They say, “You can’t go home again.” ‘They’ in this case, being Thomas Wolfe (I had to Google that). I didn’t feel that way. I loved going home. Especially in those after-college years, when I was furiously working, moving from state to state - and felt anything but settled. Going home felt like a respite from a fast moving life bursting with uncertainties. At home everything was familiar and comfortingly complacent. Inhale the scent of the house you grew up in, exhale anxiety from the foreign world that is your real life.
Its that time of year when we reluctantly shed the comfort of layers on our middle age bodies and face sleeveless shirts, shorts and (gulp) bathing suits. Today I chose the lessor of those evils and threw on a pair of white shorts. They blend into my incredibly pale legs; except for the age spots that I swear are taking on the shape of a wine bottle. All I need is a sharpie and I’ve got the tattoo I always wanted.
For sure the best part about getting a new job is that you can stop looking for a new job. Just ceasing the obsessive checking of LinkedIn to see ‘who’s viewed your profile?!’ like a reality star counting Twitter followers, is a relief. I’m telling you right off the top that I am both grateful for this opportunity and proud of the company I work for – this is just in case that message gets lost in my little narrative below.
I was enjoying a deliciously relaxing weekend at my friend’s lake house, working a crossword puzzle when I looked up over my readers and announced Judge Judy was on. I laughed at myself and declared it was time to go back to work before I started scouting early bird specials.
Are you familiar with the ‘HumbleBrag’? It’s too new to have an official spelling, so I made one up, but does have a definition: ‘an ostensibly modest statement whose actual purpose is to draw attention to something of which one is proud’....
Every year in the early fall, more than a dozen friends venture out together for our annual ‘Girls’ Trip’. Probably ‘Girls’ is an odd euphemism for 50-somethings, but it is just too ridiculous to call it a Ladies’ Trip. More on that in a moment.
I have been thinking it’s time to take a big step and begin a new relationship. One full of devotion, an understanding of my needs and endless cuddles. Thought I was talking about the perfect man didn’t you? Not this time.
When I met and married my husband Dave, I was past my expiration date for producing offspring. Our little girl ‘Halo’ probably doesn’t count, as she is a Doberman and was birthed via surrogate, not via me. Despite being childless, we have never been without children.
Red or White? That is the question. Maybe you are answering, “Why on earth choose?”. You are correct! A toast to you and your good taste! You are in what we term an ideal situation. Sadly for some of us, it’s just one or the other.
Whoever came up with the Snickerdoodle Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich is a bad, bad person. There’s no point to a low cal dessert when you eat the whole box. I think it may be more addicting to me than a good glass of Cabernet, and coming from me, that’s saying a lot. I’m guessing either a man or a naturally thin young woman without food issues developed it.