And in that brand new, itsy-bitsy black bag is a Flip—the product of my pre-holiday squawking, “Don’t get me any presents unless it can be read, watched, or swallowed.” The Flip qualified because it creates something I can watch and it won’t require a continuing visit by the dust removal fairy.
Marie, Greta, and Twyla would have recoiled from the behavior and speech demonstrated by women like Sarah, Sharron and Michele—each of media and political acclaim
I’m one of those New Year’s Eve revelers that admit my resolutions, like diets, fade with each new month of the New Year.
If I knew during Rahm’s skinny-cute-kid days that he’d have “people” I might have been nicer to him. I liked Rahm, but I had two lovely young teenage daughters that every overly hormonal boy in Santa Fe wanted to rub up against, making my incisors instinctively flash.
When our economy turned, my wealth transformed from monetary to experience. Experience shaved expenses to just pay the bills. Some of those sheared expenses included shopping for toys and clothes for the children who don’t even have a roof where Santa’s sleigh can land;
My apologies to the gray-haired women who scurried away when they noticed my intense stares. I’m not weird, I was just checking out your hair. Now, that’s some nice gray—I could do that. Or: OMG, she looks older than the pyramids. And: What’s that? Icing on top of her head? Some of those gray heads wore the ever-popular but fashionably exhausted 1980’s wedge , while others can’t let go of that gray poodle-do. I think it was the cuts that scared me […]
Less than 15 minutes is on the clock to write this blog. I have dressing to make to stuff into a turkey’s cavity. Fortunately my secret to a perfect stuffing takes less than 5 minutes to compose. Two ingredients cap a perfect dressing: Butter and brandy. Need I say more? Ask my son-in-law. He waits all year for my stuffing. He says he dreams about his plate overflowing with stuffing scooped out from the roasted beast. Chef daughter also mimics my stuffing at […]
I tossed my Queen of Christmas crown over to my eldest daughter, our family attorney. She’s got the babies and the career, so like a good mother, I’ve let her take on the joys of bouncing holiday hoopla, family, friends and career. I say this with impunity because it’s how tradition rolls. (Why do I not hear my daughter laughing out loud?????) However, my Queen of the Roasted Turkey crown remains intact. Yes, I am the Queen of Roasted Turkeys—and chicken too. […]
When we neared the first sign of civilization along Highway 1, spouse declared, “This is great! There’s nothing here.”
“Nothing” indicated a deficiency of swank hotels, chi-chi bistros, and chic boutiques. Not a Starbucks or a Pottery Barn to be found.
Each of my core friends also has core friends who share silver and gold threads. My observation is that these are the ones who know us for who we are, for who we’ve been, and for who we shall still become. And that is an unexpected gift of maturity.
