Gotta Read

I admit it’s a life long obsession.  I might have written a gazilion books if I didn’t love to read so much.  If I’m in a good book, I’m reading until 3 in the morning….forget about eating!  Hey! Maybe, that could be a new diet craze!

When I was a kid, I’d read long after lights out under the covers with a flashlight.  As an adult, time was limited raising kids and teaching full-time.  But, then there was summer.  Is there anything better than lounging at the beach under the umbrella reading for hours on end?

After the last day of school, I’d treat my little ones to a trip to the local book warehouse, telling them to load up on paperbacks or workbooks or whatever they wanted.  They grew into bibliophiles, too.  No surprise there!

Now, reading is electronic.  I swore I’d never get a Kindle but the best retirement gift I got was a Kindle and I’m addicted.  Got the app on my phone and laptop.  I read an actual book, occasionally, but I’m not one of those “gotta hold it in my hands” type readers.  I like that 700 pages weighs the same as 100.  Not easy taking those tomes on planes!

I have absolutely no idea how many books I’ve read in the past five years.  I probably couldn’t even name most of them.  Nor could I tell you what they were about.  I have friends who keep a journal with the titles and a one line summary to conjure up that particular read.  I even went so far as to buy a reading journal so I could keep track.  I wrote exactly one summary.  Way too much trouble…I was already in the next book and didn’t want to stop.  Of course, the down side to that is reading the same book and thinking about 20 pages into it….hmmm, this is so familiar.

Hence the KIndle.  So, what are you reading this summer?  Here are some of my absolute favorites …. you know they have to good if I remember them…lol!

MYSTERY GENRE

I have three go-to writers:  Kathryn Wall, Randy Wayne, White and Robert Parker.

* Kathryn Wall moved to Hilton Head Island, South Carolina after she retired after 25 years as an accountant. In 2002, she wrote her first book in a series about Bay Tanner, woman detective with man troubles, an unresolved relationship with her late mother, a lingering love for a cigarette every now and then.  She’s a tough nut with squishy insides.  Just about perfect in every way!

     After Kathryn Wall’s husband passed in 2011, she couldn’t write.  Our worst fears were upended when she published the next book in the series, St. John’s Folly, last year.  Welcome back, Kathryn!!!

* Randy Wayne White graduated from high school in 1968 and “traveled” aka “bummed around” for five years, ending up on the southwest coast of Florida.  He worked for a Ft. Myers newspaper for four years and got a captain’s license.  After buying a used charter boat, he worked as a fishing guide for 14 years and started writing.

     Well, someone had to take over John D. MacDonald’s territory and Randy Wayne has done it in spades.  His Doc Ford series (21 books and counting!) is my favorite.  Doc is an ex-CIA agent marine biologist who finds all kinds of trouble in and around Sanibel Island.  He’s also written 20 other crime fiction books and seven non-fiction books, including two cookbooks!  The guy is nothing if not prolific!!!

* Robert Parker.  What can I say about Robert Parker, the dean of crime fiction?  When he died suddenly of a heart attach at the age of 77 in his Cambridge, Massachusetts, townhouse, I was crestfallen.  What a life, what a man, what a legacy.  After graduating from Colby College and getting his master’s at Boston University, he became a professor at Northeastern University and started writing the Spenser series.  A decade later, we were watching Spenser on ABC.

     I’ve probably read 20 Spenser books and haven’t made a dent.  There’s also the Jesse Stone and Sunny Randall series but, in my opinion, Spenser is far superior.  Parker was among the first writers to fully embrace inclusion.  In the early 70s, Spenser’s best buds, Hawk and Chollo were African American and Mexican American, respectively.  Then, there was his Jewish girlfriend, Susan, who didn’t believe in living together or apparently marriage, so they kept separate residences, although they were totally committed to each other.

     At the age of 24, he married his wife, Joan.  They were raised in the same neighborhood in Springfield, Massachusetts and supposedly met as toddlers at a birthday party.  Their living arrangement might strike some as unusual.  In their townhouse, she lived on one floor, he on another and they shared the common areas.  “I want to make love to my wife for the rest of my life, but I never want to sleep with her again.”

I get such a kick out of that quote.  Young people probably think it’s unthinkable, but I have a whole lot of friends that would LOVE that arrangement!!!

Okay, here’s some abbreviated recommendations.

MEMOIR/BIOGRAPHY

My Cross to Bear, Gregg Allman’s autobiography.  Yes, I’m a huge fan but he is nothing if not honest.  A fascinating read about a tragic yet exhilarating ride.  Also enjoyed Skydog by Randy Poe, the story of Duane Allman, one of the world’s greatest guitar players, who lost his life in a motorcycle crash at the age of 25.  You just want to want to shake him, “What were you thinking, man?”  But, then, I was doing the same stupid things back then, too.  I was the lucky survivor.

Back to the Garden by Pete Fornatale.  A backstage look at Woodstock takes you through each day and every artist.  If you ever wanted to go or did go, this is your book!

Breaking Night:  A Memoir of Forgiveness, Survival and My Journey from Homeless to Harvard by Liz Murray.  If you ever thought you had a tough childhood, you’ll do a 180 after reading this.
This memoir makes Jeannette Walls’ parents in The Glass Castle look like the Cleavers on ‘Leave It to Beaver.’  What a triumph of spirit!

Nora Ephron.  Every aging woman’s heroine.  When she died in 2012 shortly after her 71st birthday, I burst into tears.  There is no one like her.  Yes, she penned some huge hits like ‘When Harry Met Sally,’ ‘You’ve Got Mail,’ Sleepless in Seattle’ and ‘Heartburn.’  (I bet Carl Bernstein’s still rueing that affair with Margaret Jay, the daughter of the British prime minister.)
But, what I loved were I Remember Nothing and I Feel Bad About My Neck.  Yes, we’re aging; yes, we’re falling apart, but you might as well find some humor along the way.  No writer could make me laugh out loud like she did.


OMG!  I have so much more but I’ll save it for another day.  In the meantime, get out that sangria, hit the beach and relax with a good read!

Brief Briefs

Shame on you if you’re thinking of men’s underwear!  Heck, no!  Actually, I’m more a boxers girl myself.  But, I’m not going there.  Today, I’m doing briefs on the current spate of movies out there.

I’m a movie buff.  Truth is, BH is a movie buff.  I’m more a movie snob.  At least, I like to think so, but when you’re living with a buff, snobbery mode diminishes.  A whole new world opens, although I absolutely refuse to promote violence and horror in any way.  Just watch the local and national news to get your fill of that.

GODZILLA
Fandango Critics Average:  62
Audience:  4 Stars out of 5
Another re-make of the sci-fi monster film.  This time in 3D with over the top effects.  Whoopee.  I am done with 3D.  I tried to remain open about it for so long.  But, really….paying $15 for 3D with the very ugly glasses you can’t even keep??!!  That’s the senior matinee price!  No, a thousand times NOOOOOO!  This movie is about as dumb as King Kong, but at least, in 1933, there was that darling damsel in distress, Fay Wray.  Yes, I’m old.

MALEFICENT
Fandango Critics Average:  56
Audience:  4 Stars out of 5
Off the charts blockbuster opening last weekend.  $70,000,000.  Her biggest opening ever. Maleficient….as in evil or malicious.  This is a Disney film???  Perfect for little girls??  Really?  I just don’t get it.  My understanding of the critics’ take on it that even she can’t save the movie.  Duh….Jolie being an A-list actress with an awful lot of B-list roles.  Her only great role, in my opinion, is when she played Mariane Pearl in A Mighty Heart, the film that chronicled the kidnapping and murder of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter.  For all her philanthropy and altruistic causes, I would hope she’d choose roles that could make a difference….other than enhancing her already huge bank account.

MILLION DOLLAR ARM
Fandango Critics Average:  56
Audience:  4 Stars out of 5
Same rating as Maleficent?  Not in my ‘Brief Briefs.’  Way better.  Jon Hamm.  Mad Men.  Very easy on the eyes.  Playing opposite a sassy, independent Lake Bell.  Never heard of her, but were her parents hippies?  Thinking…River, Apple, Summer, Rain.  Predictable?  Yes.  It’s based on the true life story of Rinku Singh and Dinesh Patel, who were the first players from India to sign with a major baseball team, the Pittsburgh Pirates.  Total Feel Good.  Totally worth two hours of popcorn.

NEIGHBORS
Fandango Critics Average:  68
Audience:  4 Stars out of 5
I cannot claim to be a movie snob and absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this movie.  Yes, I know it’s raunchy.  Yes, I know I’m not supposed to love raunchy.  I can’t help it.  It was nothing less than hilarious from beginning to end.  My jaw ached the next day from laughing so much.  Can that be wrong?  Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne were perfect, Zac Efron played a complete idiot, but Dave Franco stole the movie for me.  He is the cutest thing ever….except for his brother, James.  It reminded of how much I loved last year’s, We’re the Millers, with Jason Sudeikis and Jennifer Aniston.  Panned by the critics with a 44 ratings, the audience gave is 5 full stars.  I could see it again and again.

IDA
Fandango Critics Average:  89
Audience:  3 1/2 Stars out of 5
I actually considered seeing this until I read this review by Enkidoo online:
     “As is typical of European movies, Ida is an exercise in despair.  People in misery, incapable of change confront their family history and choose to obliterate themselves.
     “A great movie to slit your wrists to.  The critics probably loved it.”

