Take a shortcut…

How can I control my life when I can’t control my hair? —Author Unknown

“Nancy, help me!” I pleaded with my stylist. “No matter how much styling gel and super-hold hairspray I use, I still get the Betty Rubble flip! Is there anything you can do?”

“There’s one thing we can do,” she replied with a hope-you’re-up-for-this smile.

Problem solved! I’m now sporting a short, kinda trendy cut—and I kinda like it. I’ve actually received quite a few compliments. Goodbye, Betty—don’t think I’m going to be seeing you anytime soon.

Brag Alert!

When you live for a strong purpose, then hard work isn’t an option. It’s a necessity.
—Steve Pavlin

My daughter Meghan just finished her first year in med school—an accomplishment in itself. The other day she received her grades on her finals: four As and a B. How can anyone so beautiful, fun, kind and wise be this smart, too?!

Sunny days are here again…

Having a little difficulty organizing these photos...

(Lower Left) The shaggy grass after the spring rain.

(Upper Left) Ahhh... much better—check out those lines!

(Upper Right) Gato, the coolest cat in the world, likes to watch the mowing action through the screen door.


“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven.” —Ecclesiastes 3:1
(and Pete Seeger, too)

The sun is out, it’s 73 degrees, and I’m doing a little happy dance. As a native southern Californian transplanted to the Midwest, I miss the beach—but more than that, I miss year-round sunshine. Granted, it wasn’t sunny every day back in OC, but I’m quite sure my vitamin D level never took a dive. Now don’t get me wrong, the Wizard of Oz effect of watching the world go from black-and-white to Technicolor as winter turns to spring is something I’d never experienced in my pre-KC days—and, after fourteen years, it still amazes me. The first winter we lived here I was positive the wooded area behind our house had suffered some kind of horrible blight and each of the trees had seen its last green leaf. Watching that forest come back to life as March gave way to April, filled me with childlike wonder, hope and anticipation. I felt a closeness to and appreciation of nature that I never had before. And it happens every year.

Yep, I miss those sunny warm California days when winter casts its frigid pall over the heartland, but I know if I were to return to the west coast I’d miss the changing of the seasons even more. I was inspired to write this because we’ve just endured seemingly endless days of springtime rain. Now? Time to go home and mow that way-too-long-because-it-was-too-wet-to-cut lawn.

Read it and weep…

"Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I've accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss."
— Nora Ephron

Amen, Ms. Ephron! And thank you, E.B. White. My addiction began almost 47 years ago while bawling my little pony-tailed head off at the demise of a spider. Yes, I’m a reader—and proud of it! In fact I get a little agitated when I’m not in the middle of a good page-turner. Oh, how I wish I felt the same way about jogging—I’d be able to eat Mocha Almond Concretes to my heart’s content! Back in my teaching days it always amazed me when the kids would ask how many pages they had to read for homework. “Why would you want to stop reading?” I’d ask. “Would you watch a great movie like that? Ten minutes today, then ten tomorrow, then ten the next day…?” But, alas, in response to questioning saucer-eyes, I’d give a chapter assignment. Last night I finished a fabulous novel by one of my favorite authors, “Every Last One” by Anna Quindlen. I’m not going to give a review here, but it’s a plot that hits unimaginably hard at a mother’s heart. Next up? “South of Broad” by Pat Conroy (Charleston, here I come!).

Forgive me Waylon and Willie, but I’m going to take a little liberty with that ol’ country hit of yours and urge, “Mamas, make sure your babies grow up to be readers.”

Okay, here goes…

"It's good to do uncomfortable things. It's weight training for life."
— Anne Lamott

A blog? Me? A blog is so personal—it’s kind of like letting someone read your private journal (you know, that journal I always start and don’t keep up). Of course, knowing that it’s going to be out in the open may be just the kick in the butt I need to keep on writing. Hopefully, you’ll be a little entertained, periodically informed and not too enraged at an occasional rant.

So, “Confessions of a Fifty-Something — Life in the Middle Ages” begins today.

And, since I am unable to format line breaks in the "About Me" section, I've placed it here...

I’m an ENFP.
Careers? I’ve had three.
Size 10 to a tee.
And I live in Shawnee
(Kansas, that is).

This eloquent poem doesn’t reveal everything about me, however you’ll probably learn more than you’d ever want to know as you continue to read (check in often).