Good Morning…

How are you?

I am ok, relatively ok, sort of a fine ok. So so. But mostly I am neither ok nor so so. I am actually somewhat grey. Read more

Clam chowder did not set out to be a ritual.

But, somewhere along the retirement life, it settled into a comfortable, enjoyable Friday tête-à-tête for two mortals who after eight decades still vastly enjoyed each other’s company. Read more

It is hard to stomp out of the room in a full-blown snit when you are wearing sheepskin-lined bedroom slippers.

Methinks my stomping days are pretty much a done deal. Even Hugo, my trusty walker, has lost his will to stomp meaningfully. He rolls, he twirls, he affords me a seat on the way to the mailbox—but snits and stomps are truly not his forte. Not today. Probably never, truth be told.

Let me back up a bit to give you the proper perspective on this topic. Read more

Whining is so not an option.

But neither can I jump with joy nor do the happy dance.

Last year at this time my beloved husband’s death was too fresh, too raw a wound, to participate in long-held holiday traditions. No greeting cards or email exchanges, no candlelit services. Certainly no jolly family meals.

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When our bodies begin to betray us because of age or illness, life becomes difficult. Unbelief turns into dismay and incredible sadness.

Will the sun ever shine again? Will the birds recommence their song? Read more

When an event becomes a celebration be the first to plop the garish lampshade on your stately head as you exit the party.

Refuse fuss, object to hoopla, and cancel wing dings. Then gracefully recant when the opposition of progeny overwhelms your common sense.

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Illusions offer an interesting take on life.

Entertainers use them to project a mythical youth and semblance of glamour.

Magicians deceive and delight us with their trickery.

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