ANNA MARIA ISLAND, Florida – As a retired woman of a certain age, there’s not a whole lot that can get me up and out before 9 a.m. Keyword being “out.” An urgent veterinary appointment for our beloved Havanese, nature’s call and, of course, pickleball with my peeps. (Just not this year. I shall return.) On Tuesday morning, though, we had good reason to rise and shine early: strict orders from “Queen E,” our winter maven of shelling and shaming. Most folks around the pool here call her Eileen. “The early bird gets the sand dollars, girls, so haul your lazy butts over here to the beach by 8!” she said…
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Mimes, Minions and mothers
Another Saturday, another opportunity to either look on the bright side or retreat into my cozy hole of cynicism. Hard to say which one to choose on this rainy February day on the (usually) sunny gulf coast of Florida. Not that I’m complaining. We are, after all, not in Michigan. “I wish all of this sand was snow,” said nobody, ever. Anyway, the other night we watched “The Holdovers” movie streaming on Peacock. It stars Paul Giamatti playing a cantankerous instructor at a New England prep school who must remain on campus during Christmas break to babysit a handful of ragtag students with nowhere to go. He soon forms an…
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Hopeful hearts
The average price for a gallon of gas when the Detroit Lions last appeared in an NFC title game was $1.19. Just under $3 a gallon in Michigan, our boys in Honolulu Blue could have used some premium high octane against San Francisco before they ran out of steam after blowing a 17-point lead at the half last Sunday. The Lions came in as underdogs, but they sure didn’t play like it in the first half. Stagnant and stunned, the 49ers were behind 24-7 after two quarters. But like that old saying about the month of March, Detroit came in like lions and went out like lambs. From roaring beasts to gentle giants.…
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Rizz is the word
I love words. Big ones, little ones, made-up ones, silly ones. And I do love a clever portmanteau (spork!) and forever strive to omit needless words, thanks to the advice of my beloved style guys, Strunk and White. Words have been my meal ticket for as long as I can remember. So, when the Oxford English Dictionary names its word of the year for 2023, I pay attention. This year, however, I had no idea what the chosen word meant. In fact, I felt a little left out. Or, more to the point, simply out of it. Gen Z, I ain’t, but really, I’m not thaaat old, am I? Am I? OK, a generation or…
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Honolulu Blue, baby
In these parts, the expression “S.O.L” doesn’t always refer to your crappy state of luck and mean you’ve all but run out of it. This is Detroit, after all, the resilient Motor City and home to “cars, bars and a few weirdos,” as they used to say. No, when Detroit sports fans think of SOL, it has only one meaning, particularly during the NFL season: “Same old Lions.” And with good reason. Like back in 2008 when they went 0-16, a record then but later matched by the 2017 Cleveland Browns. (Sorry, Bonnie.) One thing’s certain. I have never written a positive blog post about the Detroit Lions. I even did a search…
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Merry ‘muted’ Christmas
It’s a cruel world, babe, as my wise father used to say. Indeed. Wonder what he would say about this recent newsflash: Christmas is canceled in Bethlehem. I am not making this up. It’s the honest-to-God awful truth in this incredibly messed up world of ours. There’s no Christmas in Bethlehem this year. For real. With war raging between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, all holiday bets are off. Too much grief and devastation to justify any sort of festivities, even in the Holy Land. Some have dubbed it a “muted” Christmas. Hold the merry. Last month, a teaser headline about the Christmas cancellation showed up in my NYT digital…
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Steel magnolias
Thank goodness my mother was a saver. And not just those ubiquitous plastic margarine tubs, Ziplock bags and, well, actual money — after all, this is the woman who shamelessly tucked envelopes of garage sale profits inside her favorite designer jackets. Her “mad money,” as she called it. Luckily, she told her three daughters about the secret stash of closet cash before she died. Even 15 years later since she passed on this day in 2008, Mom still manages to surprise me. As Daughter #3, I knew my mother had kept mementos of me: a lock of hair, old baby shoes and all of my K-12 report cards. Much to…
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Three funerals and a pizza
What’s on your calendar? Perhaps it’s my maturity or the generation of most of my friends and family, but lately I’ve had more doctor’s appointments, physical therapy visits and drive-thru pharmacy pickups than date nights. Oh, and funerals. Last week I attended three. It was rather unnerving. Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful to be here to attend these celebrations of life and pay my respects to some outstanding people. But facing my own mortality as I wind down in what is my “third act” of life, I find that I am not done yet, and I intend to savor each and every day. Aside: I’ve got to say, one troubling aspect of…
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Terms of impairment
I recently saw the best hospital waiting room sign ever in Area C at Troy Beaumont: “Keep calm and don’t move the furniture.” What a world we live in. On top of war, pestilence, greed and disaster, there are actually people who rearrange waiting room furniture. Good grief. Who does that? Sufferers of serious PMS, I suppose. (Speaking from experience.) Or those who bring their entire immediate family, including bawling infants, to the hospital and set up camp. (Speaking from the experience of being subjected to this.) I know. I have a lot of experience, particularly in the wellness arena. I’m not a doctor, but I could play one on TV. Of…
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The Bluebird
“Nashville cats, play clean as country water Nashville cats, play wild as mountain dew Nashville cats, been playin’ since they’s babies Nashville cats, get work before they’re two” ~ Chorus from the 1966 hit ”Nashville Cats” by The Lovin’ Spoonful. If I were given a work life “do-over,” I’m pretty sure I would have chosen the music business instead of journalism. Not as a performing artist but the person who discovers them. The talent scout who sits in the audience listening to dozens of acts searching for the next big star. Or at least an asteroid. In sports, particularly major league baseball, elite scouts have what is called “the third…
