From "Girlfriends of a Certain Age," ©Ramborella LLC
A lot of people ask me how I decided to start 1010ParkPlace. For over 10 years I was focused on my breast cancer, my subsequent Top Breast Cancer Blog and the unexpected death of my husband. Not surprisingly there came a time when I didn’t want to write about cancer anymore. During a conversation with a friend, he asked what I really wanted to do with my life? My answer came tumbling out.
“I want to connect with women about more than cancer.”
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
It’s every woman’s lament at one point or another. But this time, it’s not about my clothes, and it’s true. I feel a little bit ridiculous. No… a lot ridiculous, ever thinking we were in good shape. Over thinking I had everything under control, over how many trips I took to the thrift store. I’ve decided the thrift store visits were my philanthropy for this year. And even after all of the prep work, I’m shocked at how much stuff we still have that has no place to live. Our coach looks like something from the television show “Hoarders.”
To use one of George W. Bush’s best words, “I think we have sorely misunderestimated how much stuff we could bring!”
After last week’s blog about my first date since my husband died, women emailed me about their online dating experiences. One woman was waiting at the restaurant but instead of showing up, her date texted her a photo of his penis. Another guy needed to borrow money to pay off his soon-to-be ex-wife. Another loser tried to feel her up in the restaurant after they’d just met. It sounds as though a lot of men look at online dating like it’s an escort service.
Guys… Working little brains are great things, but may I suggest some of you buy a life-size sex doll and stay home?
When I stand in the checkout line at my grocery store, I scan the 46 varieties of high cocoa chocolate bars, finally settling on the sea salt, habanero pepper version to toss in my cart. Followed by, “Oh shit, I forgot my grocery bags.” Again. Cue the cashier: “Did you bring your bags?” Followed by me mumbling no, I forgot. Followed by the stink eye from the cashier.
You can tell a lot about people from the bags they use to tote their groceries home. Continue Reading
Did I tell you I had my first date since James died? I met him at a bus stop. LOL! Weird, right? It was almost midnight, and I was waiting for the airport shuttle to take me to my car. I’d been to New York where I was in a commercial, and he was returning from surfing in Costa Rica. He was about my age, tall and nice looking. We struck up a conversation. He has a house in Costa Rica and goes once a month to surf. I also learned where he went to high school.
Can you believe I gave him my phone number?
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?
In between the packed and stacked boxes, the work piled on both of our desks, and the boxes yet-to-be-packed–only 3 weeks to the move–things are messy. I pause and survey my kingdom. It’s disorganized, and I am dismayed, but I also have faith in Nietzsche’s saying, “Out of chaos comes order.” Continue Reading
Used throughout Europe as a way to cleanse the palate between courses, intermezzos are usually a light and refreshing treat. Today was my Intermezzo. I took a much needed break from sorting what to keep, what to let go of, what to sell, and doing the work to get it where it will be seen–and bought–by someone who will enjoy it. A break from separating my emotions from my “things,” be it clothing, a stereo cabinet, or a set of martini glasses.
A dear friend invited me to meet him for lunch at a chic little French restaurant. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt for abandoning my post… then, like any sane woman would, I gladly accepted!