Time is our enemyAny individual over say 50 will tell you that time goes by faster and faster as you age.I am not sure why we perceive time in such a different way, as we age. But we do.We notice things more. We notice the way the sun gleams through our office windows, even as it has to slip through last year's smudges and dirty trails of rain, still clinging to the window, like  yesterday's blurry reminder that our eyes don't work as well as they used to. We notice the way traffic sounds different at certain hours of the day; a hurry-hurry of the tires of so many cars passing down the hill on their way to work; or the slow hum they make on their way home. We notice the way the morning seems to slip by unnoticed, because we get busy cleaning, or working in the garden, or writing a blog post, and suddenly it's afternoon, and the day is almost over.We notice these things because we lament over all the necessary things we have to do, want to do, will never get to do - now. Now that we're officially, according to statistics, old. Read more →


The life I am living now is a muted mural painted on a large wall, somewhere in the Universe. I have lived a thousand lives and will live a thousand more, no doubt. It isn't that I believe in reincarnation, although that option makes more sense to me than many... Read more →


Hands fascinate me. I can remember TV commercials when I was 40 talking about hands. About dish washing soap that kept your hands looking young, even if you were 35 or older. The concept of 35 being old astonished me. But, we're a youth society, aren't we? And, as we... Read more →


My Mom ... circa 1953? Somehow, this weekend, I was half-asleep, listening in the dark for the dog (when I hear her collar jingle I wait to see if she's coming to the bedroom door to give it a scratch, indicating she wants out), when a vivid memory hit my... Read more →


"Just dance," she said. Her voice was full of laughter. Happy laughter. She wasn't judging. She was advising. I watched her slip onto the dance floor and throw her long blonde hair back, and thrust her body into the movement, keeping time with the band, waving her arms about, full... Read more →


How was it possible that the efforts of the 1960s evaporated into the stratosphere? That the women who were not going to accept second class status, were now working in offices and restaurants, and other places...still being asked to get their male boss coffee? How was it possible that we were actually...getting the coffee - keeping a tradition that demeans us, alive?  Read more →


The hand that rocks the cradle, so it's been told, rules the world. How true is this? Can women demand and command the kind of attention men get as a matter of fact? We can and we do. We can and we have. We can and we will. History shows... Read more →