In Camelot they loved the merry month of May. But here in Tucson we frolic in the month of February. Snow, wind and ice are strangers here — at least so far this year. Instead, we have the sun in the morning and the moon and stars at night.
Deciding to throw myself a birthday party at the Chantilly Tea Room turned out to be an excellent idea. People have been so kind to me since I moved here three years ago that I wanted to show them how much I appreciate each friend’s special meaning to me.
Recently I came across a quote by Aldous Huxley: “Experience is not what happens to you, it’s what you do with what happens to you.” This struck me as being true.
As my birthday approaches, I note another year has gone by. Not only do I miss the energy of my youth, I long for high heels, dancing the night away and the pleasures of being young and beautiful.
Once upon a time there were three little girls growing up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. All through school, Sandra, Carol and I hung out together, laughing, exploring the city and getting into mischief.
A few nights ago I dreamed the same scenario over and over again. I’d wake up, go back to sleep and dream I won a major bridge tournament. This occurred about six or seven times. Facing the day in the early morning, I was ecstatic to think I’d won.
The other day I had lunch with Jane Peterson of Oro Valley Library fame. Sharing book titles stimulates us, as reading has been and remains a major part of our lives.
Christmas has turned from a “what’s in it for me” experience to a giving experience. For the past several years, my gratification has come from finding meaningful gifts for friends, no longer contemplating what treasures will be bestowed upon me.
January marks three years that I’ve lived in Oro Valley. Getting used to the Tucson area was difficult. Ten years ago, I left Los Angeles for Albuquerque mainly because I had a terrible car accident that caused a great fear of driving, particularly on freeways.
Actually, years mean nothing. It’s what’s inside them.
A remarkable, sensitive writer, Simon Von Booy, has been added to my favorite authors’ list. A line in one of his short stories moved me to tears:
About a year and a half ago I went on a book-signing tour. Knowing I’d be in airports, I bought myself a smartphone, which I quickly nicknamed “not-so,” short for not-so-smart-phone. One of the reasons I bought the phone was a device called the Square, which you are supposed to be able to at…
The event that Americans commonly call “the first Thanksgiving” was celebrated by the Pilgrims after their first harvest in the New World in 1621. This feast lasted three days, and was attended by about 53 Pilgrims and 90 American Indians, though sources vary on these numbers.
Once in a while everything comes together perfectly. Not only is a dream realized but the facts exceed the expectation in ways one could never anticipate. That’s what happened to me the afternoon of Nov. 10 at the Oro Valley Library.
There’s a part in “Auntie Mame” — a book that was turned into a Broadway musical and a film — where the main character says, “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.”
Two years ago I began facilitating a writers’ workshop at the Oro Valley Library. The first meeting brought two students.
Not often does a book bring tears to my eyes, but “The Postmistress” by Sarah Blake had that effect. The book started off slowly. Since a trusted friend recommended it, I kept reading.
This is the time of year I think about Albuquerque. More than 20 years have passed since the first time I attended the Albuquerque Hot Air Balloon Fiesta.
A friend told me he hoped to go on a safari before he died.
A couple of weeks ago I asked my tech guru, Corey, to come to my home because I thought my computer had a virus. I also wanted to move a few of my much-played games to where I could access them more easily.