Starting My Day

I belong to an online writing group that posts prompts three times a week. Today’s prompt was “Starting my day.” I never thought of myself as having a “routine” to start my day. But as I age and have so many small tasks to accomplish in the morning, I find myself planning my entire day around a series of tasks I need to complete before I start my day.

I wake up anywhere from 7 a.m. to 8 a.m. I have my alarm set for 8 a.m., but I am usually up before then. This morning, it was 7:50 a.m. My dog, Loki, sleeps with me, and I take him out for his constitutional first. Next, I will make my bed. I hate clutter, and clutter for me is a messy bed.

Then I undress and weigh myself. I suppose I could do that once a week, but weighing myself dictates how much I eat that day for weight control. Next, I shower, blow-dry my hair, brush my teeth and dress. Next, I will get a bottle of warm water and take my medications.

Around 8:30 a.m., I join a Zoom call with Panache Desai, an Indian “guru” of sorts. It is called “Call to Cool, Calm Meditation,” and he shares his wisdom with some 3,000 folks worldwide and ends at 9:00 a.m. It is free and I love to listen to him.

After that, I turn on the TV to “Live with Kelly and Mark.” I love the part at about 9:12 a.m. where a caller tries to stump Mark, who tries to guess a correct situation from two submitted by a phone-in caller. If he guesses wrong, the caller wins a mug and a T-shirt that says, “I stumped Mark.” Stumping Mark has become a symbol of honor and fun.

As I watch that, I am brewing my cup of green tea and opening a chocolate-dipped granola bar for my breakfast. Finally, I break up a quarter of a peanut butter-flavored granola bar for Loki’s breakfast, eat my granola bar, and turn on my computer to play Wordle.

That’s how I start my day, every day, unless I have been careless enough to schedule an appointment before 10 a.m. Have a great day, and I hope something good happens to you today.

Best Friends

I have had several “Best Friends,” in my life, but two came to the forefront of my life recently. When I lived in Connecticut, I had one best friend, Carolyn. We were soul-sisters (SS). However, when I remarried, we grew apart because I believe she thought she didn’t fit in with our lifestyle, which was rather “Preppy.” Some forty years later when her sister was visiting us last June, she suggested I call her. I did, and when I told her it was I, her first words were, “My best friend.” Yes, even after all these years of separation she felt that way. I hoped we could reconnect. But we didn’t have a chance to reconnect. She died last December.

Soul-Sisters (n.) connected eternally, praying and cheering for each other, laughing till stomach hurt, and somehow makes everything all right.

I also had a best friend in high school. Her name was Veronica and we too were sister-soul mates. She was supposed to be my maid of honor when I married and me, hers. It didn’t turn out that way because when I married she was out of state at college. And, when she married we were estranged due to a complicated situation that involved her family and I wasn’t asked to be her maid of honor. We tried to reconnect after she married, but there was still too much hurt bubbling beneath the skin, and it didn’t work. Then I moved to Connecticut and our connection was broken.


Last month, I was visiting my ex-husband (yes we are now friends) and his wife in Florida and he mentioned that he had connected with Veronica who now also lived in Florida. They had a lively conversation he reported. Just before I left, he handed me a small piece of paper that had her name, telephone number, and email address on it. He simply said, “Please call her, she’d love to hear from you.”

This is not her real information

Yesterday, I called her and we chatted for over an hour. Later, I texted her a picture from my yearbook where it said, “This page reserved for Ronnie (her nickname).” It was blank. This morning we were texting back and forth over that since she thought it was 48 years ago and I reminded her it was 65 years ago. She texted back that her math was never good. And so it went that here it is that I have now reconnected with my high school best friend and SS while losing another.

Life is beautiful, amazing, magical, and mystical in an unexpected way.

Built Anew

I find that I am in the process of building anew my life without my spouse. It has only been eleven months since he died, and while the pain has abated, the memories are fresh for the picking depending on my mood.

