We had a group of co-workers who would go to a company sponsored aerobics class after work. Two of us taped a remote control fart machine under one of the aerobic steps and an innocent bystander (my daughter who was on the sidelines doing homework) would occasionally push the activation button. It was hysterical. No one was hurt and of course, we chose the person who could best be part of the joke. We also stuffed a plastic bag inside one of the spouts on a girl’s water bottle. She sucked and sucked on that thing and couldn’t get a single drop of water. No one was hurt and it took some of the pain out of the workout session. Laughter is a good workout too.

One of my favorite books… I read it a few years ago as a volunteer for story time at a local county park and even the parents sat quietly and listened.

I don’t have the numbers or statistics (or the time to look them up this morning) to back up this right now but when I was house hunting seven months ago, the cost of the housing was affordable but the taxes made purchasing unrealistic. Lately as I drive around town I see the “PRICE REDUCED” tags attached to the realtor signs but perhaps these houses were greatly overpriced in the beginning “just in case” they could get top dollar? I’m renting now, at least until I finish college. That’s three years away and we know how much can change.

Right now I get it through my employer but in just one year, I will need to quit my job to do my clinical rotation to finish my degree. For 15 months I will be a full time student. I don’t know what I’ll do for health insurance and it is one of the concerns that keeps me awake at night. It is a frightening situation.

A perfect summer evening in the north central mountains of Pennsylvania. We rode bikes over 30 miles that afternoon and were simply relaxing by the campfire. We made fresh-from-the field sweet corn and beef tenderloin wrapped in bacon grilled in pie irons over the fire, we had millions of stars, and cold beverages and I even managed to roast a few marshmallows to golden brown toasty sweet perfection. I recognized the moment as perfect and said that I hope that all the women I know, especially my daughter, has an opportunity to experience perfection at some moment in her life and is aware enough to recognize the moment. It would be disappointing to look back on it in a few years and say, “that was a perfect moment… I wish I had enjoyed it more.” My boyfriend and I seem to have a natural rhythm that creates these moments of serenity, peace and perfection. More than once we have both said, “this is as good as it gets.”

My daughter underwent botox injections in both her hands just five weeks ago for a case of severe hyperhidrosis. For at least ten years she has suffered from extreme sweating and the palms of her hands were the worse. In a matter of 60 to 90 seconds, she would have a puddle of sweat in her palms. It caused extreme anxiety in social situations, resulted in extra hand taping to take part in high school volleyball, and sometimes ruined school work because of the sweat dripping onto the papers she was working on. To watch television she would hold washcloths in her hands. She had about an 85% success rate with the injections. She said she will never do it again though. It was extremely painful.

Sometimes I am astonished at the timing of your questions in my life… Twenty years ago yesterday I reported for U.S. Army basic training. At 24 years old, I was in great shape, having spent three months preparing for what I heard was a grueling, physically demanding stretch of mililtary training in Alabama in August! Yet… I am much more comfortable with my body today. This past Saturday night I had the privilege and fantastic experience of being completely and beautifully naked at a campfire in the mountains. After a long day of hiking and a hot shower, the evening chill in the air prompted the building of a campfire (unusual for an August evening). It just seemed completely natural to dry in front of the fire. It is now filed in my memory as one of the most sensual experiences of my life. I would have NEVER done that twenty years ago.

I colored my hair once… never - never - never again! I cannot see spending time on money trying to look like something or someone I am not. Probably one of the reasons my husband left - he always wanted a red head he told me. And… his girlfriend now has sort of purple/red hair!

I am so blessed to live in south central PA. At my finger tips I have: The Appalachian Trail and hundreds of other hiking trails A number of Atlantic coast beaches Fantastic cities - Philly, Baltimore, DC, Pittsburgh

I always try to catch “Breakfast at Wimbledon” and yesterday it was brunch, and dinner too! To watch two incredible athletes give everything they have for hours on end was a privilege. To watch them both end their day as gentlemen was refreshing and renewed my faith in professional athletes. I don’t typically watch sports unless my daughter is on the court/field. The exception is the Olympics - summer or winter games - no preference.