CHEF
Fandango Critics Average:  68
Audience:  4 Stars out of 5
Jon Favreau delivers this deliciously witty movie.  It’s all about creative integrity, which is exactly what he gives us on the screen.  It’s beautifully written and acted with humor and passion.  Sofia Vergara was nothing less than gorgeous and I flat out fell in love with John Leguizamo.  Some big names here…Dustin Hoffman, Oliver Platt, Robert Downey, Jr.  No one disappoints least of all Emjay Anthony, the 11 year old who plays Jon Favreau’s son.  Predictable?  Yes.  So, what?!!  It’s a Must See…the best movie I’ve seen this year, not to mention the most amazing soundtrack!

Well, here it is.  The first edition of Brief Briefs.  Aren’t audiences flat out boring?  Every one gives each movie a 4 Star review, with the exception of last year’s We’re the Millers, that rated a 5 Star, which the critics gave the lowest of the low rating.  Mmmmm….

Dump Home Depot

Need a makeover?  Well, yeah….at 66, who doesn’t?  Delete the crow’s feet, slice off the wattle, stretch the crepe-y skin, get that tummy tuck that’s every celebrity’s must-have post pregnancy op and voila! you’re 30 again!  At 30, I was a single mom, working and going to college full-time, self-medicating in a wholly unhealthy way.  I’m not interested in being 30…66 is just fine with me.

But, the makeover is not about me, it’s all about the kitchen.  It seems so easy, right?  Just go on the Home Deport website, comparison shop for the appliances, pick the ones you want, and put it on the credit card.  Free installation, delivery and remove the old hogger.  Can it be any simpler???

First, the refrigerator comes.  “Lady, I can’t install it because the the water line for the ice maker isn’t right behind the refrigerator.”  BH points out that it’s in the cabinet under the sink and the line runs behind the refrigerator.  “Nope, can’t do it.”

This is when I know I have Irish blood.  I see this  beautiful new refrigerator and ugly, moldy old one and they’re telling me they can’t take the old one and install the new one??!!  I call his supervisor and she tells me I can install it myself…in a nice way.  Okay, fine.  They remove the old one, plug in the new one and we reconnect the water line.  It only leaks for two days.  Success.

Next, there’s the matter of the new gas stove.  Grant you, gas is a little more complicated than plugging into the wall.  The morning they come, I’m out of the house.  No worries, BH is there.  My last words, “Please make sure they take the old one.”  Three hours later, I walk in the house and the old one’s still there and the new one’s taken up residency in the dining room.  NOOOO!

BH tells me the installers are coming the next day and will take the old one.  He’s skeptical and I’m downright cynical.  I call again.  They reassure me the old one will be removed.

This time, BH is out and I’m home alone when they appear.  No warning call to say they’ll be there in 30 minutes, which allegedly is standard procedure.  But, I let them in anyway.  Is that smart?  Of course not, but I’m desperate for a new stove that is self-cleaning, since the old one is probably 40 years old and has never been cleaned!

“Lady, you have no shut off valve.”  Really?  Who knew?  “No problem, we’ll install one for another $75.”   Ka-ching.  Great. Mo money, mo money.  “Where’s the gas meter?”  Like I have any frigging idea!?  “No worries, we’ll find it.”  So, they look all over the basement and the outside of the house.  The dark side of me is thinking:  are they really looking for the meter or just casing the joint?  “We found it in the back of the house.”  Good.  Next?

“Do you have a carbon monoxide detector?”  Again, no clue.  “We can install the range but you’re going to be inspected by the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission so make sure you have one.”  Magic words:  “We can install the range.”  That’s all I need to hear.  I leap for joy as they haul away the old one!

I picked out ceramic tile flooring at HD and they measured last week.  I paid $35 for them to measure, which will be deducted from the final cost of installation.  When they call to give me the final estimate, it’s $600 more than the original one.  I tell them I’m going to shop around some more.  I’m out $35.  Rats!  BH tells me to try a local flooring store he used for carpets a few years ago.  I check them out.  Their estimate comes in $400 under HD’s.  Different flooring but I like it better.  They don’t charge for measuring.  “You got me at hello.”  I really like this guy.  He gives me a card for a guy who just installed his new kitchen countertops.  “He may not be the most organized, but you’ll save at least 50%.”  Now, I’m in love.

I’m at the library writing this, while BH waits for the new over the range microwave to be delivered.  Someone should call shortly for an installation time frame.  They’re supposed to take the old one….I think.  There’s always a little surprise in the small print.

I think I’m done with Home Depot.  From now on, my money’s on the little guys!

Post Plateau

It’s almost the Half Year mark since I wrote my New Year’s resolutions for 2014.  There’s nothing unique about them….most have to do with fitness and diet.  Duh….what’s new?  So mundane, the sameness from year to year is nothing short of embarrassing.

Obviously, I haven’t made great progress if I’m still trying to lose the weight from my last pregnancy almost 30 years ago.  Unfortunately, I haven’t given up red meat, French fries, wine and chocolate.  Every year, I rededicate myself to staying on track.  Every year, I swear I’m going to stop eating hot dogs at the Orioles games or confine myself to water at the movies.  But, I cannot remember one time I’ve watched a movie without buttered popcorn!  At least, I gave up cokes.  Of course, what I should give up is wine!

Every now and then, I take a tape measure to check out my waistline and hips.  Before Kids, I was a svelte 33-23-33.  Ten inches between the waist and the hips!  Geez, I salivate thinking about that.  I live in fear of developing an apple-shaped body. Bigger waistline than hips.   All the doctors caution against it.  Not good for the heart.  I took out the tape last week….I’ve added inches everywhere but there’s still five inches between the waist and the hips.

This year, I swore I would not give up.  I got the digital scales, record every morsel of food and drink, every unit of exercise.  LoseIt wants me on 985 calories a day.  Really?  Can anyone live on that?

The one thing I am good at is exercising daily…30, 40, 50, 60 minutes with strength training and core work.  Every morning, I eat the same late morning breakfast:  Plain fat-free yogurt, Kashi Go Lean Crunch, strawberries and blueberries.  I drink a ton of water throughout the day into the night.

The problem is that by 5 in the afternoon, I’m famished!  I’m reaching for the whole grain tortilla chips, the mixed nuts….trying to stay away from BH’s cache of ice cream bars and Cheetos.  This is not easy for a girl who could live on junk food!

But, I am determined!  I’ve working more fish into my diet.  I love fried shrimp but I’m opting for grilled now.  I love baked salmon and grilled swordfish!  But, who can turn down a Costco steak cooked by BH?  Amazing.

I weigh myself daily….first thing when I get up.  It’s so discouraging sometimes.  I feel like I’m not making any progress at all.  Okay, baby steps.  After five months in Florida, I had lost a grand total of 3 pounds.  Three lousy pounds in five months??!!

And, then we arrived in Maryland.  OMG!!  I’ve lost three pounds in two weeks!  Whoa….I’m hoping it’s not due to a life threatening disease.

I’m sure I know exactly what it is….no more daily 2 For 1 Happy Hours and sausage and chess flatbread apps.

I’m down to one glass of wine a week and quinoa and black bean salad pretty much daily.  Eating out is hazardous for my waistline.

I struggled and struggled to get past this plateau….I’m loving getting up at 7:30 a.m and jumping on that scale!  Ten more pounds to go!!!

Principles Schminciples

So, here we are back in Maryland.  Olney, to be exact.  A small suburb of Washington, D.C.  Small meaning no Target, Walmart, Costco, Home Depot.  Not without shopping centers, just no big box stores.  You’re probably thinking how quaint that would be in a monster metropolitan area.

Yeah, quaint, until I have to go to one of those places then I’m stuck in traffic jams that make me want to hop on the next plane back to Florida.  Sure, I complain about the snow bird traffic….like I’m not one of them…lol.  Or, the more senior than me drivers that require more patience than being a middle school teacher.  But, all in all, I’ll take that over this!

And, then, there’s the Olney house vs. the Florida house.  I know it’s just not fair to compare new construction to a 50 year old brick rancher.  An open floor plan to the old chopped up into little rooms plan.  All new furnishings albeit primarily from my go to Costco to a Lazy Boy man cave.

The original plan was for me to sell my house and, eventually, we would sell his house and move into Baltimore.  Almost three years into it, I’m realizing that is not going to happen any time soon.  The truth of the matter is the Olney house is cost efficient….something that is not wasted on me after almost having to declare bankruptcy if my house didn’t sell.  Okay, that is such an exaggeration but who wants to throw away money on an empty house??

Last year, after we got back from Florida, BH threw open the door to the Olney house and almost called Goodwill to take everything away.  Why didn’t I jump on that??!!  Because he can’t.  He’s a sentimental soul and loves his stuff.  Instead, the cleaning out of closets and the garage shelves commenced.  Because where the hell was I going to put my eight boxes, recliner and bookshelves left over from my former life?

He has principles.  Does he ever!  The kitchen appliances are left over almond from the 70s.  Okay, he did replace the dishwasher a few years ago, I give him that.  The gas oven takes 30 minutes to heat up; the refrigerator exterior is covered with rust and the freezer would be a field day for mold removers.  But, here’s his point.  They still work.  Why replace something if it’s still working!?  However, he did agree that the kitchen floor needed to be replaced.

I have principles.  Why spend money on a house I’m not invested in?  I had decided that when we came back I would just suck it up.  He loves this place, so just let him enjoy it.

That worked for about a week….until I went online to Home Depot and started researching refrigerators, stoves, microwaves and tile flooring.  On Tuesday, we hit the HD gardening center, loading up on annuals for the deck and the yard and, then, I showed him the refrigerator and stove I thought might work for us.  Then, we agreed on the ceramic tile flooring.

He insisted on white appliances…not stainless steel that is the current rage.  The ‘new’ dishwasher is white.  Plus, the kitchen is dark and we need to lighten it up.  The added bonus is that white appliances are at least $50 cheaper than the stainless steel models.  And, do I really care if it’s stainless steel or white??  Good God, NO!!!

