In the spirit of the holidays, I call out to individuals 55 and over to share your wish list with Santa. Not the kind of Christmas wishes and dreams we typically hope to receive from relatives and friends.
Have your Christmas tree traditions changed over the years? Many of my friends have opted for artificial trees for ease and cost. This, at first, does make sense since they use the artificial trees year after year.
I hate to brag, but I consider myself a world-class thrifter and consignment shop guru. It’s all I can do to contain myself when a psychotherapy client tells me about their thrifting adventures – I want to trade stories of our conquests and even run up to my closet for a quick show and tell.
Early this morning, I woke up in Washington DC, where I’m going to be delivering a speech in the late afternoon. I’m sitting at my desk in the sweet early hours, my workout gear on, ready to head out to the first floor where I know the gym is located.
When my son, now in his late 30s, was about five years old, he made a remark that has stayed with me ever since. He had gone through a stage, thankfully brief, when he would pee unexpectedly, leaving a small visible stain on his trousers.
I often hear grandparents say, “I love spending time with the toddler grands but am glad to give them back to their parents at the end of the day. I’m exhausted, they have so much energy!”
Have you noticed how many ads on television promote the use of products for bladder control problems? And do you realize that nearly all of these ads are directed at women, even though many men experience bladder leakage, too?
I’ve thought long and hard about writing this post. I figure some things are best kept private – in an era where it is the norm to over-share personal information, I have always believed that you have the right to maintain some privacy.
At the beginning of the growing season, I purchased a beautiful flowering plant. It grows tall and its blooms are bright. The hot summer sun seemed to thwart its growth. I thought, “Well, that was a short blooming season.”
Some months ago, I wrote an article about aging well which garnered some intriguing responses. One woman wrote, not without some wry humor, that she had gotten encouragement because she “simply HATED being 67.”
I thought, but didn’t write back, “Well, consider the options.”