“Do not do squats!” It’s almost a mantra for me, and I don’t know why. After all, squats, deep knee bends and lunges have probably paid for both of my kids’ college and grad school educations. I should love the squat, but for years I’ve been telling my patients don’t do squats, wondering if I was alone in this opinion, and then I saw this on the internet. Orthopedic surgeon invents Crossfit to fund his children’s education! Who’da thunk it? Continue Reading
Darlings, Can you feel the excitement in the air? There’s something stirring this spring and it’s not just the birds chirping or the bees buzzing. Fashion’s biggest night out, the Met Gala, always takes place the first Monday in May, and it’s right around the corner.
It’s a red carpet fashion lovers dream come true.
I have been staring into nothingness for hours. Thoughts come and go, floating past like autumn leaves on a burbling stream.
For the first time in my life I feel vulnerable. In spite of my lifelong healthy diet, regular exercise and mindfulness… I’ve had a stroke. Two actually, but who’s counting?
I feel like you know me well enough that I can tell you this. Last night I told the “invisible man” in my house to take a hike and never come back. It sounds bizarre, I know, but when Annie and I are sitting on the sofa in the living room, she often stares intently at something on Keith’s wall. She’s not looking at Keith but at the old Spanish chair to the left of him. It’s like someone’s sitting there. Then “it/they” get up and move around the end table and stand behind me. Most of the time I blow it off, but sometimes I find myself looking where Annie’s eyes are moving, hoping to see a flying bug, but I never see anything. Last night it creeped me out.
If I’m going crazy, at least Annie’s coming with me.
One of my favorite women is someone I’ve never met in-person. Until we spoke on the phone, I’ve known Sandra Sallin only from the comments we leave on one another’s blogs and Instagram accounts. Even so, her joie de vivre and determination to live life to the fullest, regardless of what’s placed in her path, comes shining through.
“I feel the urge to do whatever adventure comes my way, now, while I can.”
Perhaps it’s because I have a big birthday coming up in June, but I find myself drawn to strong women over 70 who are still rock’n and blowin’ the house down in style. In February I went to see Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks, who’ll be 71 in May. I have a ticket to Diana Ross’s 75th Diamond Jubilee Birthday concert, and I’m going to see Cherilyn Sarkisian, the “I Got You Babe,” who will be 73 in May. It’s not like I’ve always loved them, “the way I do the Rolling Stones,” so why am I going?
Simply put… Women over 70 inspire me.
Do you remember your mom scolding you when you reached across the table for the rolls before anyone else had a chance to get one? At that time, “grabby” was as much a state-of-mind as it was an impolite reach.
When I tell patients not to be so grabby, I mean it literally. I want them to stop grabbing, because it’s wearing out their hands.
If you live long enough and travel far enough, many of the things your mother warned you about will come true. I’ve started writing my memoir, and I realize my mother couldn’t have known about most of the things I’ve encountered. While mother told me it wasn’t polite to urinate in a public pool, she didn’t tell me not to pee in the rivers of Central and South America. I didn’t do that, but a friend did, and a tiny matchstick-sized catfish swam up his urethra and anchored itself there with sharp barbs. What I learned from his misfortune was if you must pee in a river in the jungle… You’d better be wearing a tight bathing suit.
However I’ve learned, firsthand, something our mothers never knew, and most of our government and the media doesn’t want us to know.
It seems that even the Universe has adopted this modern business method. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, please note that I’m using poop instead of its ruder big brother. The alliteration isn’t as powerful, but it’s more palatable. Continue Reading