Happy Groundhogs Day. The stupid rodent saw his shadow. Six more weeks of winter. Of course, last year he DIDN’T see it and we had one of the nastiest early springs on record. Basically, if he sees his shadow, we get six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, about a month and a half. I’ve completed four weeks of the Buzz Your Book workshop . Two to go. I would highly recommend this course to anyone with a book coming out, but be prepared to spend the time to do the assignments and to WORK. Otherwise, you’re wasting your money. I’m getting my money’s worth, but I’ve sacrificed my writing in order to do the assignments. You’ve been warned. On Tuesday, I took my mom to see her surgeon for another post-op and he graduated her from her walker to a cane. It was an exciting day. The even bigger occasion for her was Thursday when she ran the vacuum for the first time since before her surgery. I’ve never seen anyone so giddy over cleaning house. But that’s my mom. The tidy gene skipped my genera...

Have I mentioned lately that I am ready for life to slow down? What I wouldn’t give to know what “boredom” means. Monday, I had my regular appointment with my dermatologist. Being fair skinned and of the generation before all the hype about sunblocks, I have had my share of sunburns. Now I’ve reached an age where they are coming back to haunt me. My freckles have turned to age spots (I hate that term). It seems every time I show the doctor a freckle or mole that I think might be something , it’s actually nothing and those that I expect to be nothing turn out to be something . That was the case Monday when I had to have pre-cancerous sun spot frozen. On my nose. Dead center on my face. In case you don’t know, when they freeze one of these things, you’re left with a nasty red welt for a couple weeks. Dead center on my face. I’m thinking of getting a black pointy hat and just pretending to be in a Halloween witch’s costume for a while. I’ve got the wart on the nose thing taken care of. ...

I must be getting old. Certain things bug me that didn’t use to. And certain things that use to bug me no longer do. What set me on this particular train of thought was something that happened today in the parking lot at the grocery store. I had returned my cart to the little cart corral and was walking back to my car. A nice looking young guy was backing his shiny new Cadillac out of his parking space toward me and I stopped so he wouldn’t have to be concerned about hitting me. Okay, maybe I was the one who was concerned, even though he had plenty of room. But he braked and smiled at me and said, “Go ahead, babe.” Babe . Not ma’am . Babe . I shot him my best killer smile and gave him an enthusiastic “Thank you!” What he didn’t realize is I wasn’t thanking him for being polite and letting me continue on my way. I was thanking him for calling me BABE. Is that sad, or what? There was a time when my feminist ethics would have caused me to bristle at such a thing. Now, it totally makes my ...