Start New Life High Resolution Stock Photography and Images - Alamy


I have found a new freedom to make my own choices without concern for another and I finally find it exhilarating rather than guilty.  Guilty that I felt free from some bond that shouldn’t be broken, but was by death. I think we hang on to that bond out of some sense that if we let go it will feel as if we had abandoned our love for the one we lost. Truth is, we haven’t for that special love will always be something I will cherish and hold dear in my heart, but will not let it bind me to memories that prevent me from making free choices.  I have, however, lost that companion and advisor when I question one of my choices and must rely completely on my own information, intuition, and inclination. 

Making Choices High Resolution Stock Photography and Images - Alamy

And, if my choice turns out to be the wrong one, I’ll be the only one who has to deal with it and make it right or abandon it without another to say, “I told you so” or “Why didn’t you listen to me?” I feel like the caged bird set free to fly into the world to explore a life heretofore restricted and restrained. Yes, I am going to enjoy this new freedom that allows me to rebuild my life anew, in the image of my own imagination and choice. Watch out world, here I come on wings sprouted anew.

5 Daily Choices the Smartest People Make |

Climate Change Where Art Thou?

What is it with this weather? I thought that climate change meant that things were heating up, that those snowbound New England winters would turn into forever springtime and the snowbirds could stay home. Those in Florida would love that as the traffic would be bearable and the beaches would be all theirs. They might not like the slump in the economy due to the dearth of northern dollars flooding in, but hey, you know you can’t have it all.

Climate Change, People Influence Climate Change. Climate Change. Vector  Illustration Stock Vector - Illustration of environment, ecology: 151402320

I am sitting at my desk in lower Delaware, the sun is streaming in my easterly window and I’m freezing. It is May 12 for God’s sake and is only 61-degrees outside when it should be somewhere in the mid 70’s. Those May flowers, brought on by April showers, are shivering in their planters and I’m concerned they will not survive until June. As much as I love my spring and summer blossoms, I’m not a gardener by nature. The thought of having to buy new plants and replace my frozen buds doesn’t excite me.

20,252 Wilted Plant Photos and Premium High Res Pictures - Getty Images

However, I have noted that it is our human nature to complain when it is too cold and complain when it is too hot. In the winter months, we run from heated house to heated car to heated workplace, to heated grocery store to heated pharmacy back to the heated house. In the summer months, we exchange the heat for air conditioning and rarely suffer exposure to extreme hot or cold weather for more than three nanoseconds. We just can’t win unless we either love to be outside to ski or sled, or outside at the beach to bask and bake in the sun.

Grayton Beach State Park | Florida State Parks
I refuse to give up on the idea of skiing this season: I need it for my  mental health

So I’m waiting for this climate change to settle somewhere in the middle and give me 50-degrees give or take a few degrees every night and 80-degrees give or take a few degrees every day. Or, as many have suggested, I could move to San Diego where those temperatures exist 365 days a year, and quit complaining.

36 Hours in San Diego | Best Locals Travel Guide - YouTube

The Wedding

Not too long ago I wrote about taking off my wedding rings after my spouse died last fall. I have also pondered since then as to what to do with his wedding ring. It is way too big (size 11 or 12) for any of my fingers and I’m sure it would fetch a pretty penny if I sold it for the gold content. However, that didn’t seem like a very honorable thing to do since it represented our 40 years together. Ponder, ponder, ponder.

I also remember writing about our “Logo” some years ago on one of my blogs. Maybe even on one before I lost them all to a hard drive crash before cloud storage. The logo was of two seagulls flying together which my spouse wrote about in an early love letter. In the letter he compared our lives as two gulls who fly together most of the time, but also fly away on their own path for a while, but always return to fly together. He wore a gold pair of flying gulls I had made for him around a chain on his neck until he died. He loved to tell people about how it represented our love, togetherness, but also our independence.

I finally decided to meld his wedding band and the two flying gulls together and have them made into one pendant. The rub here was that I have a Jerusalem cross that I bought in Jerusalem in 1998 that have worn around my neck every day since then. It is a gorgeous piece and I was hesitant to stop wearing it in favor of the gull-ring piece.

