Who do you dress for?

Who do you dress for?

My husband once asked me, “Who do you dress for, PJ?” The question startled me. Not because it came from a man, let alone my happily-married one who happens to be my longtime beau, but because I’d never considered it. On reflection, I knew I dressed...
Better than Sex Cake

Better than Sex Cake

It was the ‘80s. The era of big hair, big shoulder pads, and big appetites. Disco fever raged on dance floors lighted by a mirrored ball overhead. Sweat flavored the manic gyrations of those in quest of a mate. Greed was espoused—lauded by Gordon Gekko—until Tom...
You’re Never Too Old…

You’re Never Too Old…

So, due to a recent birthday, I’ve become geriatric. No, I’m not a Jurassic Park dinosaur – at least not culturally – but I do have ancient bones, body aches and pains. I’ve a long-time yoga, physical therapy, and massage devotee. This...

Air Force Amy and the Fat Farm

So you read about the sudden passage of my office mate, posted on May 28. This here is an addendum of pornographic quality… Are you hooked yet? My office mate died in January 2004, suddenly, harshly, and in a compressed time frame. Not only was I grieving and...
Karla, the queen of smart ass

Karla, the queen of smart ass

A few weeks ago we were in London town, and a few days ago I wrote about watching the Royals parade, a once yearly extravaganza of pomp, posh, and the circumstance of opening the English Parliament. A jolly good show, much better than the State of the Union. The day,...
Time Capsule

Time Capsule

In December 1986 I assembled a time capsule to hastily insert in an extra concrete pour necessitated by our pool contractor’s incorrectly-placed layout. It seemed that the entrance steps into the sports pool were harrowingly near our home’s sliding door....