He reminded me on the way home, that this is against his principles.  I told him I appreciated his flexibility.  Of course, I’ve compromised my principles, too.

Principles, Schminciples!  We’re getting a new kitchen!  Woohoo!!!

It's a Changing Day

Every morning, I watch the Dr. Phil Show, not because I particularly love Dr. Phil, although I do agree with him about 99% of the time.  Mainly, I watch it because it keeps me occupied while I’m doing my walking and exercise videos.  To me, exercise is BORING!  Not for my Buff Honey.  He loves it.  Not only does he do his morning calisthenics and his 40 minute run, but he routinely walks at night.  Why?  Because he loves walking.  I’m not kidding.  Loves, loves, loves it!

What amazes me about Dr. Phil are the people who are willing to go on TV and share their craziness with the world.  Whether it’s a controlling spouse, a butt-insky mother-in-law, or all about me diva, they are perfectly happy to share their bizarro world.  Of course, Dr. Phil’s guests are sane compared to Dr. Judy or Jerry Springer.

My favorite line from Dr. Phil is in the show’s introduction:  “This’ll be a changing day.”  I like to think I’m all about change.  I’ve always believed change is healthy….it keeps us on our toes, stretches us, thrusts us out of our comfort zones, makes life more challenging.  What is life without growth?

The truth about me is that often I dread change.  For years, my medium told me I was going to move.  NOOOOOO!  I don’t want to move.  I love my home.  I’ve lived in that community for over 25 years.  I raised my children there; my best career years were right there in Columbia, Maryland.  I couldn’t visualize not living there.

And, now, not only do I not live in Columbia, but I live a schizophrenic existence between Venice, Florida and Olney, Maryland.  I love my Florida home but dread being away from my children and grandchildren.  I’m not enamored of my Olney home but love sharing the lives of our families.  So, it’s a trade-off.  Okay, I can’t have it all.  That’s my reality.  And, yet, I’m deliriously happy both places.

This past winter in Maryland was like living in Buffalo, New York.  HORRIBLE!  Florida was my respite, yet I still had my Columbia house on the market and the winter was not kind to me.  It’s not easy to get your house shown when ice covers the walkway and plumbing issues take it off the market for weeks.  I found out the hard way how busy plumbers are during the worst of all winters!

The truth is I was so done with this house.  When my real estate agent’s number showed up on my phone, I wouldn’t even answer it.  I just let her leave her inevitable bad message and called back when I was in a better state of mind.

The third week in March, I finally got the message I had waited so long for.  “I have a contract on your house.”  YES!  At this point, I didn’t even care about the sales price as long as I didn’t have to bring money to the table.  Okay, that’s an exaggeration but I was definitely willing to settle for a fair deal, to get through the home inspection, to do whatever it took to get to the settlement table.

There were a couple of sleepless nights when I had to hire a structural engineer because the home inspector couldn’t certify that it was structurally sound.  That about put me on drugs.  But, it turned out to be the best $300 I ever spent.

We ended up going to settlement a week early.  Thanks to the tech age we live in, I didn’t have to show up…just fed-exec my signed documents and they wired the money to my bank account.

April 17th.  That’s the day the bleeding stopped.  I’ve paid off everybody I owe.  What a feeling of absolute freedom!

So, what am I doing to celebrate?!  Well, I’m not going to Disney World.  I’m going to Denmark.  Yep, Denmark.  I have never been to Europe.  I’ve never traveled anywhere except Canada and the Caribbean.  Seven of my Danish cousins and I are going to Copenhagen to walk where our grandfather walked.

Of course, I dread the flight and I’m worried about all the unknowns, but I know I’ll be fine once I get there.  It’s a ‘changing day!’

From The Warfront

From the time I was three years old, my family thought I was gonna be a giant.  Every time I had my annual checkup, the doctor declared I was bound to be off the charts tall.  Throughout my elementary school years, I was the tallest girl in my class, except for Veenie Mae Johns who was nearly the height of the teacher when she was only 8.

I was barreling into adulthood, getting my first period in the cafeteria when I was in sixth grade.  Mortifying!  Obviously, one of the first.  Now, I’m a woman at 11 years old.  And, I had reached my full height.  All of 5 feet 1 inch.  Over the next three years, i went from being nearly the tallest to the absolute shortest.  Everyone in my family turned out to have height but me.

I was scrawny, never approaching 100 pounds until I was in my early 30s.  Everyone, including doctors, tried to fatten me up with nightly milkshakes.  My diet from those years makes me shudder….bags of chips, cookies, hot dogs, hamburgers.  Basically, I was a meat and potatoes kind of eater.  Still didn’t put on weight.

But, it definitely caught up with me.  I inherited my height and boyish body from both of my grandmothers.  My paternal grandmother had five children; my maternal had four.  I’ve seen pictures of them when they were very young and very slim.  But, I never knew them like that.  They were overweight….not grossly.  Just your normal thick waists that all too often accompany aging.

Last summer when I went to see my doctor, he took one look at me and said I needed to lose 10 pounds.  “You’re only 5 feet tall.  Extra weight looks worse on short people.”  This coming from a man who’s only 5’4” tall.  Of course, he’s right and even though I know it’s true, I didn’t want to hear it from him.

But, as Dr. Phil says, the first step to resolving a problem is to admit it.  That’s fine with me so I’ve gone into battle.

Yes, I work out daily with cardio walking and strength building exercises.  I hate that I don’t have the muscle tone I had as a young girl.  I hated my skinny arms but they actually had definition!  Do you ever appreciate those things at the time??  I hate the flab now but I work on those triceps and still have hope that maybe at 70, I’ll have my definition back.  Even I’m laughing at that!

I purchased a Weight Watchers scale about two years ago.  It’s a smart scale that gives your body mass index as well as your weight to the tenth of a pound.  I liked the BMI number….well within the healthy range.  I used that scale daily, always hoping for change in the right direction.  My God, I was tracking every calorie and unit of exercise every day.  Well, it wasn’t cooperating and then, one day, it gave me the same weight every time I got on the scale.  Didn’t matter what I had on or what time of day.  It was exhausted.  So, I trashed it and got an Eat Smart scale with big numbers so I can read it without my glasses.  It’s moving in the right direction so I like this one better.

My vegetarian daughter encourages me to eat healthier.  I even got her favorite cookbook, Passionate Vegetarian by Crescent Dragonwagon.  With a name like that, you have to be more interesting than most….and she is.  I made the Beet and Orange Salad with Rainforest Vinaigrette.  I had never baked a real beet in my life, much less made a vinaigrette made with mango, bananas and fresh ginger.  It was amazing and even BH ate it and he is not a salad guy.  Next, I’m going to try a spinach salad with dried tomato vinaigrette.  Already, quinoa salad is my go to!  I’m trying here!

I have a favorite pair of jeans….JAG jeans.  I bought a black pair a year ago and I love the fit!  Of course, it has spandex….hence, the fit.  I’ve been looking for a blue pair on Amazon for some time, but the only pair they seemed to have within my price range was a pull on pair.  REALLY!  A pull on pant?!  It just evokes pull up diapers to me.  I started reading the reviews and most of them were raving about these things!  Finally, there was nothing else in my size or my budget, so I resorted to ordering them.  They came two days later and I haven’t stopped wearing them.  They are nothing if not comfortable and a perfect fit….for the waistless!

Every day, I go to battle.  I fight the cheetos, the potato chips, the fries, the chocolate cake, the Easter candy.  I cheer for the fruit smoothies, the whole grain tortilla chips, the fruit and veggies!

Am I winning the war?  Not yet….but I will not wave the white flag!

Keep It Simple

Who am I?  Ever asked yourself that?  I’ve been asking that question since the day I was conscious, I believe.  I think it’s probably the most difficult question to answer.  Yes, I could answer, “I’m a mom” or “I’m an educator” or “I’m a bridge player.”  But, these are artificial responses.  Who am I really?  Who is my True Self?

I think the answer lies in the question, Why are we here?  What is our calling?  Our mission?  I always thought my adulthood was all about overcoming my childhood.  But, now I’m not sure.  I think we’re here to return to what we were before we came back here.  I think it’s related to being our God-ly selves….who we are when we are most whole.

I believe we are each a piece of God.  We are part of God and God is part of us.  Maybe God is not the right word.  Maybe, it’s the Source of All Things.  Maybe, it’s Love.  Maybe, it’s a term that is so much vaster than we can imagine, we have no way of explaining it in its fullest sense.

What is prayer?  Is it getting on our knees before going to bed and asking for what we want or asking for forgiveness?  It can be.  But, I think it’s more.  I think it’s our heart’s intention.  I think it’s a silent meditation anywhere or at anytime.  I think it’s waking up grateful for another day.  For me, just walking on the beach is a form of prayer.

Wouldn’t life be grand if we could live in our truest spiritual selves?  That was certainly on my bucket list when I retired….work out daily, write honestly, read anything I wanted to and reflect and find my spiritual self.  Ahhh….live in that perpetual nirvana-like state.

And, there’s the true struggle.  Staying there.  Well, I have to accept that’s just not reality.  At least, for me yet.  After all, we’re still in our physical bodies and dealing with humanity everywhere we turn.

I flare up at myself when I think about how I stayed longer than I should’ve in a relationship with a serial cheater.  What was I thinking???  My blood pressure rises when I’m stuck behind someone driving 55 mph in a 70 mph zone on Interstate 75.  I’m appalled that a 60 year old driver plowed into the front of the Venice Meat Market last week.  One more Obamacare negative political ad from Florida Governor Rick Scott and I’m gonna scream!

