I'm currently in the "I'm going to kill my one year old Mac for not allowing me to highlight the whole sentence" phase of life! Lol.
We had some serious weather on Monday. I live in the north part of San Diego, California. We never get serious weather--not enough to comment about, anyway.
The weather reflected my mood: blustery, out of control, random, freaky, scary, but also very exciting! I have been a dancing queen (still am), a mom (still am), a sometimes wise woman, and not yet a crone.
Coronavirus and the lockdown has provided with far too much time for self-reflection and quiet. I'd love to get back to being loud and combine it with the quiet exploration in the forests of the East Coast.
And I knew my food preferences had turned to sh*t.
The time I gagged on an apple was probably when I was a little kid, right? Wrong! It was just last week.
Like many people during this never-ending pandemic, I’ve turned to food for comfort. And, I’ll be honest, I’ve also turned to drink. Nothing like a coupla glasses of wine to get you through the 280 lonely Netflix nights, amirite? I’ve gone so far as to buy the stemless wine glasses because they fit in the dishwasher better. That red flag (or does white work better?) …
And I’d make the same decision again.
In another lifetime, I moved from the suburbs of Philadelphia to the suburbs of San Diego. Complete and total culture shock aside, I thought when I stepped on the accelerator on the Pennsylvania Turnpike and left Philly with my best friend, I would never, ever return.
And for the better part of my life, I kept that promise and ghosted the city without a thought.
I didn’t realize I was asleep
About five years ago, I was invited to a former high school classmate’s surprise party that opened my adult eyes to Philadelphia. Little did the party organizer know that this one invitation would be life…
And still be respected in the morning.
For the most part, my parents seemed not to have fun while parenting my sister and me. I don’t remember a lot of laughter or smiles in our house unless alcohol was involved. And even then, there was no guarantee. The fun often turned ugly because my dad could be a very mean and violent drunk.
I remember playing alone but never with my parents. I’m sure it was a combination of them having to work too hard and for very long hours. After a long, blue collar day either in the Michigan heat/humidity or the bone chilling Michigan winters…
A Haiku written in a moment of exhaustion
Not every good deed needs to be recognized.
My daughter’s first choice college was in Brooklyn, New York. After attending the school for a full year, she decided it wasn’t quite for her, so in May I flew to JFK and helped her pack her stuff in order to move to a new school in August.
Since I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be back to New York for a very long time (if at all), the trip to pack up my daughter also became a whirlwind tour of the city. …
How an overheard conversation at a bookstore got me thinking.
Author’s Note: When I wrote this piece, I had no idea that COVID19 was just beginning to make its way through the US. Indeed, the first death was only 5 days after I clicked ‘publish.’ I thought about taking the post down, but decided against it. Maybe it will get people thinking about their lives and how they really want to be living them after having so much time to reflect (or at least in the states with the mandatory stay at home orders). Maybe COVID19 is the wake up call we needed after watching so many people suffer through…
A bucket was necessary but not for my tears.
I remember the day my husband walked out of our shared home of 20 years like it was yesterday even though nine months have since passed. The house was suddenly extraordinarily quiet, calm…peaceful even. My ears felt like they were full of cotton — the only sound getting through was the persistent pounding of my heart. A quick ear canal check proved I had not accidentally left earbuds in.
The pets looked up expectantly, waiting to see where I would go so they could follow and stay within feet of me…
The benefits of wearing a daily uniform.
I remember looking at pictures of Steve Jobs and wondering why he wore the same thing every day: a black mock turtleneck, jeans, and sneakers, when he had more money than God.
It seemed to me that anyone with that much money should have a different outfit for every single day of the week. Maybe throw in several daily clothing changes: one for yoga/meditation/breakfast, one for apres lunch (perhaps with a stretch band sewn in for the inevitable gas build-up), and one for evening plus something comfy/cozy for bedtime.
When the sun set, he could donate his used clothes. …
Discovering I can do anything in my pink rubber gloves.
You may have heard by now that my husband moved out of our house and marriage of 25 1/2 years a few months back.
If not, you can read about it here and here.
Before my husband moved on with his life, I requested he be kind enough to leave all three pets with me; he readily agreed — a little too quickly, if I’m remembering events accurately. …
