We live on a private lake, in a neighborhood governed by a homeowners’ association. There are rules here, and the residents are expected to follow them. For the most part, it works pretty well. Once in awhile, we catch someone who doesn’t live here fishing, or using a dumpster to dispose of their trash. If… Continue reading Not In My Back Yard
When we moved five years ago and I retired, I understood that my cooking style would need to change. One of my favorite things to do in Pittsburgh was to enjoy the vast array of foods available. We ate out frequently, sometimes as often as three times a week. And then there was the Strip… Continue reading It Doesn’t Get Any Better
I spend a lot of energy being afraid. I have always been a “worrier”, indeed, as an adult anxiety is probably the emotion with which I am most familiar. My worries can range from the very unimportant (what should I prepare for our meal?) to fear over catastrophic events (what if my husband has a… Continue reading It’s out of control
I think one of the more interesting things about minimizing is what to do with the items I come across that reflect the “fantasy me”. Coming to terms with the things I had hoped to do one day, but realize will probably not happen. A quilt pattern I had hoped to make for my then… Continue reading Lightening Up
Something I struggle with is the strong correlation between the weather and my mood. As the weather gets increasingly dark, so does my mood. The past week or so has been cloudy and rainy each day, and despite strong efforts to the contrary, I feel my mood sinking down. It isn’t going to get better… Continue reading Darkness
Part of the aging process, unfortunately, often includes the death of our parents. This is a real challenge for most of us, and doing so with grace can seem impossible. I’m sure that my way of dealing with my parents’ deaths could have been much more graceful. And I am also certain that I am… Continue reading And So Is Hers. . .
My father was my hero. He and I had that special connection that fathers and daughters sometimes have. He could tell I was getting a cold before I ever felt it, and he could sense when someone hurt my feelings. When I still lived at home, he would go to our local dairy and get… Continue reading His Life Is Worth Writing About