Just when you feel that your life may be on track, fate, the gods, or happenstance steps in front of you and waves its fat, jiggly arms.
I am surrounded by widows.
Not in the metaphorical sense or by friends or family, but physically in my neighborhood.
Who among you likes to take down and put away holiday decorations? I didn’t think so.
I had thought the second Christmas of widowhood would be easier, but I was dead wrong. Continue reading “Dead batteries”
According to Wicca philosophy, “the power of the moon cannot be overstated.”
Now, before you think I’m getting all “woo-woo,” I wanted to lead with that thought as it relates to a recent excursion I had with some friends when we attended a Moon Group led by a Wiccan High Priestess.
When I turned 50, I told my husband I wanted to commemorate hitting the half century mark by either getting a tattoo or a motorcycle.
In the South, you don’t go grocery shopping; you go “tradin’.”
And those four-wheeled caged contraptions you push up and down the aisles to transport your goods out to the car are not shopping carts, they’re called “buggies.”