I work out for an hour daily and watch what I eat and I’m still not losing enough weight.  My empty house was on the market for months during the worst winter ever incurring costs I certainly never planned on.  i grieve for all the families who have lost loved ones to gun violence or unnecessary wars.

Yep.  It’s a struggle to stay in that zone of serenity.  So, here’s what I think.  Focus on the positive.  Sure, everyone has issues but there is so much beauty.

Look at your children and just envelope yourself in the joy they bring you.  Watch a sunset. Take a hike in the mountains.  Is there anything like the fragrance of a magnolia in bloom or the taste of a home grown tomato?   How satisfying to finish a great book or to hear a grandchild’s first word!

Is there anything more significant in our lives than who you love or who loves you?  Love yourself for being the beautiful person you are with all your idiosyncrasies and foibles.

I think we are constantly reinventing ourselves and trying to move closer to our True Selves.  Live in Joy.  You are completely surrounded!

Driver Madness

Down here in southwest Florida, you take your life in your hands just walking through the parking lot into Costco’s.  Just yesterday, BH & I were almost run down by a driver backing out of his parking spot.  Drunk?  No.  Juvenile delinquent?  No.  Old and oblivious?  Yes!

Sad to say, it’s a common headline here.  A week ago around midnight, a 91 year old man driving southbound in the northbound land of Interstate 75 crashed head on into a Ford Explorer.  Both drivers died.  Stop and think about it.  Why is a 91 year old out on the highway at that hour?  I can’t even think about driving at night anymore.  Even my 43 year old daughter swears she won’t drive at night.  This area closes up shop very early.  Was he hanging out at the after hours clubs?  Running away from home?  I know.  Totally disrespectful, but…..it makes you wonder about these things.

In February after church, a 79 year old woman backing up a 7000 pound Tahoe mistook the brake pedal for the gas pedal and mowed down seven people, killing three of them.  She ended up in a river unhurt.  Her license was suspended for a year and she paid a $1000 fine. In 2011, she did the same thing in Michigan plowing into a lobby of a McDonald’s.  Nothing happened…no fine….no suspended license…no adjudication at all!

But, doesn’t every family have its own share of driving horror stories?  My great grandmother, Lizzie, drove her Model T into her 80s until she had a fatal collision.  Her son, John, my grandfather, was a notoriously bad driver.  He smoked nonstop, fiddling constantly with his CB radio.  He was one of those rev up, hit the brakes kind of driver, putting the fear of God into his passengers, fellow drivers and even pedestrians.

John used to race the six miles down Orange Avenue from Pine Castle to his job in Orlando.  One of my mother’s high school friends, who later became my uncle, had no car back in the 40s, so he would walk the six miles along the same route.  He was so terrified of getting in the car with my grandfather, he would hide behind bushes if he saw him coming.

My own father wasn’t all that great either.  He didn’t believe in driving the speed limit.  He drove slower and even slower as age set in.  The scariest thing he did was fall asleep at the wheel.  My mom wouldn’t dream of taking a nap or reading a book.  Her job was to keep him awake!  Even worse was the time in his mid-60s when he had a heart attack while driving to work.  For weeks, it was touch and go but he lived to tell the tale and continued driving!!  Then, they moved to the mountains which made him dizzy and nauseous.  I think my mom put the kibosh on his driving about a year before he passed at age 90.

My brother hates driving.  I don’t even think about asking him to drive to see me in Maryland or Florida.  He lives in North Carolina as does my mother.  I think he’s driven to her house once in the past 10 years.

Then, there’s my mom.  She is a trooper.  She’s turning 89 this year, still toodling around in her little blue 2004 PT Cruiser.  Actually, she’s always been a good driver and for years thought nothing of driving long distances.  I got those genes!  Last October, she had to get her license renewed but couldn’t pass the eye exam.  She was in shock!  She’s always had the best eyesight in the family!  Never needed even reading glasses!  I did not get those genes.

Come to find out she had cataracts and had to have them removed.  My mother is not enamored with doctors.  She claims she’s never had an ache in her life.  What does she need a doctor for?  Surgery on her eyes?  If I was a betting woman, I would’ve bet she’d never get those cataracts removed.  But, she did.  Just so she could pass that driver’s test!  And, amazingly, her eyesight is perfect again.

For years, I’ve traveled up and down the east coast never giving it a second thought.  Just put on an audio book or Sirius XM and I’m good to go for hours.  Generally, I don’t get tired.  I just rest or fuel up on coffee.  Last year, I was fretting over the Florida driver’s test….mainly, the vision part.  But, I passed so I’m on the road for another few years.

One day, the party will be over for me, too.  But, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.  Meanwhile, I’ll be wearing a suit of armor crossing the parking lot!

Retirement Uniform

I have always loved clothes.  To think of what I’ve spent during this lifetime makes me shudder.  Never have I bought designer stuff.  Definitely way out of my league, but I have certainly enriched Ann Taylor, Eileen Fisher, Talbot’s, and Garnett Hill quite generously.  Happy birthday to me several times a year.

Of course, I was working then, needing a ‘professional’ wardrobe with goo gobs of shoes, purses, accessories.  That wardrobe filled two walk-in closets.  Some of it I wore constantly; some of it I rarely wore.  Didn’t like it after I got it home.  Too tight.  Too loose.

I prided myself on cleaning out my closets every spring and fall.  God only knows how much I gave to Goodwill.  And, I didn’t think twice about it.  I’m sure I would sob if I added up how much those clothes cost that I cavalierly gave away.  At least, someone could surely use them, I’d rationalize.

Then, I retired.  I emptied those closets like a madwoman.  I am never going back to my day job.  I kept almost nothing.  A few tops, sweaters, pairs of pants.  A couple of dresses, one suit.  Two bathing suits.  I buy nothing nor can I afford to.  This week I am salivating over the Sundance catalog.  I love every piece of jewelry in there.  Secretly, I am coveting a top in there that I will gift myself if my house actually goes to settlement this month.  If not, oh well….the prices are nothing less than obscene anyway.

I have a retirement uniform.  Every morning, I get up and put on a black beach dress with a white starfish on the front.  I bought it at Fresh Produce in Hilton Head probably 10 years ago.  If I don’t have to go anywhere, I’ll wear if all day.  Remember the ‘house dresses’ our stay-at-home mothers used to wear everyday?  It’s a step up from that….barely.  But, I love it.  I make my coffee, read the paper and then move on to my daily workout.

I change into my other uniform:  my Life Is Good yoga pants and matching Good Karma tee shirt.  I’ve owned them forever…found the pants in North Carolina, and the shirt in Utah.  Truly, the most comfortable clothes ever.  The down side is I can’t wear them in public.  The pants have a tear across the back end and the shirt is stained with blueberry juice.  I cannot tell you how many times I’ve tried to find them on eBay or anywhere on the internet.  Life is Good stopped making the Good Karma line, so I’m out of luck.  I still love them.

Does BH care?  Are you kidding me?  He thinks whatever I wear is charming, if not sexy.  But, then, his retirement uniform is some Orioles give away tee shirt and cut off jeans from Walmart.  I think he’s only wore long jeans down here twice in six months.  We are the epitome of country casual.  Or maybe just country.

That shoe fetish I had is over.  Now, I wear Sanuk yoga mat flip flops.  Made from yoga mats, very cushiony….very good for wearing on tile floors.  If I dress up, I wear the yoga mat one inch heels.  Am I a sexy senior or what?

I remember my love coach suggested I wear scoop neck tops in warm colors.  I think the point was to be a tad bit suggestive, show some cleavage.  The assumption being I had some cleavage.  Ha!  Where’s my Wonderbra?  Well….I didn’t wear the low neck tops, invest in push-up bras or dye my hair.

And, somehow, I ended up just fine being me, living a good life in my very ‘relaxed’ beach dress, flopping around in my yoga mat sandals.  I don’t miss that wardrobe one bit!

My New Obsession

I’ve never been much of a TV fanatic.  Mainly, I was a news and sports watcher.   For a few years, I never missed a MSNBC evening show….Chris Matthews, Rachel Maddow, Keith Olberman…especially, the run up to Obama’s election in 2008.  Then, after he was elected, things turned so ugly.  The name calling, the hate rhetoric, bashing on the left, bashing on the right.  The night shows all covered the same news events the same way.  What was the point?

It was all conflict….never ending.  Not interesting in the least.  The only news I can barely stomach is the local news, but that’s after the first 15 minutes covering murders, rapes, criminals on the loose, seniors driving cars down the wrong side of the highway….that’s not even an exaggeration.  Why I even watch it is beyond me since the weather and sports I can get on my phone.  I do watch PBS news.  It’s a little more substantial than the other networks with their ‘tell the story in less than 1 minute’ requirement.

A few years ago, I was visiting my friend, Claire, in Park City, Utah, and before we headed back to Maryland, her husband introduced me to Guy Fieri on Food Network.  Have you ever seen him?  Spiky white, blond hair, a hint of pudginess around the middle, driving a fire engine red 1967 Chevy Camaro SS Convertible to his favorite Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.  God only knows how many restaurants he’s visited all over the country, tasting each one’s unique cuisine.
“Off the hook,” he moans in ecstasy with each bite.

I have to say I use his recipe for sangria and I can never make enough when I’m entertaining.  I am a bit of a sangria connoisseur, and the only better sangria is the watermelon liqueur sangria at Nando’s or the pomegranate sangria at Carrabba’s.  Try them….fabulocious!

But, Guy has done American travelers a great service.  He takes all the guess work out of where to eat local when you’re traveling.  BH and I always go to the TripleD locator….mmmm….”off the hook!,” we chuckle.

