“I love coffee, I love tea. I love the boys, and the boys love me.” I chanted that silly jump-rope jingle hundreds of times on the Oak Knoll Playground, certain that I’d never acquire a taste for either coffee or tea. Little did I know…

I’ve always loved dogs, but allergies in the household kept me from having one. After a painful divorce 18 years ago, I decided to buy a little non-shedding poodle/terrier. On the way home from the pet store I tried out a raft of names…

Arthritis literally means joint inflammation, and it refers to a group of more than a hundred rheumatic diseases that cause pain, stiffness, and swelling in the joints. There are two major types of arthritis: osteoarthritis…

At a gathering with women friends, our discussion ran to the unglamorous topic of feet. You know, this little piggie and all that. I had to chuckle as we raved about the comfort of our less-than-fashionable footwear. Read More

I admit it – I’m hooked. Not generally a greedy person, when I’m faced with bushes of free berries, I go nuts. Ballistic. I can’t stop myself. Not only that, but I can’t pass the berry display in the grocery store without nabbing at least a few…

I have a new puppy, and little Sally is keeping me on my toes. Libby, my small poodle/terrier, was a stellar companion for 17 years – my kayak buddy, canoe tripper, and enthusiastic hiker. When I swam down the lake…

My husband and I are coping well as we stay at home during the pandemic. We’re actually enjoying this break from our usual busy schedules, starting each day with a morning walk with a few neighbors…

Last week, my reading group discussed Overstory, a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about connections between people and trees. Author Richard Powers, a gifted writer…

“Thin behavior” has fascinated me for years. I just don’t get it. I don’t mean the kind of behavior where skinny kids squeezed through fence slats in the alley, or where my teenaged friends stretched thin, nubile bodies on the beach at Shady Oak Lake as I huddled on my towel. Read More

I’m mourning my beloved sixth grade teacher, Mr. Ryshavy. In 1960, he was a young, creative, and caring instructor, and every single member of our class adored him…