My Grandmother’s Hands

Sitting at the computer early one morning, contemplating the challenges of aging gracefully, I glanced down and recoiled in horror! My grandmother's hands rested on the keyboard.

The Writing Life

I'd written all my life, but until the ripe old age of fifty, had never ventured beyond family memoirs and very bad poetry. Then five crazy broads got together and formed WOOF: Women Only Over Fifty. All of us had reached that magic milestone, or were about to, and weren't all that thrilled with the ramifications. Hormones, hot flashes, …

Continue reading The Writing Life