For as long as I can remember, I’ve had neck and back pain. Some days it’s one or the other, some days both. Occasionally it can be debilitating, but more often than not, it’s just annoying, the kind of pain that holds you back from being or participating fully in life. I think the genesis of my back pain was from a really bad crash when I was ski racing in high school. The spine is a delicate creature, and one good twang can create a lifetime of annoying symptoms. There were other minor incidents over the years, but the coup de grace came about 25 years ago: I had a run-in with a bad cup of clam chowder that landed me in the hospital for four days with food poisoning. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say I don’t eat clam chowder anymore, and the strain on my body ruptured a disc in my lower back.
Image courtesy of Luxepose.com
I’ve become obsessed with tiny houses lately. Tiny as in less than 300 square feet. I’ve lived in studio apartments that were bigger than that, but for some reason, the allure of a tiny house is growing. They seem so efficient and orderly, the kind of zen-like nook you can seek refuge in – whether that refuge is from your demanding and time-sucking family, or a zombie apocalypse. Continue Reading
I used to work in a sales office where framed prints of inspirational quotes and majestic photographs were hung along the corridor walls: “Storms Make Oaks Take Roots,” “They Can Because They Think They Can,” “Determination Is The Wake Up Call To The Human Will” and so forth. I’m sure the Regional Director hung them as a not so subtle kick in the ass as he sent us out the door to close a deal, but even when I glazed over, staring at them from my office door, they continued to have a subliminal effect on me. Continue Reading
Last week while dropping off my daughter at a friend’s house, we drove through the neighborhood where I was raised. Making a detour, we turned onto the familiar road, and I immediately noticed a For Sale sign in front of my old house. My parents had sold the house 28 years ago when my father retired and had moved full-time to what was then their vacation home. I’d not been in the house since a few days before the movers arrived to pack everything up, but to this day I have vivid dreams about the beautiful stone house. Continue Reading
Last night I slept 14 hours. It’s now late afternoon, and I just awoke from a three-hour nap. I still feel like I could crawl into bed and crank out another eight or nine hours of deep REM before facing another day. No, I don’t have the flu, or narcolepsy, or a colossal hangover, but I have been serving as mother/hostess to a bevy of late teens and 20-somethings over a V-E-R-Y L-O-N-G holiday weekend. Continue Reading
In a few weeks I will complete my seventh real estate transaction in as many years. I’m not a realtor, nor do I play one on TV. I have just found myself on the buying and selling end of things for a concentrated period of time. Since my first marriage in 1988, I’ve had 12 different mailing addresses. Add to the mix three additional properties that fell under my jurisdiction–and 15 moves–I’d say this qualifies me as something of an expert. I can can purge, toss, pack, move, and store with the best of them. I have sustained more physical (and emotional) paper-cuts in 10 years than most people do in a lifetime. I’ve also developed a keen eye when it comes to on-line real estate listings.
While in the market for the house that soon shall become home, I realized shopping for real estate these days is very much like dating… particularly on-line dating.
Recently I was speaking with the realtor who has the listing for selling my family home. It’s been several years since my parents passed away, but I have clung to the house like a lifeline in a turbulent sea. Going over a few administrative details, we discussed what to do about exterior maintenance in the coming months. She suggested I remove a few pieces of outdoor paraphernalia that had remained behind after I moved out the furniture and interior belongings. ”You want to give the impression that you are done with the house” she said to me. Continue Reading
The morning of my 40th birthday started with a bang, literally. The mother of a nine, six and four-year-old, mornings were frenzied and a race against the clock. Get everyone up; walk the dogs; make breakfast; get washed and dressed for school, eat, pack, sign permission slips, and arrive at the school bus stop with minutes to spare for a 7:35 am pickup. On that morning 10+ years ago, I was in full swing, barking orders, grabbing backpacks, checking for wet toothbrushes, one eye on the clock, my mind anything but calm and focused. So it was really no surprise when I bundled everyone in the car, clicked open the garage door, yanked my car into reverse and proceeded to back into my mother’s car, shearing off the front fender and causing a fair amount of damage to my own car. Continue Reading
I was in a yoga class recently, standing behind a woman I will describe as a professional body. Everything about her appearance was perfect: not a hair out of place, nor a muscle that hadn’t been trained to perform at its absolute peak; no sign of cellulite, flab, or gravity. She exuded a kind of energy that made her springy and bendy, and I envied the body she’d been able to create through what I imagine has been a relentless dedication to her exercise and diet regimen. Continue Reading