Trying something new — yes, at your age — and venison Stroganoff

After I committed to spending five-six days a week at the Y at the end of last summer, people want to know if I feel just fabulous. No, but I don’t feel as bad, and at 72-1/2, that’s probably the same thing. My knees no longer hurt 24/7. I can hike briskly across a big… Continue reading Trying something new — yes, at your age — and venison Stroganoff

#101 days a gym rat

I’m finally learning how to use Instagram. Today is day 14 of what I intend to be 101 consecutive days at the YMCA, and I also intend that people know just how hard I’m working at this. I want to be a healthy eating and exercising rock star, if not to an audience of millions,… Continue reading #101 days a gym rat

The new normal; chard-crab quiche

I was diagnosed with breast cancer just before Christmas (yeah, Happy Holidays!), and that’s been my excuse for everything I don’t feel like doing ever since. Like eating well or exercising or going to bed at a reasonable time. “I oughta be able to do this — I have cancer!” Obviously, that’s not going to… Continue reading The new normal; chard-crab quiche

The road not taken nearly often enough; build-a-breakfast

If you’ve never tried to get smaller or fitter, you don’t know what a challenge this is. Not a floating-in-the-Mediterranean-with-no-life-jackets challenge, but difficult. Not a drug or alcohol rehab challenge but difficult. The advantage I have over the re-habbers is that the harder I work, the better I feel. I don’t think that happens as… Continue reading The road not taken nearly often enough; build-a-breakfast

Commando in Wal-Mart; spatchcocking

Pride went-eth before the fall of my bloomers. Getting dressed for a Wal-Mart expedition, I decided to wear a sundress. I also decided to try smaller-sized underwear (almost 15 pounds gone at Weight Watchers). I never wear skirts and didn’t think that nothing would hold them up should the elastic roll floor-ward like a rubber band overstretched around a… Continue reading Commando in Wal-Mart; spatchcocking

70 is the new awesome

Tomorrow morning, to paraphrase Anne Lamott’s birthday column opener, I’m going to wake up 70 years old (9 years older than she). I am delighted that 1) I will most likely wake up; and 2) I will be at least 30 pounds lighter than on my 69th birthday. I’ve worked really hard on this; in fact, for… Continue reading 70 is the new awesome

Acceptance shouldn’t be approval

Have you seen last week’s People magazine? Twenty-nine-year old Tess Holliday is on the cover — “The world’s first size 22 Supermodel!” — like it’s a good thing. I’m all for accepting yourself and seeing beauty in every size and color, but the 5’5″ 280-pound Holliday is cruising toward diabetes at warp speed. She may feel great… Continue reading Acceptance shouldn’t be approval