I’m not one to sulk and wallow in my own misery. So I switched to my 300 mm lens. Some interesting activity up the beach caught my eye. I zoomed in on the scene. Suddenly I forgot about my morning conversation with my physician. A pod of brown pelicans — maybe close to a hundred, the males in their colorful mating plumage, and the females seemingly enjoying the attention, beckoned Oly and I to get a little closer.
Honestly, I do not like wearing a mask. It’s not comfortable, I feel like others don’t know if I’m smiling when I speak or not. I can’t see the mouth expressions of others wearing a mask. And it just plain muffles me.
It’s a December day when still cloaked in your flannel pajamas you linger over a hot cup of coffee and peruse your old Christmas decorating and recipe idea books.
When faced with an unpleasant reality, like being told I have an incurable rare cancer, I first take 10 deep breaths. But […]
Yes, cancer changes everything. Things I did two years ago are not even possible now. Is this a worse-case scenario? Yes and no. Yes because I love to cook, hike, and explore the world around me. I can’t do that right now. No because I’ve an opportunity to learn new ways and new perspectives.
The trend to express gratitude is the antithesis to domineering negative behavior. Once we begin to seek grace in the tiniest elements surrounding us, joy takes hold of the heart. I’d rather awaken with joy in my heart than awaken with contrariness because my world is not how I believe it should be. My world is how I choose to make it.
And life’s serendipitous imp flew with me from the California coast to our landing in the Sonoran Desert last October. The objective was to physically heal. I’ve spent the last four months among saguaros, palo verde trees, wild coreopsis blooming next to chaparral and creosote shrubs. The massive structure of the Mayo Clinic outlines the horizon to the east. Westerly is the opened desert where coyotes and rabbits play hide and seek, and concludes my days in neon orange and purple sunsets.
Like a reflection in a desert puddle after the rain, life’s abstract moments challenge my view, troubles my heart. Desert air reeks […]
Despite the endless coffee stain, it was the magic of family and friends that kept 2018’s light burning. So this is a thank you to a long list of kind people who have made a difference during my personally challenged moments.
After Grau busted through the glass ceiling at the LA Times, rising from classified sales to outside sales and then into management, she left the weight of her career behind in retirement. Not one to atrophy in retirement, Grau embraced weight training. And it shows. This 76-year-old woman is fit and has those kind of arms that flatter sleeveless shirts.