When we come to Florida, there’s a “smart” TV….now there’s an oxymoron!  With access to Netfix, we look forward to our favorite series, House of Cards.  It’s CRAZY!  I truly hope there’s not a shred of reality in that show.  I’d have to move to…..where?  Canada?  Sweden?  Is anyplace better?  Well, I don’t have to think about that today.

Like most women, I’ve definitely enjoyed Downton Abbey.  But, really, one whole season is equal to seven weekly shows?  It’s over in a blink.  It ended just after the new House of Cards season arrived.  But, now I’m done with both.  What to watch?

My new obsession?  HGTV.  All those home shows.  Can’t get enough of them.  I’m not really a sit in front of the TV kind of watcher.  I’m working out and watching at the same time…..for an hour in the morning and a half hour in the evening.  You would think I would be skinny as a rail by now on my 940 calorie per day diet.  I wish.

I love those Property Brothers, identical twin brothers, Jonathan and Drew.  If I was 30 years younger….  One’s the realtor and one’s the renovator.  Their designs are amazing, turning fixer uppers into dream houses.  They give new meaning to the term, ‘handyman.’

Then, there’s the single mom, Rehab Addict, who upends old houses and turns them into mansions.  Property Virgin is a show based in Toronto who finds people their first houses.  Love It or List It takes owners to see other houses on the market to buy, while renovating their current house.  Will they Love It or List It?  My daughter swears they always Love It but every time I watch it, they List It.  There’s also Beachfront Bargain Hunt, House Hunters, Hawaii Life, Island Hunters.  I’m thinking about ordering the HGTV magazine.

I know.  I’m obsessed.  But, God, it makes working out so much easier!!

Paralyzed

February, 1987.  On a frigid, dreary afternoon, I walked, exhausted, into my house after a day of teaching adolescents  and found my husband lying on the couch in the dark living room softly weeping..

“Kevin, what is it?  Why are you home?”

This was highly unusual.  He was a reporter for a major newspaper and didn’t get home until early evening.  My habit was to come home, take a power nap and find some energy before picking up our kids at day care.

“I’m HIV positive,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around him.  I couldn’t speak.  I just hugged him.  We’d been married for five years.  Years before, we had been swept up in the free love era.  AIDS was not on our radar.  I knew there was a slight chance but only slight.  ‘Get the test,’ I told him, thinking it would put our nervousness at ease.  

What did this mean?  I had to have it, too.  Our kids were only 2 and 3.  Were they infected?  Who would take care of them when we were gone?  The obvious questions.

Quite suddenly, this feeling of great warmth and peace enveloped me.  I said to him, “We will be all right.  We will face this together.”  We both sobbed and held each other.

He’s gone now.  He left us 18 years ago today.

He lived for 9 years after the diagnosis. I was spared, as was our children.  Miracles, the three of us.  The doctors couldn’t explain it.

Our lives together changed dramatically.  We lived in the moment.  The mundane became so sweet.  On the weekends, we never left each other’s side.  We went to the grocery store together, the hardware store, every errand we shared.

He insisted life was for living; he refused to focus on dying.  His greatest dream had been to be a father and he made every effort to be at their games, their concerts.  We spent our Friday nights eating pizza and watching the family shows, all four of us cuddling on the couch.

He was in and out of the hospital, I stayed by his side, even slept with him in his hospital bed.  Eventually, hospice moved into our home and one morning, he was gone.

I had years to prepare for this.  I wasn’t.  Could you ever be?

The City Beautiful

Orlando, Florida, that is.  The city of my birth in 1947.  At the time, it was an exquisite small southern city, oozing charm with its cobblestone streets, huge oaks with cascading Spanish moss, flower-filled parks surrounding pristine lakes.

Going north on Orange Avenue into the main part of town, you had to drive around Lake Lucerne illuminated by gas street lanterns.  I didn’t really appreciate its beauty until a super causeway was constructed right through the middle of the lake.

During my childhood, Orlando was the fastest growing city in the country.  Citrus groves were replaced by housing developments, parking lots and malls.  Dairy farmers sold out to developers who couldn’t get their money out fast enough.  County commissioners were all too happy to get fat and happy.  Zoning?  What was that?

And, that was before Disney moved in.  That was the nail on the coffin.  I left before I had to witness any further destruction.

Of course, I return often to see my family and high school friends who still live there.  There’s no happy medium on Disney for native Orlandoans.  You hate them or love them.  I have one cousin who is a serious muckety-muck there.  She started working in high school asThe Hat Girl, sewing names onto Disney hat souvenirs.  Forty years later, we still call her The Hat Girl.

Most of my family falls into the other camp.  Hate it.  The worst thing that ever happened to central Florida.  Wouldn’t step foot on Disney grounds.  Especially, those who remember what Orlando was like pre-concrete jungle days.

I remember taking the city bus with my mother, sister and brother into the middle of town and being dropped off at Central Street.  There was only one stop.

Back in those days, no southern girl or woman would go downtown without wearing white gloves and a hat.  Pants?  Are you serious?  No female wore pants back then.  Only Katharine Hepburn.  But, she wasn’t from the South.  Blue jeans?  That was what farmers wore.

No day in downtown was complete without going to Lake Eola to feed the ducks and swans.  My mother was terrified of swans because one had chased her when she was a child, honking at the top of its lungs, trying to bite her toes. She was brave for us, though.

We loved going to the public library with its overwhelming children’s section.  Every week, I took out as many books as I could carry home.

There was Ivey’s and Dickson & Ives, the two major department stores with their creaky, wood floors and elevators that took forever to get to the next floor.  I loved hearing the elevator operator stop, open the door and announce, “Mezzanine.”  I didn’t even know what language that was.  It just sounded so exotic.

We always got out on the third floor of Dickson & Ives.  That’s where the fabrics were located.  Tears immediately flooded my eyes due to the strong chemicals in the dyes.  This was my mom’s favorite place.  Practically every dress my sister and I wore was sewn by our mother.  On rare occasions, like Easter, we got something “store bought.”  I loved the clothes she made…we had quite the wardrobe.  I wasn’t particularly fond of fittings; my patience was sorely lacking.

When I look back on the prom dresses she created, I am in awe.

Toward the end of the day, we hit McCrory’s or Kresge’s, the 5 & 10 cent stores, for a little treat for each of us.  Maybe, a toy paper windmill or jacks or paper dolls.  It thrilled us to no end.  Life was a bit simpler then.

I wore dresses all through high school.  I didn’t get jeans until after college.  Culture change has been lightning fast.  The only time I wear a dress now is to a wedding, a funeral or the beach.  White gloves?  Nowhere to be found.  Hats?  Only as a sun shield.

It’s impossible to take a Sunday drive in the City Beautiful these days.  On any day, you have to plan around the traffic that has gridlocked the area.  Just to drive on Interstate 4 on our way back to Maryland, we plan around the Orlando traffic.

Going to visit my aunt, I exit I-4 onto Sand Lake Road, encountering hundreds of cars, passing such high end shops, you’d think we were on Rodeo Drive in LA.  I just laugh to myself.  Sand Lake Road in Dr. Phillips, Florida.  When I was a teenager, this was a packed sand two lane road where all the ‘hoods’ came out to drag race.  At least, that’s what I ‘heard’….lol!

Florida has seen what can happen when zoning laws have no meaning or, more to the point, when greed trumps conservation.

I love this state, but I miss my City Beautiful.

Senior Week

Not talking high school here.  I’m talking post middle age.  Like most workers, I contemplated retiring for years.  What would I do?  Would I go back to real estate?  Travel?  What would my week look like?  Most of my friends were still working. There was no Buff Honey on the scene yet.

Then, I started serious bridge…playing the duplicate tournament circuit and, before too long, I was way too happy to play bridge and way too unhappy to work.  But, really, can you just play bridge everyday for twenty years??  I couldn’t do it but the thousands of bridge clubs all over American totally prove me wrong.  Pretty much, people come seven days a week.

Boring.  I gotta mix it up.  I gotta read, work out, write.  There’s the beach, the state parks, our Florida day trips.  Botanical gardens galore.  Museums, independent films, local stage and concert events.

You hear it all the time.  “I’m more busy now than when I was working.”  I think that’s memory loss talking there.  I was crazy with responsibilities when I was a single mom raising kids, trying to keep all the calendars straight.  Working all week long, night and day, and rushing to get the laundry, house cleaning, and grocery shopping done on the weekend.

I profess the difference is that we actually have leisure time now.  Time for a little precious reflection.  Things we longed for during our 30s, 40s, and 50s.  Now, we can choose a life.

BH does not like to be over scheduled.  He needs his down time.  Basically, he opts to lead a slower life.  Because he can.  He also was a single parent with a crazy schedule.  He’s done.  His main job is to get up, exercise, and head for his poolside lounge chair with the daily papers.

Don’t get me wrong.  He likes his fun…after he’s finished with the papers.  We usually play bridge Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the afternoon.  And then we go out to celebrate or commiserate.

We never miss Martini Mondays at Allegro Bistro.  They’re $5 and ridiculously strong.  I had one sip and thought I was going to pass out.  I just have my one glass of cabernet and an unchopped salad.  Judging by the crowd, no one else has a problem with the martinis!

Tuesdays are Senior Day at Frank’s Cinema.  The parking lot is filled by 10 in the morning.  You would think these people could only see a movie on Tuesday.  Yes, it’s just $5 but, on any other day, it’s $6!  Don’t even think about going if it’s a movie that’s just opened.  You’ll be sitting on the front row…not good for the neck.  I saw ‘Wolf of Wall Street’ that way….a three hour movie!
Ben Gay was my best friend for a week.