And so, the wedding took place. I took them all to a jeweler and had them pieced together into one pendant. It is exquisite and I now carry some of my love with me every day while still wearing the cross I cherish. A win-win.

The Bras Are Off

The Bras Off

I recently had to have a CT scan, but before it could be done, the technician said I had to have an EKG (Electrocardiogram – why the initials are a “K” and not a “C” is beyond me).  As he was about to lift my blouse to attach the electrodes, I said, “Now don’t be scared, but I have no bra on.” He hesitated. I added, “I haven’t worn a bra in at least 30 years. They are instruments of torture.” I don’t know what he thought after that, but the female assistant burst into laughter and said, “Can you stay here all day, you are my kinda woman, and after the morning I’ve had, I want you to stay and cheer me up.” We both chuckled. The flush-faced male technician lifted my blouse, attached the electrodes, and carried on trying hard to make me believe my drooping ladies were an everyday occurrence to him.

CT Scan, CAT Scan

This bra talk got me thinking about not wearing my bra since I have not worn a bra in over 30 years. Oh, by the way, in case anyone is saying, “Ewwww,” right about now, I always wear two layers or at least a camisole, so my girl’s nipples won’t offend. I have found that bras don’t have any measurable effect on keeping my girls up and bouncy. Inch by cruel inch, they slowly slithered past my waistline and are now becoming intimate with my belly button. Each morning I stand nude in front of the mirror and cup them in both hands and lift them to my twenty-year-old something position. Of course, not for their benefit, but so I can have a moment to recall their glory days. Those perfect 34B orbs were the envy of all my friends. Especially Andrea, who was a whopping 44DD, and Penny, who was a minuscule 30AA.

Aging Gracefully From Rags to Riches | COW PASTURE CHRONICLES

Over the years, I have also learned that bras may also contribute to cancer. I won’t bore you with all the research details, but it has something to do with constricting our blood vessels and lymph-somethings. Anything that constricts or binds up the flow of our bodily fluids can’t be good. So it makes a lot of sense that it might be a cause for any number of rather unpleasant consequences, including cancer.  Surely kidney stones back up our kidneys and are very painful.  Bladder infections can form large blood clots in the bladder and contribute to pain and suffering.  We all know that blocked arteries cause heart attacks, constipation isn’t good, and God knows what else goes on underneath our unique sack of skin in the dark recesses of our body.

450 Maxine Cartoons & Quotes ideas | maxine, funny, bones funny

Come to think of it, in our au naturel state, nothing binds us up.  Maybe the healthiest alternative is to go naked.  It has its advantages – we don’t have to keep “in style,” no dry-cleaning bills, no need for a washer and dryer, a walk-in closet space could be used as an extra bedroom for small people.  We could fill our minds with much more helpful information instead of wasting it deciding what to wear, what color looks best, or whether or not a particular outfit makes us look fat.  And our time – think of the time spent shopping for clothes – hey, we could read the classics, listen to music, volunteer at a non-profit, play with our children or grandchildren, write that book……the possibilities are endless…or at least bra-less.

Erin go braless | Etsy


After my husband died in September 2020 I found that I had joined a host of wingles. Wingle is what my daughter calls me because she didn’t like the term “Widow” as it reminded her of the black widow spider who consumed her mate after mating. I must agree that is not a pleasant vision.

How to Identify a Black Widow Spider | Black widow spider, Widow spider, Black  widow

So, she invented “Wingle” which is a contraction of “widow – wi” and “single – ngle. and it has stuck.

But I digress. I had a quandary – when should I stop wearing my wedding rings. As wingle after wingle stopped by to drop off a meal for my family and visitors, or I ran into one in the grocery store, I would ask them when they stopped wearing their rings. One said after about a year when she took them off to garden and never put them back on. Another said she couldn’t remember, they were just gone one day. One said she considered herself still married and still wears hers. Another said she just put them on her right hand, but only the engagement ring. One wears her engagement ring on the ring finger and the wedding ring on her pinkie. Well, I certainly had a choice now didn’t I?

