I don't like February. I find it cruel, and generally untrustworthy. It's like the cat of months. Here are six reasons why.
I don't usually write about politics, or world issues. If you've read my posts here, they are generally about parenting, personal change, life. However, the past months have been shocking on virtually every level.
It's not the flowers, gifts or candle-lit dinners. While those are lovely, it's the everyday, little things that stack up. I know I'm a serious piece of work. Complicated. So is my husband. "Our love, beats the stops and starts, of complicated hearts."
At 52, I had found the love of my life. We have each come to this union via our own paths -- individual joys and sorrows. It is right timing. We truly see each other; that is the most magnificent gift of all.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling vaguely depressed, but until my husband Nick wished me 'happy birthday', I didn't realize this was the day I turn 75-years-old. I think I was dreading this birthday partly because my mother died at 74. (Her birthday was Feb. 3, 1911, mine is Feb. 4, 1941.)
Divorce after 60 may be painful, but, at least it is no longer a taboo subject. It's also a challenge that more and more women are facing as our generation ages.
It was the best decision I've ever made.
Don't compare your night to your friends' nights.
I'm not sure if anyone or anything can ever really prepare you for all of the trials that come with loving someone who cooks for a living.
While I may not be able to make a card half as beautiful as my daughter's, there are small things I can do every day to show my children I love them.
Medellin may not be the first place that springs to mind when you're thinking of your perfect overseas retirement spot ... but perhaps it should be.
When my husband and I went to Las Vegas, I pushed inhibitions and protocol aside and wore a dress so short that I had to be careful when I raised my arms. Blame it on Vegas. I mean it.
Approaching my 55th birthday I said a prayer, 'Please let true love come into my life at this stage of my journey.' A couple of years later I was on a plane headed home from a speaking engagement in Chicago. A few minutes later, with cellphone in hand, a tall handsome gentleman strode up the aisle.
As a young woman in the 1960s I defined beauty according to an ideal I saw in magazines -- one I had no hope of meeting. That didn't stop me trying though. I ironed my wild hair, lemon juiced my freckles and did the coconut oil thing in the hope of getting a tan.
My cousin remarried -- just shy (by a month) of age 50 -- about three years ago. We live in different states and don't see each other, but thanks to Facebook, I feel connected and up-to-date on her life. After she met her new love, it was broadcast on Facebook like a classic, modern love story.
And when you fall in love, and you will, he will kiss the crinkles around your eyes and mouth, the fine lines on your neck certain to deepen one day like rings in an old tree. He will hold your still mostly firm breasts and delight in watching your buttocks walk away.