I apologize for the fact that I’m late in delivering this new post. That is, if anyone even noticed that I’m a few days past my deadline. Five to be exact, if you happen to mark your calendar. Which I highly doubt. But that’s okay. I don’t mind my usual timeliness being taken for granted.
At first, I wasn’t sure why my mind wandered to this particular topic. It might have been the sense of torture brought on by endless exposure to political gurus. Or perhaps it was the stomach ache which followed an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The latter occurred as I was perusing the latest issue of The
No doubt my priorities are all screwed up. There’s so much going on in the world that cries out for serious attention and consideration, and here I sit, obsessing about Viagra commercials. Gun violence, Brexit, terrorist explosions, to say nothing of the upcoming political conventions during which two flawed candidates will be nominated to run
By any chance, do you to remember an old movie called The Enchanted Cottage starring Robert Young and Dorothy McGuire? It was released a long time ago, 1945 to be exact. If you don’t remember it, please don’t lie and tell me it’s because you weren’t born yet. I happen to know how old you
Has this ever happened to you? You’re in a restaurant. In your line of vision is another table with, let’s say, three couples. You unconsciously absorb the physical details of the six well-dressed people who are about to eat their appetizers. You notice the gray hair on the partially bald men, the obviously chemically-treated hair
Overheard at Saks: Shopper No. 1:“Ooh, that’s such an adorable dress.” Shopper No. 2: “So why don’t you try it on? Shopper No. 1: “Are you crazy? It’s sleeveless! As we approach the warmer weather, I am convinced that this scene will be replayed over and over again in boutiques and department stores across the
Honestly, did I really need another reminder that I was old? I thought I paid my dues this year with a few more wrinkles, deeper frown lines, a couple of extra sun spots, and a pair of eyeglasses that I was now required to use when driving. Oh, and the addition to my never-again list
I am about to brag. If you don’t want to listen to me bragging, you have my permission to stop reading right now. I generally hate it when people brag, so I wouldn’t blame you in the least. Bragging is obnoxious. If it isn’t one of the seven deadly sins, it should be. I much
I have mixed feelings about formal occasions. On one hand, it’s an opportunity to release my inner child and play dress-up. On the other hand, my outer “mature” adult cringes as it contemplates the possible necessity of Spanx or other constricting undergarments. Even the idea of panty hose makes me shudder. So when the invitation
The sun is shining. The air is comfortably dry, definitely a good hair day. A slight breeze is blowing. Even before I step outside I can see nature’s glory through the windows and I smile. Then I frown. I frown because I suddenly recall the promise I made to myself early this morning just before
