(With no apologies whatsoever to “The Death of the Moth”) Oh that Virgina Woolf. Such a sentimental softie. There she is in a room of her own, sitting at her writing desk but obviously procrastinating…
My 65th birthday is barreling down on me. My Medicare Card already takes up space in my wallet, and it will be effective in a matter of days. The approach of this milestone moment makes…
I like to play the piano. I hate having to play the piano. This condition has existed for nearly 60 years, so I doubt it’s going to clear up. Early symptoms appeared when I was…
First it was my Appigo ToDo app. An update check brought me the dire message: ToDo’s newest version refused to stoop to my iPhone’s antiquated operating system. If I chose to continue to live in…
Not long ago an envelope appeared in our mailbox from a realtor. It was addressed by hand — really by hand, not “by hand” by machine. The writer identified herself as a local agent working…
I had just gotten back to sleep after my usual late night walk-about when my cell phone rang. My left armed flailed to the bedside table and, half awake, I’m thinking it’s awfully late…
I recently read that Gertrude Stein was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania. Yes, that Gertrude Stein. Poet of Paris salon fame, hostess to Hemingway and Fitzgerald, author of The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook beloved by beatniks…
“My kingdom for a horse!” cried Richard III. I had no kingdom, but when I was a young girl I certainly cried a lot for a horse. Cried. Coaxed. Cajoled. I begged Santa for a…
Nothing forces upon me more acutely the awareness of the swift passage of time, the fleet pace of days and weeks as they fly off the calendar as though in a 1940’s newsreel, than cleaning…
During the summer, my husband Jon and I go to our local swim club on Sunday mornings to do some laps. We aim for 10:30, when the gates open. That guarantees we won’t have to…
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