The trip was one-part anniversary present, one-part dream travel destination. Most of all, it was a long, longed-for spiritual re-connection with my father gone from my life for almost 40 years. The trip: to witness the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights. Read more
My dear Middle-age Muddlers,
Handsome Hubby and I are back from our 16 days in Vietnam and Cambodia. The laundry is whirling away in the washer and dryer. So, I thought I’d sit down and respond to the request from a number of readers asking for a recap of our travels. Read more
You’ve got to hand it to Handsome Hubby: He is a master at making a girl “an offer she cannot refuse.”
“Come with me to La Jolla for the weekend,” he said with that sweet, husky voice of his.
“Just for fun?” I asked suspiciously, knowingly.
“Well, sort of,” he said, starting the famous HH hem-and-haw dance. Read more
It’s summertime, and I’m exhausted. I cannot keep up the pace.
Summer used to be about relaxing and taking a break from usual routines.
Summer used to be about vacations and long, lazy days at the beach.
Summer used to be about suntans and sunburns. Over-chlorinated swimming pools and bring-tears-to your-eyes salty water ocean waves. About letting the mind wander and go free, watching the clouds and the waves.
The TV got a rest. There were too many reruns. Instead, there were summer book reads. Trashy novels for middle-aged moms (and dads). Required book lists for the kids.
But not this summer. Not for our family, and I bet, not for yours. Read more
Some people like the outdoors. Some people like roughing it. Some people I ain’t. If Mother Nature calls, I’m out.
Born in New York City, my idea of roughing it is taking the subway instead of a cab. Brought up in Las Vegas, my idea of the outdoors is the time it takes to move from the air-conditioned house to the air-conditioned car. Yes, as the joke goes, roughing it means staying at a Holiday Inn.
Now Handsome Hubby (HH), a rugged, outdoorsy type, accepts these facts (some might say limitations) about me. Early in our dating days, I had told him the harrowing tale of my one and only sojourn with Mom Nature. It was really more a word-to-the-wise there’s-a-moral-to this-tale than anything else.
Happily, HH was a good listener. He has never suggested we go camping in 30-plus years of marriage. Although when we married, he planned our honeymoon for Yosemite National Park.
“You’re taking our sister camping?” my brothers asked aghast. Read more