Here's to Happy Women...

Someone recently reminded me of my motto: “Live...laugh...love. In that order . Everything else, just throw out with the garbage.” It seems as if I had forgotten my personal maxim for a few weeks and yes, I got into trouble. As I laughed at having my own words thrown back in my face, I thought about this motto and decided to clarify its meaning so that I will not so easily forget in the future — especially when one of life’s inevitable road bumps threatens to veer me off course again. To begin with, let me explain the significance of “In that order.” In the beginning, we live. The laughter comes later. It comes from within. Finding the laughter is part of our journe y. The laughter I speak of denotes happiness. To maintain a truly happy and successful relationship — be it friends or lovers — I believe that we must have some laughter in our lives. If we are happy with ourselves — who we are and in which direction we are traveling, then our happiness is infectious. I came to this con...

A year ago, I wrote that after taking a much-needed break from long hours and deadlines , I spent a month long pilgrimage in Europe to clear my mind. I also wrote that I ultimately found the clarity and vision that I sought in my own little corner of the world — not in any far-off land . A few months ago, I began to feel as if this same corner was stifling me. Some days I felt as if I couldn’t breathe...as if I needed to escape. Was it because I no longer read as voraciously as in the past? Believe me, I tried. My own voice was so strong that I couldn’t concentrate on the written words of others. I wondered if my desire to flee was because I no longer traveled much and I longed for the diversity that had always energized and nourished my soul. I didn’t have the answer, but I did know that my view was restricted. I thought about the many wise life choices I had made in the past 12-months. Then I thought about other choices that might be contributing to my angst. For the first time...

I remember th e first day I met him. He was walking with his father and he was only three years old. He was dressed in blue shorts with a red-collared shirt. He was holding his blankie. He looked up at me and said, “Hi. Who are you?” As I answered him, his beautiful blue eyes and his long eyelashes held me spellbound. He was a compact little boy who would take several years to grow into his feet. He was always running, always laughing, and always with blankie in hand. After a few months, he and I were fast friends. He would get so excited to see me that he would throw his blankie — and believe me, that was a big deal. At bedtime, he would beg for just one more story. I can’t tell you how many times I read aloud his favorite, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie,” * or one of the many Berenstain Bears books. I remember when this little guy officially became my stepson. It was an honor. Times h ad changed since I was a child. None of my friends had step-parents. Skip forward twenty years. It...

Everyone knows the Bickersons. They might be your best friends, John and Joan, your next door neighbors, Phil and Shari, or your in-laws, Pete and Mary. The Bickersons do what they do best. They bicker with each other — anywhere and everywhere, in person, on the phone, in front of other people, and even while in bed. I find that the Bickersons don’t usually argue, or yell — or do anything physically abusive. They just bicker . Not all Bickersons are alike. The Bickersons I know and love happen to be quite entertaini ng and generous to a fault — but they do bicker. Mostly it’s pretty mild, but there are times when their bickering can be uncomfortable to be around — especially if the heat’s turned up a notch (and I do mean literally). If their bickering carries on longer than usual, someone invariably steps up, makes a joke, and everyone laughs. If you don't take the time to get to know my Bickersons, you may assume that they're headed for divorce court. Given their behavior,...