When running away is not an option
I suppose I could don a disguise and run off to the nearest wine-bar and sip cocktails while my husband tried to find me to make dinner. But then I’d likely overdo it and end up being driven home by a well-meaning stranger who would need to be fed, too. Such is the life of a cook.
This story is written from the viewpoint of a person who is responsible for making meals in the home. When I was growing up it was usually a woman. Now, of course, sometimes the husband is the primary cook, or the partner. Sometimes…
I also take advantage of every opportunity to go outside
I don’t know about the rest of the seventyish population, but I have been staying indoors a lot of the day, for a lot of the days and weeks and months this past year. It is especially noticeable in winter, as right now, for instance, I couldn’t go out without a big pep talk. I mean, today it is 34 degrees and snowing/sleeting/ freezing-rain. If I went out I would get my clothes wet, ruin the beach hair effect I’ve just created with a lot of product in my wet hair. …
The weather this month has been all wrong. Not at all what we expect in the summer. Dull, dreary, soggy, and damp. Hardly any sunny days. But, wow, when they happen, you really appreciate them. And, now that we have had adequate rain, the greens are greener and the flowers are blossoming like mad all over the place.
In writing this week:
I have recently written two pieces for Crows Feet in support of the men in my life:
I have written a piece for Crow’s Feet Publication about the anti-inflammatory menu my husband and I tried last week. It worked pretty…
They made a big contribution to the person I am today
After several unsettling conversations over the past few weeks about “toxic masculinity” and all the things that are wrong with the male gender, I have found myself thinking about the men who have crossed my path in my 70-plus years. While there are some who have hindered my progress (and I have certainly been held back by systemic issues), the individuals who come to mind are the good guys. I began unwrapping memories that led to this story.
There have been many important and memorable times in the course of my life when someone helped me. Today I want to…
With excellent results and we’re glad it’s over
Last week my husband and I decided to try giving our aging bodies a decent chance at feeling better by feeding ourselves some better food. We agreed that for three days, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of last week we would eat only certain kinds of anti-inflammatory foods. I was to plan and cook them, and he agreed to eat whatever I served. I made up a menu ahead of time so we would know what treat was coming up next.
Now in our seventies, we had both been bothered by nagging problems: our blood pressure creeping up, hints of pre-diabetes…
Men intrigue me and often touch my heart
I am a seventyish woman, and I like men. Let me say that at the outset. I find men curious, interesting, baffling, weird in different ways than I am weird. They have strange priorities and sensitivities. They are sometimes cocky, often strong and brave. They intrigue me and often touch my heart.
I have wanted to write this story in defense of the men I have known and loved, as their tiniest actions have come under increasing scrutiny recently–a sometimes gentle, sometimes cruel, male-bashing that seems to go along with the movements for gender equality and racial equality. The white…
Have you ever made your own clothes or your family’s? When I was growing up, if I wanted to dress like the girls in Seventeen magazine, it became a necessity. My parents had little money for buying me clothing so I decided to learn to make my own. I began sewing after eighth grade and continued into my twenties and beyond. Wearing homemade clothes was ok in high school so long as you didn’t look like you did.
I have been sewing for a long time and making things by hand or machine was a big part of my youth…
Life is unpredictable. That is one thing I know for sure. Things happen and there is not always a good reason. We are left trying to figure out how to move on, to make the best of them, or maybe how to commemorate them appropriately. I had a birthday yesterday and none of my usual approaches worked.
I love my birthday. I think since I was the only child for several years, I learned to make a fuss about my birthday. It was one of those days when my parents were happy, I got cake and ice cream and presents…
I am standing in front of the mirror, giggling at myself as I blow-dry my short brown hair into a frizzy mess of curvy waves. I laugh because I am having fun, pretending to be a beach babe. I look silly and unlike my usual self but in a good way and I wonder if there is a story hidden here.
You see, I’ve never had the luxury of curly hair. Or blond hair. Mine was brown, straight and fine, laid flat against my head unless I slept on giant rollers at night to give it even a short-lived wave…
Can you recall a time when you experienced wonder or awe? Likely, when you remember such a time, you recall it in vivid detail, the moments leading up to it and the intensity of the raw experience.
The sense of wonder speaks of our hunger to be moved, to be engaged and impassioned with the world and take pleasure in it, attuned to it and fascinated by it. Grateful for it. — Gregg Levoy *
A Right Whale
We were sitting on the deck of The Suncatcher, a yellow Victorian-era house in Eastport, Maine about ten years ago. Every year for nine years…
Jean Anne Feldeisen
I've got my fingers in way too many pots. Cook, writer, poet, reader, musician, therapist, dreamer, a transplant from New Jersey suburbs to a farm in Maine.
