It’s always a trip, literally and figuratively, to visit my adult kids in California. When we’re together, our conversations gravitate to the “remember whens.” Our individual recollections vacillate widely: joyful, hilarious or downright sad. This visit, we reminisced about “Christmas past” — a season we shared in another time and place, a lifetime ago. READ
I’m a people watcher, but hold on: I don’t peek through windows or engage in stalking or gawking, nothing creepy like that. Wherever or whatever I’m doing, I usually find something that sparks my interest.
Growing up, one of Mom’s famous “Mom-isms” was “Celia! Act your age.” Jeez! How I hated those words. Now that I am a gal of a certain age, I get ticked off when some 30-something magazine editor tells me to dress age appropriately — in other words, “ to act my age.”
One Friday morning before heading to work, I decided to vacuum the house — bad decision. My house was neat and clean, but I was expecting company that evening. READ
It was like a slow-moving storm that began creeping around my consciousness the week before Mother’s Day. I felt irritable, tired and was probably a tad b—– (it rhymes with “witchy”). I’m usually in tune with my emotions, but this time I was stymied.
I was chatting long-distance with a gal-pal who moved out of state after her husband died. She is currently dating the “man of her dreams” and quite intoxicated with endorphins, serotonin and dopamine, aka the feel-good hormones. READ
For the first time in my life (yes, it’s possible), I decided to take a winter vacation in Florida. I know the “snow birds” do it regularly. But as for me, and as weird as it sounds, I don’t mind the winter months. READ
They say every picture tells a story. Last month, I flew to California to attend my son Jeff’s marriage to the lovely Cassandra. Before the wedding, the bride and groom assembled a beautiful photo display portraying their lives so far. READ