Yes, at work, I am often the oldest in the room but this morning, when I report to work, for at least a half hour, I will be the youngest in the room. Perhaps that morning meeting should last a little longer on Mondays so I can think about that role for a little while longer. I remember the day my new gynecologist walked into the room and I was certain he wasn’t old enough to shave. Probably the most significant “age” event occurred for me two years ago when a group of ladies went out for dinner and we began discussing where and when we had graduated from high school. All of a sudden it occurred to me that I was the oldest woman at that dinner. My status was accelerated when the two ladies who were “ahead of me” relocated to other parts of the country and were no longer able to be part of our GNO’s. I had slipped, unbeknownst even to me, into the role of matriarch. A surprise? Yes. Shocking? A little. Most of the time I’d rather be the oldest in the room than not in the room at all. Age is just a number and there is so much to learn from everyone who is willing to share, no matter what their age.

Yes, at work, I am often the oldest in the room but this morning, when I report to work, for at least a half hour, I will be the youngest in the room. Perhaps that morning meeting should last a little longer on Mondays so I can think about that role for a little while longer. I remember the day my new gynecologist walked into the room and I was certain he wasn’t old enough to shave. Probably the most significant “age” event occurred for me two years ago when a group of ladies went out for dinner and we began discussing where and when we had graduated from high school. All of a sudden it occurred to me that I was the oldest woman at that dinner. My status was accelerated when the two ladies who were “ahead of me” relocated to other parts of the country and were no longer able to be part of our GNO’s. I had slipped, unbeknownst even to me, into the role of matriarch. A surprise? Yes. Shocking? A little. Most of the time I’d rather be the oldest in the room than not in the room at all. Age is just a number and there is so much to learn from everyone who is willing to share, no matter what their age.

This headline took me by force this week. Married 15 years and a little over a year ago he walked out because he was “unhappy”. Until last Saturday I thought I had met THE man I would spend the rest of my life with. I don’t know that we would have ever decided to marry, but I really thought we would have many happy years together because everything fit together so well. It simply “worked”… or so I thought. Now I am putting on my big girl panties each day and moving forward trying to remember that if it doesn’t kill me, it will make me stronger. Maya Angelou said, “I can be changed by what happens to me but I refuse to be reduced by it.” At 44 years old, I am: back in college (collecting yet another degree), working full time, taking up the new hobby of semi-serious bicycling for a good cardio and muscular workout, and raising my beautiful 15-year-old daughter to know there is only one thing in this world a married woman can have that a single woman cannot and that is her own husband….

I’m a Googler. I try to visit at least once a day to see the daily graphics. I’ve learned about some obscure “holidays” because my interest was piqued by their altered logo. Now that I am back in college, I find the links and internet resources referrenced by my textbooks are lifesavers. I visit lots of those. (I suppose I, too, am a link junkie.) I remember hours spent at the library (not to mention the time to get there and get back home) working on term papers in high school. For those with similar memories… think about the feel of those well-worn cards in the card catalog. Can you remember the aging cards creating yellowed stripes in the heavy wooden drawers? It was like a geological timeline. I have the day off today. Maybe I should revisit my childhood library instead of Googling….

Disfigurement is the only reason I would ever consider plastic surgery. But, who are we to say where to draw the line between what someone thinks is disfiguring and what is a minor imperfection? Here’s a bit of a thought provoking question I read in a book years ago. “Would you pull the wings off a butterfly for a trip around the world?” After giving this question your consideration, you were instructed to turn to a page in the back of the book and the follow-up question was: “Would you kill a cockroach for a trip around the world?” They then prompted you to discuss what was the difference between the two. Who are you to determine where beauty stops and ugly begins? I am almost certain the book was called “The Book of Questions” and I am so sad that in my moves it has found its way to the hands of another. I haven’t seen it in years.