Listening to your body...
For the second day in a row I've been sick. In case you're interested in symptoms, these are mine – stomach ache, temperature 101.4 degrees Fahrenheit, headache, achy bones generally feeling like the inside of a garbage can.So I've been sleeping and eating almost nothing other than calorie-reduced cranberry juice, herbal tea, a poached egg on dry toast. Not much else. I've canceled my classes and that makes me feel even worse, but to be honest with you, wandering around a huge college where students are also sick, it doesn't surprise me that I've picked up something. Remember, I'm immune-suppressed, thanks to my kidney transplan
Storme warning...
Post Traumatic Stress has been in the news lately, triggered by the Fort Hood, Texas shootings earlier this month. We're reading more and more about suicides in the military caused by this severe, much misunderstood anxiety disorder. You don't have to be in armed forces to struggle with and suffer from Post Traumatic Stress – it can affect anyone at anytime.You may remember my friend who calls herself
A psychiatric chuckle...
As you know, on Wednesday, I attended a memorial celebration of the life of my husband's closest friend, film and television producer, director, screenwriter, and poet, Bill Davidson.
Actually, Marty was the M.C. I sat with about 40 of Bill's nearest and dearest, including his wife Mary, his two daughters, Wendy and Ann, and his granddaughter, Tabitha.
Tabby chose to read several of her grandfather's poems from a little collection called "A Baker's Dozen," that he sent to a very select group about eight years ago.
Living in the "now"...
Tomorrow afternoon, we're going to the funeral of my husband's closest friend. Bill Davidson was the most vibrant, charming, engaging man I've ever known – robust is the word I used to describe him in a newspaper story I once wrote. He never let me forget it, either. I fell in love with Bill the first time I met him about 10 years ago. He and my husband met in 1958 when he was directing a wonderful B-movie called Ivy League Killers. He cast Marty, 22 at t
Chewing the fat about Fat Talk...
On our first week at Weight Watchers, I lost 2.8 lbs. and Marty lost 4.6 lbs. On our second, I lost .4 lbs. and he lost .6 lbs. – the morning after a seven course dinner the night before.As of last Sunday, week six, I had lost 6.8 lbs. and he had lost 7.6 lbs.So on we plod, turning every meal into an exercise in higher mathematics, discussing weighing, measuring, calculating and counting the calories, fat grams, dietary fibre and points-values in every mouthful we eat. He refuses to measure. I weigh every milligram. He loses like a dream. I struggle. We're doing this fo