Our first Christmas in Charlottesville, and our adult kids and their significant others were celebrating in other places with other people.
The morning began with a twinge of melancholy for the exuberance of Christmas past. It would be a quiet day, just the two of us, for the most part. We had no plans other than seeing a movie. It seemed like it was shaping up to be like any other day—and that made me sad.
It happened one chilly April morning. I found myself locked out of our new home with no spare key hidden under any fake rock. I was a total unwashed mess, underdressed in a thin T-shirt, wearing rainboots, and supposed to let my new cleaning lady into my house in just a short while. Continue reading
Last November, my sister and I distracted ourselves while waiting for good news on our mom’s hip replacement surgery. Her surgery went so well that we did not get as far down our scavenger photo list as we did when similar shenanigans entertained us years ago. We did it just so we would not go crazy with all the waiting. (You can see some of our “waiting game” pics below and at the gallery sidebar titled “While We Were Waiting”) Continue reading
I have barely slept these past 6 nights; I gave up my OTC sleep aids last week after hearing from my Physicians Assistant that the active ingredient, the same as what’s in a common allergy pill, may be linked with dementia. I’m not usually over-reactive to such news, after all, those studies are often unreliable. Then I had a very senior moment and my decision was made.
Several things occurred to me during the many many hours of sleeplessness:
My husband appropriately calls himself “The Spotter.” Wherever we travel, he looks around, helpfully pointing out the *unusual, whimsical, interesting or sweet — then I point my camera and record it. He endures vacations and local outings which often consist of hours of wandering on foot, my camera at the ready. I shuffle a few steps forward, then come to a sudden halt. I point, shoot and start up again; by his count, the most consecutive steps I take — before I inevitably stop again — is five.
It’s true, the “look of love is in your eyes.” From the lingering gooey gaze signaling the smitten, to the affectionate study of their “person” by a much-loved canine, eye contact conveys, “you are noticed, you are special, you are loved.” But when there is very little eye contact from other human beings, we feel ignored, unimportant, unworthy. Continue reading
Back in high school, I saw the blockbuster summer thriller, Jaws. I have never been the same. Summer camp on Lake Saranac revealed my irking irrational fear that some crazed person had caught and released a shark into the lake to wreak havoc on us unsuspecting campers.