Ellen hunched over the saddle like Quasimodo, hanging on, for dear life, to the saddle horn with one hand and the back of the saddle with the other, as Toni (her horse) trotted rapidly to keep up with the front of the herd…
Yesterday morning this landed in my inbox from Margaret Manning:
Downsizing (and simplification, more generally) has been a passion of mine over the last several years. And, one of the things that I have discovered through this process is that downsizing isn’t so much about letting go of “stuff” as it is letting go of emotions, memories and psychological barriers to change. So, let’s talk about how to get ready for downsizing at any age. Have you already gone through the process of downsizing your home? Or, are you thinking about doing this in the years to come?
Last year, I was in Santa Fe, New Mexico, at a youth hostel. Tucked away upstairs, in my own spare private room, I pondered this past year.
Reading today’s title, you might want to throw your wine glass at me, but I assure you, there’s a method to my madness. I found it while considering a speech that many of us have heard, or read, from Nelson Mandela…
No matter how old we are, it’s always exciting to have something to look forward to. Working, enjoying retirement, or a little of both. Anticipation is a lovely thing. Every year, I set major goals…
I copied and pasted the scammer’s message into the white block for reporting fake profiles. This was the eighth this week. The copy is almost always identical too, and goes like this: [Some guy] has found the love of his life…
“How do you identify the barnacles and how do you strip them off?” A kind reader posed this question at the bottom of a recent article of mine on Sixty and Me. I was writing about my friend Terri Ducay…
It can get old hearing exhortation after exhortation about exercising. In fact, it’s almost as exhausting reading or hearing about it as doing it. After all, isn’t it just too late at this point?
A recent New York Times article argues that the statistics of violence done to female solo travelers are scary. Women traveling on their own, and there are vastly more of us of all ages now than ever before, are subject to all manner of dangers. We disappear, we get attacked, we die a brutal death.
“Oh my gosh, you are so lucky. I wish I could do that.”
Terri Ducay smiles. I can hear it in her voice. We’re on the phone, talking about her life.