Wedding Ring Guide

And then I remembered the wedding vows Ralph and I exchanged some forty years earlier. We had changed the part that said, “to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death,” to “love and to cherish forever.” Forever.

And it struck me then that being a Christian and believing in the afterlife, I would be loving my beloved forever. I no longer had to wonder when I would remove my wedding rings.

God gave me you to cherish and treasure forever. - Romantic Love Quote |  Romantic love quotes, Cherish quotes, Hello quotes

Death and Grief

Thursday afternoon, September 3rd, was the worst day of my life. My spouse of 40-plus years, Ralph, went into the hospital last Monday and this Thursday had surgery to remove a bowel obstruction. What they found shocked everyone including his surgeon. His entire abdomen was filled with metastatic melanoma cancer. There is no cure. There is no treatment. His digestive system has shut down. He cannot eat and can only ingest small amounts of clear liquid. They are only giving him weeks to journey with me in this place. He is coming home to me today and into hospice care to die in peace with dignity.

Monday morning, September 7th, my beloved soulmate, Ralph, ended his earthly journey at the stroke of midnight announcing Monday had begun as his cherished grandfather clock tolled twelve for him. He will be deeply missed but his memories live on in my heart and will forever. Rest in peace, sweet, kind man. Your footprints are left on this earth and in my soul. The memory of your smile will continue to light up my life.

Ralph W Peters, Jr. 1932 – 2020

Thursday, September 24th, a friend asked if grief would be different when death occurred at different ages. I think if a spousal death occurs when someone is younger than 50 it could have a greater impact on the grieving process.  I think that when the spousal death occurs when people are in their 80’s there is less impact since there is less time to live ahead of them and often couples speak of death and some even make plans such as funeral arrangements, wills, advance directives, etc. Death is much closer at hand and I think some subconscious grieving occurs even before a spouse dies.  I know in my case, if I was up early and doing chores that Ralph usually did, I would say I was preparing for widowhood.  Sometimes I would even shed some tears at the thought of losing Ralph whenever that might be.  Also, older people have experienced more deaths of their contemporaries which brings them face-to-face with death more often than younger people.  

So, I guess the short answer to her question is yes, age does make a difference. I am sure her daughter Liz will grieve much more deeply and perhaps longer because her spouse Brian died so young at age 42 of alcoholism.  She can’t say things like, we had a long and happy life together, or I have forty years of memories that will sustain me.  And, of course, the quality of the relationship will have a bearing as well. I think the grief from the loss of a spouse in a happy marriage is going to be different than grief from the loss of a spouse in a miserable or abusive marriage. In a miserable relationship, grief is often mingled with guilt. Guilt because part of you is free, released from the misery. Grief because you lost the once love of your life.  In a happy relationship it is much easier to dismiss and forgive those arguments you had, the niggling little annoyances in life you both tolerated in each other, and bathe in the overwhelming happiness of the relationship as a whole.  I am blessed with the latter. Thanks be to God, and thank you, Jesus.

Losing It

It is the beginning of month six of the pandemic in my part of the world. And, it is the beginning of month six for us wrinkled ones to “Shelter-in-place” as they say. And it is the beginning of me slipping into premature dementia.

Now I’m usually a very conscientious person who remembers important things. But these days whenever I go out (to non-large crowd gathering places) I forget to wear my mask. How can that be when it is a matter of life and death. Okay, maybe not death, but a matter of getting COVID19 from someone else. It is also a matter of giving COVID19 to someone else should I have it without any symptoms. Scary. Hmmmm…it could be death if I’m on a ventilator and don’t recover. I’m old, very old.

The funny thing is I don’t feel old. My mind has settled somewhere around 38-years-old, but with an extra 43-years of wisdom smushed into the corners. God, where have the years gone? What lessons have I missed? What mistakes should I correct? Never mind. I can’t go back and change anything, so why bother ruminating about it.