Mi Pueblo is on wonderful Wednesday.  They open at 5 and Happy Hour ends at 6.  There are easily 100 people in line by 4:30.  Great sangria, amazing Mexican food and you can be serenaded at your table by their house band.  They’ll ask you what you’d like them to play.  What do you think BH always asks for?  ‘La Bamba.’  Is he original or what?

Back to Allegro Bistro for Jazz Thursdays.  I don’t know what time you have to get there to get a good seat.  We get there at 5 and are looking for bar stools!  The music more than makes up for the dearth of seating.

Friday is the Tiki Bar, listening to RPM.  A blend of classic rock and roll and country.  BH loves the country, I’m a true rock ’n roller.  They have a harmonica player that is balding with white curly hair hanging to his butt…looks just like Crosby from Crosby, Stills & Nash.  Besides the music, we go there for the Firecracker Shrimp.  I need a gallon of water to get it down.

Anyone who appears here is subject to our nightlife routine.  No one complains!

Tonight is Movie Night.  BH wants to see the new Liam Neeson movie as does most of the senior world here in Venice. Not me.  I’m reading or watching House of Cards…don’t get me started.

Senior Week....pretty full, right?  And this with a guy who doesn't like to be over scheduled!  Life is just full of irony.

H is for Honey

He claims to be a simple man….Buff Honey.  Definitely eschews being the center of attention.  Freezes up in crowds.  A shy man who, if called upon, can be personable if not charming.  He would be mortified if he knew he was the object of today’s post.

He requires routine.  He’s borderline obsessive compulsive.  Every morning he rises and starts his calisthenics….40 crunches, 40 sit-ups.  He throws in body twists and a few planks then he’s off to run for 45 minutes.   Some days he stops by the gym to work the machines or does strength training on the bench in the garage.  He’s been doing this for decades.  And, he looks like it!

His diet?  Terrible.  Basically, it includes meat, starches, and sugar.  Lots of sugar.  He loves his rugula for breakfast….chocolate, raspberry, cherry.  The pantry is filled with chocolate covered raisins.  There are little dishes filled with candy all over the house.  For special occasions, he orders chocolate cream pies from Dee Ziner Bakery.  Our home is never without Publix blueberry or cherry pies.  Mango key lime pie….another favorite.  Pretty much nightly, he makes a run to Scoop’s, his favorite ice cream shop for a triple scoop black cherry cone.

His size hasn’t changed in 40 years.  Me? I’ve morphed from a size 2 to 8.  I exercise daily like a mad woman and count every single calorie on my Lose It app.  My diet love affair is rooted in salt not sugar.  I can’t touch chips or fries.  I do take a teaspoon of raw sugar in my morning coffee and have an occasional sliver of pie.  BH gave me a fabulous double decker box of chocolate candy for Valentine’s Day.  Who do you think is eating most of it?

His musical tastes?  Country and Classical.  Yep.  He loves his Dwight Yoakum and Johann Bach.  Now, there’s a yin and yang for you.  Revs up with country and cools down with the longhairs.

PDA r not BH.  Public displays of affection?  Not kosher.  Okay, he’ll hold my hand walking down Venice Avenue but he’s definitely not going to plant a wet one on me in front of the universe.  He’s not one to daily profess his undying love for me.

Last week was one of those crazy busy weeks here….family visiting followed by hours of playing bridge in a local tournament.  All rush, rush.  Trying to fit in our daily workout requirements, packing lunches, traveling an hour each way.

On Saturday morning, I’m race walking to the car for the daily drive.  I opened the door and there was a jewelry box on my seat.  “What’s this??!”  I ask.  BH reminds me it’s our anniversary.  OMG!  February 22nd.  The day we committed to each other two years ago.  No formal vows.  Just a verbal agreement we made in Williamsburg.

Our vow to be faithful, love each other fully and be totally honest as only best friends can do.
“Anniversaries should be acknowledged,” he explained as I opened his gift of a necklace and earrings.

Sad to say, I had totally forgotten.  So, who’s the romantic in this relationship?  And, that’s why H is for Honey.

Let's Hear It For Misery!

My whole life I’ve been a glass half-full kind of girl.  I remember going to Doc’s, my small town’s drug store, when I was about 8 years old and Doc asking my mother, ‘Why is that child always smiling?’

I would agree that I could be labeled ‘pollyanna-ish.’ No doubt I see the world through rose-colored glasses.  No matter how tough the journey seems, I’m always convinced things will get better.  When I arise in the morning, I have a light heart…especially, after my first cup of coffee.

Of course, life is filled with highs and lows.  I’m learning to be grateful for the lows…isn’t that where our greatest growth happens?

So, over that cup of coffee, I had to chuckle when I read Marilyn Preston’s article:  “8 Easy Steps to Making Yourself Miserable.”  Why be the life of the party when you can be a party pooper and make everyone miserable?  You know that old adage, “misery loves company.”  Yeah….bring everyone down!

Then, I read her steps.

 Blame your parents.  What???  I shouldn’t blame my mother???  OMG!  Gotta grow up?

2.   Practice sustained boredom.  Tell everybody how bored you are….people love to hear that?Go for drama….have an affair, start meaningless fights.  Oh, so fun.

3.  Don’t enjoy life’s pleasures.  Forget that beautiful sunset.  No museums, movies or plays.  Put that book down.  Get focused on the world’s ills.  Okay.  I can’t really relate to this, since I’m all about life’s pleasures!

4.  Ruminate.  Focus totally on yourself.  Especially, your flaws and faults.  Turn molehills into mountains.

5.  Be critical.  Develop a negative attitude about everything and anything!  Don’t let anyone catch you being positive.  Be a traffic-hater, an Obamacare-hater.  Point out the flaws in anyone you come into contact with.  “What made you think that dress is attractive?”

6.  Avoid gratitude.  Never count your blessings.  What blessings?  Just know you have been given a terrible life and suffer.

7.  Give yourself a negative identity.  Think you’re depressed?  Read all you can about it and take on that persona.  Maybe you could be socially anxious.  No matter what, don’t smile.

8.  Whatever you do, do it for personal gain.  Life is all about you.  Don’t volunteer or donate to charity.  Take care of numero uno, even if you hate yourself.

I admit I had to laugh out loud when I read this.  Of course, it’s all tongue in cheek but don’t you know people like this?  Maybe they’re not practicing all of the steps but there are lots of glass half-empty people out there.

They have to be pretty miserable, and what kind of people are they attracting?  More miserables.



Personally?  I’d rather keep my own company.  Sunset, anyone?  Life is just too short.

Sound the Alarms

I woke up Saturday morning to what sounded like a feeble alarm.  Buff Honey scrambled to turn it off.

“What was that?”  I asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Yes, it was.  Sounded like an alarm.”

In most households in America, this would not be earth shattering news.  In our house, however, it had never happened in over two years.  We are retired people.  I know even retired people get up before dawn.  Not us.  And, especially, not BH.

For decades, he rose before 6 to get on that Harley and ride into the ridiculous Washington traffic in rain, sleet, snow, fog.  I swear that’s why he’s immune to cold weather.  Supporting five children on one income, he found a myriad of ways to save money.  And, thanks to his discipline, we’re enjoying a delightful life.

But, my heavens, it was 7 o’clock in the morning….light barely peeping through the blinds.  “Why are you getting up?”  He reminded me he was going to pick up trash in the community.  This activity was sponsored by the homeowners’ association and he was determined to do his part.  Definitely, admirable, I’d say.

“What time are you meeting them?”
“9 o’clock.”
“Really, it’s going to take you two hours to get ready to pick up trash?”

Ahhh….but there’s the Saturday morning workout routine….calisthenics, bench presses, 40 minute run.  Between bench press reps, he’s cooking bacon and scrambled eggs.  That’s the Saturday breakfast.  Sunday breakfast is waffles.

He is set in his ways.  When he does arise between 9 and 11, he is an exercise maniac!  He would not think of taking a day off.  He does it all before he eats.

Of course, I’m set in my ways, too.  I wake up around 8, almost always before he’s even stirring.  I make my coffee, pick up the paper from the driveway and sit.  I opt to slowly move into the day.  As long as I can remember, I read the paper and drank my coffee before uttering a word.  Oh, and I must do the Sudoku puzzle….in pen on Monday through Wednesday, pencil later in the week as they inevitably get harder.

And, then and only then, do I think about exercising.  I’m now up to four or five miles walking in the morning with scattered toning using bands and bar bells.  I used to be a true couch potato, exercising intermittently.  Stress from work just overwhelmed my desire to move.  I couldn’t wait to get home and be a vegetable.

When I retired five years ago, I vowed to exercise everyday.  And, I’ve been pretty good about it.  Not perfect…especially, when we’re traveling.  Actually, the truth is I hate exercising.  I hate going to a gym, surrounded by all the perfect bodies.  I prefer my in-home DVDs.  Usually, I exercise 45 minutes to an hour.  My favorite way to accomplish this feat is to put on the DVD without sound and turn on the Dr. Phil Show or The View or some sporting event I can get into.
Yep….crazy but it works for me.  Before I know it, my routine is over and I’m smugly satisfied that that marriage Dr. Phil claims he can fix is going to hell in a hand basket.

We live in a gated community.  Absurd, but true.  Way more trouble than it’s worth since the gate is slower than watching the little hand on a clock.  Or the fact that the process for admitting guests changes every two weeks.

You should read the emails that come from the president of the community.  You would think we were living in a hell hole.  OMG, the landscaping needs to be completely overhauled.  OMG, the renters are ruining the community.  OMG, we had to send out 400 letters to owners to fix up their lawns (that’s half the houses).

We love it here.  We think the landscaping is beautiful.  When you naively say something positive, you get an earful about how wonderful is was a couple of years ago but now it’s on a serious downhill slide.  Hmmmm….hard not to take that personally!

