Our Bodies, Ourselves: Expect the Unexpected
In early May, after working out at the gym (and getting all my muscles to ache!), I found that my left leg didn’t seem to recover like my right leg did. We were pretty busy with our daughter’s college graduation, and because my leg wasn’t causing me dreadful pain, I back-burnered the issue for a while. We prepared for the graduation, then spent several exciting but exhausting days running around New York City: up and down hundreds of subway steps, uptown, downtown, standing in line, lugging luggage, and so on. Finally, the last week of May, life seemed to settle down some, and I called my doctor’s office. I would finally get that "tendonitis” taken care of.
Rescue Me! Parental Nurturing in the Empty-Nesting Years
Certainly, this is a time to savor no more carpools and itineraries! You are long past due to exhale and feel the deep satisfaction of having given your best so that little person you cherish became his or her best! Once you attain the rhythm of a more relaxed agenda, it can be difficult to top that profound emotion engendered by giving with love. What can you do? Rather than flounder and feel a lack of purpose, recapture the tremendous energy and gratification that came without thought when you gave to your child. What a wonderful feeling it is to give! As St. Francis of Assisi wisely said, “It is in the giving that we receive.” To nourish yourself, you must continue to nourish others. Here are a few ideas to expand your possibilities for giving.
Sailing as a Couple: It’s Possible. Really!
It’s early June as we launch our 19-ft Lightning “Windsong” onto Lake Nockamixon, near Quakertown, PA. My husband Gary backs the boat trailer into the water as I grab the bow line and walk carefully up the ramp, guiding the boat toward a free cleat while Gary parks the truck. I can’t believe it’s June and I’m only just now getting out on the boat! I don my sailing gloves, with the open fingertips, and Velcro them snuggly into place. Although right now I’m only clipping the rudder into place as the boat bobs at the dock and I wait for Gary, I’m imagining that first puff of air filling the sail—that gentle “whoosh”—and the boat quietly slicing through the water, away from the dock. I imagine what I’ll do next—watch the tell-tales, so I can trim the jib, and thus make best use of all the air that puff has to offer. Then, we’ll tack back and forth, closely among the other boats, anxious for the race to begin. The adrenalin begins, like it always does before a race. The sun warms my face and shoulders; there is no feeling like it. It’s going to be a fabulous day.
Old-Looking Teeth: A Fate Worse than Death?
Not that long ago, it was an achievement, a consummation devoutly to be wished, to hold onto your teeth—your own, natural, God-given chompers—long enough for them to look old. Really old: yellowy and chipped and brown-veined and uneven and thoroughly unattractive. But still enviable, then, at least to people who had to make do with man-made substitutes.