Where was I? Oh, yes, I think I am slipping into pandemic induced memory loss. I get up and don’t remember what day it is. I look at my computer but it only tells me the date, not the day. I open my calendar, oh yes, it is Tuesday. And it is only then that I notice an event the day before that I completely forgot. My doctors all give me a reminder call. Maybe I need a calendar, or even Alexa, who will tell me it is time to do this or do that.

I get really worried and really aggravated when my spouse tells me I said something an hour ago and I flatly deny ever saying it. Or, he says I did something (which is worse) two days ago and I find myself screaming NO I DIDN’T, only to mysteriously find out I did.

I guess it comes with the territory of celebrating birthdays. Sigh. I’m not ready to give those up yet, so I guess it will have to be my memory.

When the Wheel Comes Off

It was Sunday, April 10th, just a little after Noon, and we were crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel returning from a trip to Florida. The speed limit was reduced to 50 mph and the wind was howling a steady 40 mph with gusts up to 60 mph, and white caps on the bay.

White caps on the Chesapeake
White caps on the Chesapeake

Our silver mini-van, affectionately called “Minerva,” was buffeted about, but stayed true and steady on the path.  The bridge is 12-miles long and we were in the last 600 yards when i heard what sounded like a small rock hitting the side of the van.

“What’s that?” I asked my spouse, R, as we tooled along.


“Didn’t you hear that sound?”


Back to reading my book.  Not more than two minutes passed when there was a loud rattling sound.

“What’s that noise?” I asked R.

“That’s just the luggage rack rattling.”


Another minute passed. “You know that doesn’t sound like the luggage rack sound.”

“You may be right.”

“Let’s pull over on the next side street and take a look around.”  We did. We both got out of the van and peered at all four tires, under the van, and over the van.  Shrugged as we found nothing visually amiss.  Hopped back in and went back to highway 13 in Cape Charles, Virginia.  The noise was louder now and more a clunking sound than a rattle.  R put on his flashers and slowed down to about 20 mph as I looked up the nearest gas station.  It was 1.7 miles ahead.  We clattered and clunked along.

We pulled into the station.  I went to the ladies room, R went in to ask about the nearest repair facility.  It was a Shell station 7 miles up the road. Back out on the road, we started up the highway.  Not 100 feet later the clunking sounded like a train running us over.

“This van is not going to make it seven miles. Let’s go back to the Citgo station.”

Then the van started to shake, the steering wheel had a quivering life of its own.  R made a quick U-turn across the divided highway, sidled over onto the shoulder, and crept up to the gas station entrance.  Twenty feet into the parking area, the left front wheel clunked off the van and started its independent journey headed for the highway.

2016-04-09 13.07.42 - Copy

Sheared bolt, four unscrewed bolts. Off goes the wheel
Sheared bolt, four unscrewed bolts. Off goes the wheel

Jolted, but unhurt, both R and I jumped out of the van in pursuit of the meandering tire.  Fortunately, it hit a curb, swerved to the left, and just averted heading into the oncoming traffic when I caught up with it and stopped its progress.  Phew, that was close.

“AAA, may I help you?”

“Sure, we need a long tow.  How many miles do we get for a free tow?” Luckily, we had the premium level coverage.

“You get 100 miles free for any tow, but only one free 200 mile tow per year.”

“Yah.  We need a 120 mile tow.”

Up on the flat bed, Minerva. You're going for a long ride
Up on the flat bed, Minerva. You’re going for a long ride

Four hours later, two in the cab of the tow truck, we are nestling the van in front of the repair shop.  They will pay to have the work done since they had just taken the four wheels off to install new struts and shock, the day before our trip to Florida.  Obviously, the nuts on one tire had not been torqued.

But, the weirdest part for me a least, was that I never worried about any consequences until it was all over and I realized we could both have been killed, along with perhaps several others, had that wheel come off as we were traveling perhaps 65 mph on the Interstate.  Then it struck me how fortunate we were, and how much worse it could have been. I started to cry.  Thank you Jesus.