God bless the people who take on these roles.  Would you ever want to be president of a homeowners’ association?  The only reason I would be interested in it is to keep the fees low.  But, I don’t have enough patience in the world.

It’s like they take on this little power trip.  I think they’re retired police sergeants or military.  I think they’re just a little regimented.

I bet they started by going to the community trash day.  Uh oh…do you think BH has higher ambitions?  I absolutely do not want to be First Lady.

Who Was PSH Anyway?

It’s over.  Just like that.  He’s gone.  Vanished.  Late to meet his three young children in Central Park.  Found with a needle in his arm in his apartment filled with baggies of white stuff and pills.

One of America’s most revered actors.  Philip Seymour Hoffman.  Died of a heroin overdose at age 46.

We are bombarded daily with death reports….war, car accidents, shootings, obituaries (Yes, I read them religiously every single day).  It seems like we have to encapsulate our hearts in steel to lessen the effect.

There’s so much of it that I rarely have a visceral reaction.  Nora Ephron’s passing truly got to me.  One of my heroines.  The self-deprecating humor.  Her horrible marriage to Carl Bernstein depicted in Heartburn….where she describes her husband as “capable of having sex with a Venetian blind.”  In I Feel Bad About My Neck and I Remember Nothing , aging women such as myself laugh out loud at her observations as we reflect on our changing bodies and minds.

And, now.  PSH.  Heroin overdose?!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!!  At least, Nora died with dignity….leukemia.  At least, her family and friends could have some closure in her last days.  A drug overdose…so cruel to the survivors.

I’m sure it’s complicated why this happened.  But, I don’t see it that way….at least, not now.  I’m angry about it….even as I know that’s not my higher self talking.  I’m haunted by this death.  I think about it when I close my eyes at night and try to get myself into some of peaceful slumber.

For the past two nights, I haven’t been able to do it.  So many unanswered questions.  What the hell was he thinking?  How could he leave his beautiful children with this legacy?  One of our most gifted artists, an intellectual, a talented and loving partner who by all accounts is a devoted mother.  He supposedly was a doting father.  Plenty of resources to lead a comfortable and satisfying life.

And, yet, he still stuck that needle in his arm…just like any junkie.  No thoughts of leaving behind his children….only seeking the next high.

He ended his life….and he ended the lives of his children and his partner.  Nothing will ever be the same for them.  Ever.

PSH had ended his addictions 23 years ago….until last spring when prescription pills for pain restarted his quest for the perfect high.  He even checked in to rehab and checked himself out after 10 days.  That worked.  And now his apartment is filled with baggies.

His demons were clearly in control.  We all have them.  I know I do.  I’ve struggled with cigarettes and occasional binge drinking forever.

Hypnosis helped me get rid of the cigarettes.  Done with the binge drinking.  I had to face my fears about loneliness and anxiety and just love who I am warts and all.  I decided I wanted to stay alive as long as I could to be with my family.  It was then that I found Buff Honey and my joy grew exponentially.

Quite frankly, I never had the out of control drug experience.  Yes, I liked that morphine for pain after my hip surgery, but I knew I had to get off that stuff immediately!

I’m beyond fortunate that my children weren’t popping oxycontin or snorting cocaine or using crack or heroin.  Alcohol?  Yes, but they lived through there teens and twenties and are way more mature than me.

Many parents go through hell and back to save their children from drugs.  A teacher friend of mine moved to one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Maryland, sent her kids to the top high school and she even worked in the school.  Her oldest child, her only son, died of a heroin overdose the night of his high school graduation.  Is it any wonder she had a double mastectomy the following year?

I do think that probably addictive behavior runs in families.  I know it’s in mine.  I have a cousin that was addicted to drugs and alcohol early in high school and, after many harrowing years, gave it all up with the help of AA and whatever he calls a higher power.  It’s been almost 20 years now.  He did it right.  He didn’t marry or have children until he was whole.  Sobriety has brought him the most fulfilling life he could’ve ever imagined.

Living alone is not a good thing for me.  Being part of a family unit or partnership promotes a healthier lifestyle….unless, you’re both in the cups.

I wonder about Philip Seymour Hoffman.  Why was he not living with his kids?  God knows, it’s more difficult to shoot up when you’re rooted in busy family life.

I also know it’s not that easy.  There’s no simple explanation.  The demons came back.  They were in control.  Explain that to a 3 year old who will never see her daddy again.

Only her daddy could answer the questions.

A Dream Shattered

When I was growing up in the South, there were basically two types of neighborhoods:  White and Black.  There wasn’t much mixing it up unless you were black and employed by whites.  Those were the days of segregation…separate but unequal restaurants, motels, drinking fountains, schools.

Pretty early in life, I understood intrinsically this was wrong.  When you’re a child and being inundated with Christian and American values, how does segregation hold up?  For me, it was impossible to rationalize the obvious discrepancies.  I knew I had to leave the South.  I wanted to embark on an adventure that would open other worlds for me.

At age 16, I took a train by myself to visit friends on Long Island.  This was my first trip to the Northeast and I was enthralled with the accents, dress, hairstyles.  New York City!  Museums, Broadway, taxis, Macy’s elegant holiday windows.  But, what I really remembered was Greenwich Village.  This was 1963.  I saw my first interracial couple.

After graduating from Florida State University in 1969, my new husband and I moved to Massachusetts.  What an education for me!  First, I was shocked that people upon hearing my accent assumed I was racist!  Second, I learned the Northeast was pretty much as segregated as the South….without the overt Jim Crow laws.

There, the neighborhoods were even more segregated due to immigrant status.  There were Italian neighborhoods, Irish…French…Lithuanian…Romanian…German.  You name it, it had a neighborhood.  I remember when I was in grad school, living in New Britain, Connecticut, walking into any grocery store and never hearing a word of English.  I didn’t even recognize what language it was….not Spanish, French, German.  Later, I learned the area was an Eastern European enclave.

I eventually became one of those urban pioneers…white people moving into black neighborhoods, hoping to integrate schools through housing.  We wanted to help create a more diverse culture for our children to grow up in.  As long as groups and races are separate, a culture of fear of the unknown exists, persists, and thrives.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work where I lived.  There was too much crime, too much intimidation.  Neighborhood associations tried to accommodate the different groups and promote harmony but just couldn’t.

During this time, I learned about Jim Rouse’s experiment:  Columbia.  A planned community founded in 1967 where all races and socioeconomic groups were welcomed and accepted.  A community built on the village concept.  Each village contained a shopping area and schools, surrounded by apartments, condos, townhouses and single family houses where anyone regardless of income could live.  Coventry, Connecticut was trying to clone it but never did.

After my divorce in 1973, I eventually found Kevin, my best friend and confidant, who I married in 1982.  I had a 12 year old daughter, who I did not want to send to any city public high school and private school was financially out of the question for me.  I was also sick to death of New England winters and the fact is, we knew only one other couple in a biracial relationship.

When we had our son, we made the decision to leave.  Kevin was from Silver Spring, Maryland, so Columbia seemed like a place we should visit.  Before meeting our realtor, we walked around the Mall to get an idea of what the atmosphere and culture were like there.  As trite as this sounds, we were blown away by the diversity that already existed there….black families, white families, Asian families and interracial families galore.

This was an obvious choice for us.  We both wanted our children to grow up in a town that was inclusive, welcoming and academically challenging.  We hit the jackpot!  Howard County schools still rank as one of the top school systems in the country.

Our youngest was born in Columbia seven months after we moved.  Our kids grew up on a street with 40 kids around their ages.  Every afternoon, they were playing street hockey or basketball or soccer.  The place was a regular United Nations with Vietnamese, Indian, French, Middle Eastern, African American and several biracial children.

The Columbia Mall was our Main Street, our town center.  It’s where we went for lunch after soccer games.  It’s where the kids rode the merry-go-round on Saturdays.  It’s where we bought their first pair of shoes.  it’s where we went for brunch after their baptisms.  It’s where my oldest worked at Le Baguette for years…where my son worked at Panera and my youngest worked at The Lang Store.

It’s where we called home….our refuge.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am for Jim Rouse and the little bit of heaven he created for interracial families and for all families in his great experiment, Columbia.

I grieve that we have had our dream shattered.

Eyes On the Prize

It’s cold here in Florida.  Of course, that’s relative.  Florida is where us Northeasterners come to escape winter.  A real winter….like sub freezing temps and snow and ice storms.  Here, we just have 60 degree days.  Occasionally, we get close to freezing nights where people put sheets over their plants.  Buff Honey and I are tough….we’ve never even turned on the heater.

Last January, we had a ton of 80 degree days…we were the envy of our friends up north.  So much so that they decided to come down and spend January here.  Unfortunately, not too many beach days this year.

But, so what?!  We can still party, right?!  Five couples happy to shake those winter blues, sitting around noshing, drinking, and sharing our stories on aging.  Seriously, doesn’t that sound fun?

Does anyone sleep together anymore?  Sleep patterns are all askew.  One has to go to bed at 9 to read and fall asleep.  The other has to stay up ’til God knows when and then can’t sleep.  Some have to have white noise.  Others can’t stand it.  Some have to fall asleep in front of the TV.

Most everyone has some form of sleep apnea….not kidding here.  Most go through the nightmare of going to sleep centers where they put 50 wires on your head and then tell you to fall asleep.  Right.

Who could wear those sleep apparatuses anyway?  I know I could never sleep with that thing on….I’d be fighting claustrophobia all night long.  Sleep?  Not on your life.  The choice is feeling suffocated or dying in the middle of the night.  I’ll take Plan B.  Just the way I want to go….in my sleep.

