago. Now, more like Santa Claus, I have belly fat. But no belly laughs from me. More, oh, no, no than ho, ho, ho!
Yes, once, I was a lass with a classic hourglass figure, but time, Read more