So here we are, on the cusp of a brand new year. There’s a lot to be said about 2017, but I’ve made it a practice to limit the use of four-letter words on my web site. Therefore, I shall let Fox News and CNN continue to battle it out, and direct my comments elsewhere.
We may disagree on a number of things, such as the best way to unroll the toilet paper, from the top or from the bottom, but my darling and I are in complete accord when it comes to dogs. We love them, and can’t live without them. If you’re not a dog person, or even
It is the common wisdom that men, especially men of a certain generation, do not like to shop. In fact, a British survey of over 2,000 people found that men became bored after only 20 minutes of shopping, while women could go for a full two hours. This should come as a surprise to no
NYC Big Book Award honors Susan Goldfein by selecting How Old Am I in Dog Years.... as the 2017 winner in the Humor category. Susan commented, "I am beyond proud to announce that I have been awarded the best Comedy book for NYC's Big Book Awards! Thank you to all you crazy fans for the continued support, I
Recently, I’ve been giving a good deal of thought to kissing. In fact, I believe it’s becoming a mild, and hopefully temporary, obsession. The type of kissing to which I’m referring is not the romantic, erotic “French” kiss (yes, I still remember those), but the less passionate and tongueless social kiss. I’m fairly certain that
I hate lunch. It is definitely my least favorite meal of the day. And by far the most boring. And also disruptive, much like an intermission during a play. Which I also hate. Not the play. The intermission. I frequently choose to skip it altogether. The lunch meal, not the play. I have read that
I am not, by nature, a competitive person. If I even so much as win at a game of Scrabble, my inclination is to leap over the board, hug the loser, and say "sorry." Yet, each morning, upon opening my eyes, I find myself engaged in a verbal duel. I'm not exactly sure when this
I don't have a bucket list. There, I said it. I hope this confession will not strip away my senior citizen discounts. After all, it has taken me years to get here and I deserve to ride for half-fare. But it had to be said. Even if I risk losing my benefits. Having reached a
Since becoming a "woman of a certain age" September has taken on a whole new meaning. I'm reminded of this as I sit at my desk, which suddenly has become strewn with postcards I've received from the medical community reminding me that it's once again time to check in for a check-up. I commented on
As far as I'm concerned, "productive" should be a four-letter word. I say this because, like other four-letter words, it's a curse. Or can be, when one has become so accustomed to ''doing" that sitting still for more than three minutes at a stretch is proof positive that you're a lazy, therefore unworthy, member of
