I blink and it’s a whole new year! So much has happened, and continues to happen so quickly, that it feels as if everything is happening at once… which according to Einstein, Feynman, and Hawking, it is. Which goes a long way toward explaining why I received an invitation to my 50th high school reunion this summer. That can’t be possible, I feel as if I just graduated a few years ago!

I’m pleased as punch (where did that expression come from?) to be writing this with a steady wi-fi connection in our new house. What a luxury! We closed on the 3rd, the movers arrived on the 4th, and the next day we pulled our RV to the curb and unloaded our belongings. What a sight… but our neighbors assured us it’s a common one around here! Then began the Herculean task of figuring out where the contents of all those stored boxes went.

I thought we had eliminated everything that didn’t spark joy, but was surprised to find boxes full of familial guilt. You know, the items you neither want or need, but have dutifully kept, and repeatedly moved, because they belonged to a deceased relative.

Another surprise was being reunited with things that I loved when they went into storage, and realizing that I’d lost that lovin’ feeling.

As a result of these awarenesses, we made a breakthrough decision to use my sweetie’s Grandmother’s exquisite etched glassware for cocktails, and not worry about whether it’s get broken. We realized we can’t take it with us, and our kids don’t want it.

If you also read my most recent article at 1010ParkPlace you already know that I injured my shoulder as a result of the move. I was lucky enough to see Dr. Barbara Bergin, a multi-talented woman and my new heroine! Do check out her blog Dr. Barbara Bergin because she’s a treasure trove of advice for women, delivered in a witty way, that will keep us feeling sexy way past 60! I am being mindful of my shoulder, moving it gently, and it’s healing. Slowly. Very slowly. Patience is still not one of my strong points… I can’t wait to get back to yoga and the gym.

I hope you were able to see the Blood Wolf Moon eclipse this past Sunday, the viewing conditions were ideal here, and it was out of this world! I wouldn’t have missed it for anything, but I’ve been moonstruck since I was a baby.

St. Louis, 1952

My parents always told me that I’d slap on the wall between our bedrooms at night calling them and yelling, “Moon, moon!” until one, or the other, of them appeared, bedraggled, and lifted me from my crib to carry me to the window. If it wasn’t visible, like a broken record, I kept asking “Where’d the moon go?” until they struck upon an answer that satisfied me for that night and I’d go back to sleep.

They finally moved my crib across the room, beside the window. Unused to not being wakened, they awoke the first few nights to check on me, and found me inside the curtains, nose pressed against the window, talking to the moon.
To this day, my father still affectionately calls me his Moonchild, and fifty-year reunion or not, I’m still that kid at heart!

XO Donna