I have a personal hate-hate relationship with all things technical. Change one little thing on your computer and it's like the butterfly in Australia that flaps its wings and causes tornados in Kansas. Trying to fix it changes enough things to add monsoons in Asia.
I don't reach out as often as I should. But I see your beautiful families. And I smile.
Sister, you do you in college. Won't that be great?
If you've noticed that your parent has become frail and in need of care, then you've probably noticed something else ... this care is really crazy expensive!
Back in Waterford, Ireland this week for my first visit in years, I'm taking a fresh look. I'm impressed and, to tell you the truth, surprised by how much my former hometown has improved itself.
Summer is sputtering to a close. It's almost September and all across the country, the nest is emptying once again for another set of parents. It's been years since our youngest child has left for college, but I remember that time well. It was a year of painful adjustment.
I might have liked the Square Dance unit in gym class if I hasn't been a head taller than every boy in the universe. I'm sure the cute, short girls had buckets of fun in the 1960s allemanding left and promenading all over the place. Remind me to poll them on Facebook.
Just about everyone gets a bad boss sooner or later. At my age, I've been through several. My motto has always been, 'Just Outlast the Bastard.' For the most part, that mantra has worked. But now I also do something else.
Our generation gets a bad rap for supposedly being behind the times and slow to learn. Experts, however, tell us that nothing can be further from the truth. Here is some advice and reassurance for boomers who may be wondering if the times have indeed passed them by.
My husband bought me a massage table. I'm not kidding. A really good, really pricey table, with accessories! Felty-soft table bedding and a collection of lavender-infused oils and lotions.
I no longer think that what I have to say is unimportant and I no longer care if I think no one wants to hear it because frankly, I'm tired of being polite. So yes, I do have something to say so sit down and I refuse to wait any longer for someone to ask what I think.
It all starts on Sunday afternoon. That overwhelming sensation that the weekend is coming to an end, the ominous notion that Monday is just around the corner (again?!), the realization that all fun weekend-ey things are coming to a close. The feeling gets louder as the day progresses.
Today I had a day off with nothing planned, which actually made me feel a little uncomfortable. I generally like to have a list to check off in order to feel productive, but nothing I had to do was screaming out as urgent. Thus, I felt no urge to do any of it, so I didn't.
have been married to my wife for 40 years. She went through menopause in her early 40s. She had breast cancer two years before menopause. The creams didn't really work, sex just wasn't the same. Since she had breast cancer, HRT is out.
This business of 'you don't look your age' ... What does it mean exactly? And mind you, I'm guilty of saying it too! I intend it as a compliment of course, and I know that when people tell me I don't look 50-something they are saying I look younger. But, is that a good thing?
What do you mean you mailed a college application? Get back down on the floor and play with some Legos. Do you want me to make you a sandwich? Or, you can invite your friends over and we'll order pizzas. You can stay up all night, if you want. I'll just go cry in my room, but don't let that bother you.