Dear Readers: I’m pleased and excited to announce the release on Tuesday, October 4th, of my third book of essays: Laughing My Way Through the Third Stage: Selected Essays that Skewer the Golden Years. Unlike my first two books, whose essays addressed the random irritants of everyday life, I have devoted this volume to all
Forgive me if I indulge in a bit of nostalgia, but for this essay it seems appropriate. I’m referring to an old radio program called “Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons.” If you admit your age is hovering somewhere near four score, perhaps you can remember listening to the broadcast with your parents as you
Labor Day weekend is upon us, and despite the fact that we were just experiencing a heat wave, come Monday, summer is unofficially at an end. In truth, summer is not really over until the calendar says it is, on or about September 21. But then, the calendar completely ignores the real indications of the
The inevitable has happened. The insidious process has reached its conclusion. The final step has been taken, and the journey is over. I can deny it no longer. I have become my mother! Despite our self-righteous cries as young girls that we will never be like her, one day we look in the mirror, and
Due to the overwhelming response to the prior essay, I felt strongly that a follow-up was in order. First, I’d like to thank all of you who came to my aid in my quest for The Perfect Dress. I had no idea that so many astute shoppers and fashion influencers of a certain age were
I have been on a quest for the perfect dress. Perfect for me, that is. And I do have some very specific requirements. Requirements that I probably didn’t have when I was 30 years younger. But you know how that is. If you don’t know, you might be too young to relate to this essay.
Anthropomorphism, that’s what. You may not know the word, but I’ll bet you a month’s worth of Starbuck’s Chocolate Cream Cold Brew that you know what it is. We all grew up with it. Kids still do. Mickey Mouse, Pluto, Bugs Bunny, Mr. Ed, talking teapots, minions, and the like. Anthropomorphism, a multi-syllabic word that’s
Let’s hit the ground running and create the right synergy, so we can go after low-hanging fruit. If you don’t have the bandwidth, phone me. Let’s touch base and think outside the box. I did not create the paragraph above. I stole it from the internet to illustrate that this is an essay about
My husband likes opera. Me? Not so much. If I had to rate my feelings regarding opera on a scale with “Hate” being 0, and “Love” being 10, I’d probably hover somewhere about a two-and-a-half. That is, if one of my more cultured friends happened to be looking over my shoulder as I filled out
It's May, the merry month of May, or so says one of the musical numbers from the show "Camelot." But for me, May is the time to release my hidden OCD as we prepare to move north. You'd think that after more than twenty years of this migratory pattern, I'd have the routine down
