Tag archives: former self
If you want to feel delightfully young and horrifically ancient at
the same time, go out on a Saturday night with your former roommate and your
husbands in the town you where you went to college.
This is the lesson I learned recently while sipping a sugary Long
Island iced tea the size of a Big Gulp (only $4!). This disgusting concoction seemed
like a great idea after four glasses of wine and a comment from the bartender that
I was old enough to be his mother.
OK, so that’s an exaggeration. What actually happened is I told the ...
universe is at it again. This time in the form of an out-of-the-blue call from
a former colleague I haven’t spoken with in more than a year. He and another
former coworker were in town on business and wanted to see if I might be able
to get together for a drink or dinner.
It was a
last-minute request, and my schedule wouldn’t allow for it. Still, we chatted
for about 20 minutes, and it felt great to catch up. We’d survived some
difficult work challenges together over the years, and I realized how much I ...
This month one of my book clubs read
“Where’d You Go, Bernadette?,” a fictional story of a highly creative,
up-and-coming architect who becomes a recluse after suffering a professionally
tragedy. After years of keeping to herself—and becoming more than a bit nutty
in the process—she actually physically disappears to Antarctica of all places,
and her husband and daughter must find her.
I wanted to love the book since it had
rave reviews, but even though it was funny at times, I couldn’t suspend my
disbelief enough. Antarctica? Really?
The real problem, though, was that I
Have you ever felt that confusing
feeling that you’ve slipped into some kind of time-warped parallel universe? I’m
not talking about time travel or even déjà vu. I’m referring to the feeling you
get when you are experiencing a moment from the viewpoint of yourself at two
different ages in time.
This past weekend I experienced a
trifecta of space-time weirdness when in the course of one evening, I felt 13,
22 and 41.
My husband and I went out for dinner and
drinks with my college and post-college roommate and her husband. At one point
Cat calls, whistles, inappropriate under-the-breath
Haven’t we women all felt that sickening
feeling in the pits of our stomachs when we must walk solo passed a group of guys?
We shrink up as small as possible as we slink by, desperately telling
ourselves, “don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact” while
simultaneously praying, “please don’t look at me, please don’t look at me.”
These situations drove me crazy in my
20s and early 30s. I’d taken enough women’s lit classes in college to know that
all of these things were degrading ...