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
I am in recupery. To describe my present condition as "recovery" gives the impression that I've entered a 12-step program. Which I haven't. Although I wouldn't object to attending AA meetings provided they were held anywhere that was not my living room. As you know, if you were paying attention (see essay posted on July
I apologize for the fact that I’m late in delivering this new post. That is, if anyone even noticed that I’m a few days past my deadline. Five to be exact, if you happen to mark your calendar. Which I highly doubt. But that’s okay. I don’t mind my usual timeliness being taken for granted.
Dear Diary: I have to confess that what I’m about to do feels very weird indeed. I haven’t written in a diary since I was a love-sick teenager, age 13. It was the summer that my first boyfriend Joey dumped me for my best friend, Joanie. Perhaps the alliterative sound of Joey and Joanie was
Greetings from the high seas! My darling and I are about to embark on our very first cruise. According to our sea-going friends, we’ve waited much too long to indulge in this wonderful way to travel and see the world. Since we’ve always enjoyed exploring new places on land, we had postponed cruising until we
2016 Independent Publisher Book Awards Results April 2016 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHER Congratulations and sincere thanks to the independent authors and publishers who participated in our 20th annual, 2016 Independent Publisher Book Awards contest. Here are the gold, silver and bronze medalists in our 80 National categories. READ MORE