And, then, there’s my mother who can drink a cup of black coffee, crawl into bed and be snoring in 30 seconds.  Do I have to wait to my 80s to get back to real sleep?

When the ‘girls’ get together, it’s all about our sagging boobs, chin wattle, unsightly necks, crepey skin.  My personal issue is with my hair.  I used to be one of the hairiest women I knew.  Tons of hair on my arms…at least, it was blond.  I had to shave my legs and underarms almost daily.  The hair on my head was so thick, it would take four hours to dry.

Now, I’m constantly patting the sides of head…what happened to all that hair?  I guess an upside is that it’s curlier and takes almost no time to air dry.  Rarely do I have to shave.  In fact, I don’t think I have any hair on the back of my legs.

Sometimes I wonder if I had cancer again and had to get chemo, would my hair ever return?  I guess that’s a minor question relative to surviving the disease.  Just get a good wig.

I ponder what my life lessons are supposed to be and I know one of them is vanity.  I also know I haven’t mastered that lesson yet.  It’s just a fact.  I don’t judge myself…another life lesson.  I’m not a saint.

I go back and forth about cosmetic surgery.  I say, if you will feel better about yourself, then just do it.  But, then, I think….can’t you feel fine about yourself without altering your appearance?  That’s rather hypocritical coming from me as I’ve already had my eyes done and I am very satisfied with the results.

This time of the year, all kinds of articles are being written about staying committed to those New Year goals, especially when it comes to health and wellness.  Change your lifestyle…stick with it….promise yourself a big prize!

AHA!!!  A big prize?!  Like a facelift??!!  I like it!

Movie Day

If it’s Tuesday, it must be Movie Day.  All you seniors out there know it.  Especially you cinephiles like Buff Honey and me.

Ya gotta love Frank’s Galleria Cinema here in Venice, where long lines form early for that $5 ticket and $5 senior snack pack of small popcorn and drink.  Cheap, cheap, cheap.  We never miss a week!

I admit I’m a movie snob....no action thrillers, no horror pictures.  Don’t love science fiction or animated films.  I abhor violence.  I can’t take anymore slavery movies or holocaust movies.  I know, I know, it’s important to remember our past so we don’t repeat it.  Got it.  And, I agree, but I got that lesson a long time ago and now if I see that kind of violence, I can’t sleep for days and just feel sick that people can treat others so horribly.

BH, however, doesn’t have those hangups....although he will pretty much ignore the one star or no star movies.  The great thing about Frank’s is that they show pretty much everything!  Even the independents...a rarity for most big theatres.

Now is one of my favorite times of the year.  The awards.  I know it’s cheesy and ridiculous to pick one movie out of great movies.  Really....can you choose the best child out of your own tribe?  Of course not.  But, I still love the excitement of trying to predict the best...or more to the point, will they agree with me?

That’s hardly likely since I rarely pick a winner.  I’m sure this year will be no different.  Now, the nominees are coming out....Academy Awards tomorrow.  Golden Globe winners were announced Sunday....if the producers of these events would just let Tina and Amy host all of these shows, the ratings would be astronomical!

I have a couple of favorite movies this year.  Loved Muscle Shoals.  It’s a documentary so I guess that doesn’t count; but I’m a blues and southern rock and roll lover and seeing that live footage and interviews with the under-knowns that made it happen was awe-inspiring.  I could see it over and over, especially in a theatre with fabulous sound.

Dallas Buyers Club moved me more than any other film experience I had this year.  It’s heart wrenching yet courageous.  I’m sure it probably affected me more profoundly than many people because of my direct experience with AIDS. but haven’t most people by this point, had a connection?  Matthew McConnaughey lost nearly 50 pounds and was nothing less than brilliant.  Even more impressive was Jared Leto as the transvestite, Rayon....he as a she was beautiful and vulnerable.

When they both won awards at the Golden Globes, I jumped out of my seated with joy!  That will probably not repeat at the Academy Awards but what an affirmation for their performances in a truly gritty movie.

Saw American Hustle last week.  Extraordinary ensemble...David Russell, director and screenwriter, is again fearless in this fictional comedy based on the ABSCAM scandal of the 1970s.  You won’t even recognize Christian Bale, he’s so bloated...or for that matter, Jennifer Lawrence who’s so hilariously brazen.  I need to see it again.  There’s just so much there.

Did not love Her, but BH totally disagrees.  Futuristic.  That’s my problem...just too grounded in the present.  Joaquin Phoenix plays a sad introvert who writes beautiful prose for a living but can’t convey emotion in his own reality.  Gradually, he falls in love with Samantha, a computer operating system, who becomes so real to him that he brings her on double dates and totally loses it when he learns she is dating 3000 other people and is in love with 691 of them.

You can definitely see Spike Jonze’s point as you walk on the street and see hundreds of people texting on their cellphones.  Are we losing the art of conversation or relationship?  Geez....I really hope this is not our future!  Of course, it won’t be my future as I’ll be checking out long before that happens...lol.

The Wolf of Wall Street.  A Martin Scorsese production...ya think??!!  Completely over the top in every conceivable way.  I read one interview where Leo DeCaprio and Scorsese would ruminate about whether some of the scenes were too much.  Believe me, nothing was vetoed!  A three hour movie?  I love movies but around the two hour mark, I’m ready to move on.  I can honestly say I was captive for the entire time.

Didn’t see 12 Years a Slave....just can’t handle it.  BH thought it was the best movie of the year.  He also thought Gravity was excellent...too out there for me.  Too science fictiony...too suspenseful.

Suspense is just not good for me....or the people around me.  I get so scared I jump in my seat, grab BH and throw my popcorn into the air.

Better that I see something totally inane like The Millers or This Is The End or The Heat, where I can laugh my head off!

Hey!  I never professed to be an intellect!

Beginning Anew

It’s a new year....again!  How joyously I can report that!  I’m alive and so are you.  What fun!  And, so what did you do on New Year’s Eve?

I can honestly say I’ve made it to midnight every year of my adult life.  However, I am not one to drag myself to Times Square or to First Night or any of the other big events that require mobs to celebrate.

I’m one to stay home....or to celebrate quietly with a few good friends cooking lobster or steak and reflecting on our hopes for the coming year.  Sometimes, I’ve watched the TV entertainment.  My sister loves Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin.  I never even knew they had a show on CNN.

There was always Dick Clark, right?  You know you watched it, too.  Millions just like me.  Then, he had his stroke.  Did that stop him from ringing in the new year in front of millions?  Noooo....  Okay, on the one hand, you have to celebrate that he wasn’t going to let something as catastrophic as a stroke stop him from taking center stage.  That’s admirable, right?

But, on the other hand, didn’t someone tell him how difficult he was to watch?!  I hated to see my American Bandstand idol slur his words.  It was nothing if not disheartening and I could only take about five minutes before switching the channel.

This year, I watched nothing at all.  Buff Honey and I sat in our respective chairs reading our current books and around 11:30, we eased ourselves into the hot tub for a nice, relaxing soak.  Ahhhhh.....a glass of wine and some dark chocolate....perfect.

What are my hopes for 2014?  Last year, I was determined to lose weight...15 pounds.  Is that so impossible?  Well, I didn’t and I think I even added a couple.

Of course, this is soooo ridiculously common that I hate to even write it.  I’m making changes this time.  I learned I can’t drink and lose weight.  I can’t snack at night and lose weight.  I can’t skip my daily 30 minute workout and lose weight.  I can’t eat sugar.  I can’t eat processed or fried foods.  No fast food.  No chips or fries.  I have to be totally honest on my LoseIt app!

Then, I’d like to sell my house in Maryland....doesn’t help that a pipe burst in the garage a couple of days ago and it’s still only 13 degrees there today.

I’d like to have my osteoarthritis disappear...no more achy hips and knees...no more popping iburpofen and tylenol.  I’d like my chin to reappear.  What happened to my formerly angular face?  All soft and round now.  Who is that woman in the mirror?

How is this year going to be different from last year?  For one thing, I’m meditating every day.  I used to only meditate when I know I’m going to write but the benefits of meditating are limitless.  Fifteen to twenty minutes every morning.  It gives me energy, a softer outlook, insights that are so close to us but that we often miss because we’re so involved in our busy-ness.

Yesterday, after meditating, I just gave up being anxious about my house.  This is a short term problem.  This, too, will pass as my mom used to say.  I can’t obsess about this.  Do I love giving up half my income to a place I don’t live in?  A thousand times no but it won’t go on forever.

I need to volunteer more.  In Maryland, I worked for Hospice, which meant a lot to me (although I hated having to get flu shots!).  My brother works for a homeless kitchen in North Carolina several times a week.  He really makes a difference.  I’d like that again.

I’m grateful for being nearsighted so I can read to my heart’s content!  I just finished The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt.  784 pages.  Really.  I had never heard of her but the Washington Post raved about this book.  That’s double the number of pages I usually read.  I took the plunge.

In the first chapter, an eight year old boy goes to an art museum in New York City with his mother on their way to meet with the principal at his school.  She’s killed when a bomb explodes in the museum.

His alcoholic father left years before, his grandparents want nothing to do with raising him.  He’s on his own with the huge hole in his heart that had been filled with his mother’s love.  It’s a devastating intro.  It was difficult for me to get into because it was so painful.

But, I did.  And I was rewarded with some exquisitely philosophical prose.
 “That life--whatever else it is--is short.  That fate is cruel but maybe not random.  That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to grovel and bow to it.  That maybe we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves in it anyway, wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open.”  

For me, the meaning was about being courageous and living without fear.  One thing I do know is that living in fear is living in the dark.  If there’s one thing I’d like to remember is to act out of love.  Love is where the light is.

I think 2014 could be a great year, especially if I could find my waistline again!