My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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One lucky woman

It happened again, like last time, a kind of mania when I get home; I sat at the computer for hours, blogging and dealing with some of the over 200 emails waiting. It’s like I miss writing so much, I can’t stop when I get home. Last night, I actually sat to finish the essay I was working on when I got sick on Friday, and then queried a magazine about it! And then realized they’d already said no, so had to write back and apologize. Mistake. 

Hypergraphia is a behavioral condition characterized by the intense desire to write or draw.

But this morning was reality time, old lady time, old lady with a very big belly who felt like she’d been hit by a bus. I staggered down to have breakfast and got a pot of crabapple jelly out of the fridge from John’s wife Sylvie; on the lid it said “Handmade with love.” And that was it; I started to cry and have hardly stopped all day. Everything makes me cry. My roses! The garden. Talking to friends. Thinking about the women I left behind in Room 1112, who are still there, waiting for their bodies to heal to they can get the hell out of there. 

I came out to the deck, and what I saw, with all the beauty, was everything that needed to be done. The big outside room had exploded with growth in five days. I wrote to John and asked if he might possibly have time to come help, no rush, anytime or tomorrow. “I’ll be over soon,” was his reply. I wept. We talked and talked, as we always do, and then he cut the grass, tied back the roses that were falling over, transplanted and pruned. I wept. He’s coming back Friday to do more. And now, after a day taking care of my grandsons, Nicole has come to clean, as I have no energy even to wash a dish. Yesterday Jean-Marc came over with soup, took out my recycling bins and brought them back this morning, and soon he’s coming back because the wire gate to the veg garden is stuck and I cannot move it. 

Many phone calls and emails from concerned friends.


I have a team. Without my team, I’d be toast. Cathy brought rosé, though it’ll be a long time before I get to it. Ruth came over with chocolate zucchini muffins that I devoured. Nicole brought paintings from the boys – a big sparkly butterfly from Eli. 

Judy and I had an important talk about being strong independent women who find it hard to ask for help. Not today, for damn sure! I did nothing but. But I’m going to learn to do it more often. Because I’m not who I once was. I’m more fragile, and sometimes, I need help. 

Oh yes, and I got an email cheerfully inviting me to book my second A/Z vaccine, appointments available only today and tomorrow. Not quite the right time this end. Hope they try again. 

Tonight, on the Food Channel, a program called “Cheese: A Love Story.

My view yesterday morning:

My view this morning:



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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