It’s technically not a spa

Wednesday I am going in for some touch-up surgery. They call it a scar revision, I call it the removal of my man boob. Okay, not politically correct, but that’s what it is, a small amount of fatty tissue that was left behind and has taken up residence as a small, slouchy pseudo-breast. Not a woman’s breast, not the sleek… Continue reading

Remembering how to play

When I visit my mother, I do yoga outside on the deck beside the pool. There, the scent of salt spray lingers on the breeze as it moves clean air off the ocean and over the berm of grape leaves, the methodical sound of waves pushing and pulling on the shore keeps tempo with my breath, and my yoga practice… Continue reading

Stress … free

Irma has come and gone, but the stress lingers on. A quick look at the National Hurricane Center website shows Jose, Lee and Maria making their way across the Atlantic, reminding us that hurricane season isn’t over quite yet. We must sit tight, wait and watch, while these children of the Atlantic cavort about and decide what path to skip… Continue reading

Thank your guardian angels

Fear is a funny thing. Sitting smack dab in the center of Florida, I have obsessed over Irma’s drunken-sailor progress this past week; first her westward trek across the Atlantic, then her indecision as to when to turn and where in Florida to make land. She is as indecisive as to her landing point as I am with the TV… Continue reading

Muscle on my side

Is it odd that I view the sky as my own personal divination tool? All I have to do is glance skyward to see the echoes of my path unfold. Yesterday, lounging on the steps of the pool, I watched as giant, billowy super heroes scaled banks of clouds, on the ready for what may come. Their determined gazes shone… Continue reading