I'm not sure if I really believe in reincarnation, but I do find the notion very seductive. One can take a measure of comfort in the belief that, although one's physical body may be dead, the soul can still thrive. Just think about it. I, or at least my soul, can start a new life
My husband, bless his soul, has figured out a unique and effective way to guarantee social distancing. He has grown a mustache. While I believe that I’m as affectionate as the next guy, it’s hard to arouse enthusiasm about puckering up when I feel I’m about to kiss my hair brush. I think it’s only
I'm not sure if I really believe in reincarnation, but I do find the notion very seductive. One can take a measure of comfort in the belief that, although one's physical body may be dead, the soul can still thrive. Just think about it. I, or at least my soul, can start a new life
Ladies: did you know that when you walk into a store to buy a new bra, the odds are that you're going to buy the wrong size? And, if you've been buying bras for as long as I have, this is very disturbing news. Now I stay awake at night wondering how improper bra selection
I would like to have a conversation about bare-chested men. And no, this topic did not arise from some erotic fantasy in which I was a castaway on a deserted island with Vladimir Putin. But rather, a reality that I have confronted on a rather regular basis now that the weather has heated up here
The other evening, I accidentally discovered a new link to my inner child. I lost my front tooth. Or, as my dentist exclaimed, “My dear, you have fractured your incisor.” Call it what you will, I now have a gaping space in my mouth that is aligned with my left nostril, and completely visible when
My husband and I just returned from a successful 10-day holiday. I deem it successful because we managed to avoid almost all of the hazards of traveling. We had: no flight delays, no lost luggage, comfortable hotels, absence of intestinal backlash, good weather, and letting others do the driving, which greatly minimizes opportunities
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.
At first, I wasn’t sure why my mind wandered to this particular topic. It might have been the sense of torture brought on by endless exposure to political gurus. Or perhaps it was the stomach ache which followed an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The latter occurred as I was perusing the latest issue of The
