I’m grateful for toilet tissue
Where would we be today without cushiony, perforated tissue (disregarding arguments about which way it should be placed on the holder)?
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Widowhood: Free to be a sports fan again
So, I join thousands, perhaps millions, of newly rabid fans in World Series excitement and pride.
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New chapter continues: Letting go of symbols and possessions
Finally, I admitted there was no way to drive two vehicles at once, continue making two payments or hold on to a truck just for snow days.
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Mundane memories and the first solo road trip
In this new state of being a distracted and forgetful widow, there are still significant milestones to mark the journey to healing.
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Widow Journal Part II: Knowing when to ask for help
Finally admitting I could qualify as a helpless widow, I called my brother-in-law to ask for help from my nephews, knowing my son would not appreciate driving 45 minutes one way to put a 48″ light tube in a stupid socket.
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The Widow Journal: Helpful Tips for Surviving the Death of a Spouse
Monday marked four weeks since my husband died in a local hospital. His death finally ended the suffering brought on by multi-system ailments–one of those cases where an exit brings a kind of blessed relief, calling to mind the trite saying, “Well, at least he’s not suffering any more.” Suffering is for survivors. And so
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Why our grandchildren are the best, the brightest
Yesterday I opened the dusty file cabinet of my memories to search for lullabies. As my ten-month-old grandson rubbed his eyes in a clear signal that he had reached his current limit of exploring the world of his living room . . . as he tired of playing with the doorstop, of trying to reach
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We’re in the middle of a coffee conundrum
If we were to subject our visitors to a modern form of torture by forcing them to endure a tour of our basement storage shelves, the astute observer would immediately diagnose a bad case of java jeopardy in our house. The malady is apparent from the different models of coffee makers now relegated to a future of dust
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OW or OG (Older Workers or Old Geezers): The country still needs us
Upon attaining Medicare and Social Security age, we are immediately (if not previously) relegated to the trash can status of societal leech and entitlement hog. Accused by younger types of the impending collapse of the country’s economy by how we will soon overwhelm the system, the logical, if unspoken choice would be to slit our
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Retirement holidays: Practical antiques and diminished expectations
When you’re retired, holiday decorating takes on a new, stress-free flavor. Some might call this the Grinch mode.
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