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Susan Lucci and Me

Recently, while spending several hours in a hospital waiting room and having sped through the one book I’d brought, I furtively gathered as many germ-infested magazines I could before all the other bored and anxious inhabitants of the freezing, ‘We’re not even going to bother putting art on the wall here’ room could take the booty themselves. All of those coveted publications, by the way, are ones I wouldn’t pay a dime for in an airport shop.  No matter. It was like that stack of slick covered papers were a pile of Snickers bars and I didn’t know any better…

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What’s this World Coming To?

I thought the situation was dire, what with the wall, shutdown and He Who Shall Not Be Named in charge of it all. Then, the Australian accent happened. I don’t think I can take it anymore. I don’t watch The Bachelor, but apparently there’s a female candidate on the show who has faked an Australian accent because she thought it would improve her chances to win the love and devotion of someone with whom she’s had ten false interactions.  All this while being observed by millions of people. The concept of the show has always perplexed me. It’s hard enough…

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What do you do with an off-kilter day?

When the assistance desk keeps you on hold for thirty-five minutes and you hang up after leaving your callback number but really don’t want to talk to them anymore anyway. When that fourth in doubles puts the whole rhythm off. When someone drops by that you’d rather say, “No thanks, not today” to but you smile, thinly. When the news has some purple mixed in with all that black and grey and grim. So. You take a long bath, but of course the hot water runs out too soon. You hide under the covers and try for a nap, but…

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CRANKY ALEXA

Every morning I wake up, walk down the hall to the kitchen, turn on the tea water, sit down in the little adjacent room and say “Alexa, set the timer for ten minutes.” She then repeats, “Ten minutes.” I proceed to meditate. Then, she rings a little bell and I respond with, Alexa, stop.” She follows my directive and I return to the kitchen, reheat the water which isn’t hot anymore, (I can’t explain the logic – just go with me) and begin my day, all the better for meditating before any other activity. This morning, following my routine, after…

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I Like Your Dress

The other day I was wearing an unusual sundress.  Unusual because it didn’t come from Goodwill, wasn’t made of sweat pants material and actually had some style.  It was a 90-degree day, and me and my little dress were feeling cool and kind of cute, which means I wasn’t wearing Goodwill sweatpants and un-matching top.  Shopping for this and that at TJ Maxx, my upscale, (relatively), ‘go-to’ for anything brand-new that will last a whole season, (I know, I know, there’s another school of thought about all this, but where’s the fun of buy one good piece I’ll have forever…

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Whistle

Great. Now I can’t whistle. There are very few things I can’t do now that I could do when I was twenty. I am a very slow runner now, but I was at twenty. I’m a better tennis player now than forty years ago. I’m slightly wiser, perhaps kinder, and I know how to navigate airports in foreign countries, stand up for myself most of the time, and put on a much better dinner party. When I was twenty, I couldn’t read any faster than I do at nearly seventy. I’m a more experienced and seasoned driver and can figure…

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