My favorite fall sweater had several loose threads when I packed it away last spring, but I wasn’t ready to consider throwing it away. A few days ago, it wasn’t even out of the storage box when I started twirling and tucking the loose threads, thinking I could magically reattach them.
Discarding things has never been easy for me. It’s not that I’m a hoarder. I’m a fixer. A serial fixer. There… I said it out loud. Moving on from people hasn’t been easy either.
Recently I heard a young woman say dating is obsolete. “Really?” I asked, to which she replied, “No one has time for that silliness anymore.”
Fourteen years ago I left an abusive relationship with the clothes on my back and no shoes on my feet. I was done with love and my dreams of that knight in shining armor riding in to save me was history. I was too old for fairytales. Continue Reading
My granddaughter is 17-years-old and a new, high school senior. Just a few years ago she was teased and came home from school sobbing. I couldn’t help but wonder where fifth-grade little girls learned to be so mean, and if those same girls are as cruel, now that they’re nearly adults?
Irena Sendler who saved thousands of Jewish children
While passing through an airport security check, actress Ashley Judd had a major meltdown. At fault was a screener who called her “sweetheart” and complimented her dress. She branded his comments “everyday sexism.”
This got me thinking about the women who came before us.
Once when I woke from a sound sleep to use the bathroom, I wiped and felt something that didn’t belong there. It felt like I had a tumor. Seven specialists, seven months and seven days in the hospital later, I was diagnosed with pelvic congestion syndrome, caused by hard-to-detect varicose veins in the pelvis. Continue Reading
Recently I attended an event for the purpose of networking with attendees from three, different, women’s entrepreneur groups. It was at a coffee shop in the city and started at 7:30 a.m.
I’m still not sure what enticed me out of my suburban comfort zone at that hour. I am not a morning person. Continue Reading
April’s baby was not the first giraffe born in captivity, and there was nothing exceptional about the event other than thousands witnessed the birth via social media.
What was it about that giraffe and her baby that drew people in and had them incessantly checking notifications on their phones?
As my sixth decade approaches I find myself obsessed with the preserving of memories. Especially the memories of loved ones that have passed before me. It’s been important for me to document our lives for those we’ll eventually leave behind. Not only our personal information, but our first-hand-accounts of historical events and how we reacted to them.
Eighteen-years-ago my brother was murdered. He was 26.