We are each other’s memories, home-court habits

“We are each other’s memories,” said my beautiful, silver-haired friend yesterday morning at book club, and with that remark, she grounded me in my world in a way I’ve never before felt. Until I went to college at 17, my mother, sister and I were kept isolated in a very rural setting by my control-freak… Continue reading We are each other’s memories, home-court habits

Tubby oldsters and slimmed-down broccoli soup

When I repeated something I’d read about never seeing any old fat people, Stoic the Helpful suggested, “Santa Claus.” OK, besides a really fat and really old guy with a Downton Abbey-worthy household staff, who else? Anybody? Anybody not on a walker because of their abused old knees or hips? I can’t think of anyone;… Continue reading Tubby oldsters and slimmed-down broccoli soup

Eleventh day of Christmas and, baby, it’s cold outside!

My pipers piping are the redpolls (purple finches) at the bird feeders. Wikipedia says they’re native to the arctic tundra so they should feel right at home in the Carolina Piedmont this morning. Also mentions they “migrate erratically,” which is funny to think about. I guess I’ve done that throughout the holidays — from the… Continue reading Eleventh day of Christmas and, baby, it’s cold outside!