There are always some which flourish; some, that with the right care, blossom and grow and flower.
Those are the ones that sting to leave behind.
There are always some which flourish; some, that with the right care, blossom and grow and flower.
Those are the ones that sting to leave behind.
Every year for the last three, along with a group of friends, I’ve packed my bags, left color-coded instructions for my family, and flown off for a long weekend. If our annual women’s weekend (or as I christened it this year, Vajayjay Vacay) were a movie, here’s how I envision the poster: Six full-grown females,…
Every now and again I come across a clutch of women in a corner. They’re usually talking in low voices about some new atrocity of aging. Some fresh circle of hell that comes with getting older, some hot flash of inspiration that goes hand in hand with reaching a certain..ahem.. age. I am that age. But…
Yesterday, as competitors in the Ironman Challenge raced past our apartment, pushing their bodies to the limit of endurance, I was slowly cycling toward an afternoon meant to celebrate the life of a woman who endured in a different way, who pushed her body to a different limit. I knew about her long before we met. When she…