Even though I am not a father, I was out enjoying the day.
Here’s my day in pictures starting with this father playing in the sand with his little girl. It was a lovely day.
It was wonderful seeing the many diversions dads and families were engaged in.
I had a video, but sadly I didn’t know how to include it. 🥺
I hope all you father’s had a good day!
Miss Brennenstuhl. My forever favorite teacher. How I even remember how to spell her name is a miracle in of itself. Up until junior high, my teachers would be female.
Miss Brennenstuhl was my 6th grade teacher. She had blonde hair and wore glasses. She was quite angular and thin with long legs. She wore shirt waist dresses with flowing skirts. Her full lips covered a slight overbite and she kept them painted with bright red lipstick and I remember she smiled easily. Oh, and she smelled nice. Was she pretty? I don’t know, but to me she was old, but she had to have been at least 40 and I think I was more fixated on the noticeable amount of makeup and the stylish clothes she wore. To put it simply she was put together quite admirably. Why that impressed me, I have no clue. I was a tomboy. When she wore her hair down, it was slightly longer and fuller on the bottom than Marilyn’s here but same style. Her makeup almost exactly the same. When her hair was up, she was classy.
She was what one would have called, in those days, a spinster. An unmarried “older” woman over 30, yet looking not unlike the above pictures. She wore yellow often.
At times, she could be quite stern and because I was the child that was generally on any teachers bad side, I wasn’t on hers. For some reason, she took to me. Perhaps I was her challenge for the year. The one she made it her goal to impact positively and she did.
School had not been easy for me. In kindergarten, I remember having a teacher, who did not accept that when I asked to go potty, I meant it. I think she thought I was fooling around in the john. Perhaps there were some kids who might have, but I really had to go. Often.
One day, just as we were getting ready to sit on the floor to have our lunch, I asked to be excused, she said, “No”. A few minutes later, she was having to buy lunches for the kids who were unfortunate enough to be sitting near me. From then on, she never said “No”. But she also penalized me for it by holding me back and making me go to pre-first, because I guess lacked the maturity and discipline to move on with the rest of my class. That was such a disappointment to me, but after awhile I made new friends, but I never got over feeling as though I wasn’t good enough.
Then in second grade. I was always getting yelled at and I was always crying and I remember how this teacher could barely look at me and I’d start crying and because she always made me cry, I then got tagged with the moniker “Howling Coyote”. She must have been pretty intimidating and scary to me for whatever reason. But, I was always in trouble in that class and I can’t remember why. On the playground, a young roundish Mexican boy name Bobby Gonzalez would be my worst tormentor and others would then follow suit.
Mrs. McConnell, third grade was of Japanese descent married to an American. I remember her name because it didn’t fit her looks. Behind her back, I recall kids making racial slurs and comments. In retrospect, she was probably as American as I am as well. There was definitely no accent. She was stern, but I remember learning, the alphabet and how to form my letters properly with her. In her class is when I would learn to read so she was okay. I loved reading and penmanship and because of her and the teacher that followed, I had beautifully formed letters. Of course, I know I wasn’t the only one with good penmanship because it was stressed to us in those days. Sadly, this would not continue because as the years have past, young people today can hardly write cursive at all. I noticed too that girls were generally better than boys at cursive and boys tended to print better. I knew a few boys who could do both equally well, but that wasn’t the norm.
I remember my 4th grade teachers vaguely. That year I started out the year in Alabama and finished it in California. My 4th grade teacher had also been my fathers. I think her name was Mrs. Foote. and then I had Mrs. Newman in California. Nothing terribly exciting there except again, Bobby Gonzalez. He quit calling me “howling coyote” but would tease me about my newly acquired southern drawl, exaggerating it by just calling out “y’all”. Why he hadn’t noticed my accent before I don’t know other than perhaps it got stronger that year I was away.
School districts were divided and Bobby would be no more until junior high. These next years were when I remember learning about and growing fond of the library.
My 5th grade teacher was also strict but I’m not sure fair, perhaps she was but I couldn’t tell. I know I wasn’t a favorite. Sometimes I thought she liked me fine but at other times not so much. However, she was the one who discovered I could draw when she asked all the kids to draw a picture for Veterans Day, in addition to writing an essay to go along with it. She would then enter it in a competition. I painted a field of poppies on a hill. Myself and Alex Rapach, a new boy in school, won top honors for our art and essays. He was a great artist and always knew he would grow up to be an architect. Knowing what I know now about architects, it was no wonder, he was a natural. During recess, he would make me hanky mice, while I played jacks. He then taught me how to make them myself, a skill I have long since forgotten, but he was my first crush and because of that I was always trying to keep up. Until that year I never realized I could be good at drawing or painting. I enjoy them both, but the truth of it is, I’m just okay at it. I accidentally finish something worthwhile, but it’s rare and those all belong to other people now. Mostly because they loved them, so they were gifted. Whaaat? Isn’t that what it’s all about?
By 6th grade, our love had faded and then came Miss Brennenstuhl, who would further cultivate my artistic nature. I’m not sure I was liked that well at first because I am a talker, a fault that aggravated all my teachers actually, but we connected through my art, which she encouraged and through music and stories. She loved reading to us and she did so so well, that I was able to see those stories play out in my mind like I was there with the characters. Between those two teachers my love for books and reading grew exponentially. If anything could shut me up, it would be a book. That year I would become lost and feral in Alaska with Buck and I would learn about the trials of Anne Frank for the first time.
What connected us and made Miss Brennenstuhl stand out was dance. I think I may have really wanted to impress her because one day, I mentioned I had an Arthur Murray Way record on dancing. It came complete with diagrams for foot placement. She asked if I could bring it and I supposed I could and did. I think my mom bought it in hopes dad would learn to dance and maybe take her dancing, but I believe I was the one who got the most use out of it.
With me as her guinea pig, I say that because the one thing I don’t have is rhythm, but she was patient with me and she and I would demonstrate to the rest of the class, the steps to the Samba, the Foxtrot, box step and the Tango. I was a klutz, but I always got to be the first one to try a new routine with her. Boy did she light up when she danced and it was thrilling to see. I was quite tickled and pleased.
Another time, for art class, I drew a huge Bird of Paradise that turned out magnificently. It’s pose was similar to the second photo below but it’s tail spread like the first, it was beautiful if I may say so. She loved it and hung it up in her classroom for the remainder of the year. At the end of the school year, she asked if I would mind if she kept it. I gladly gave it to her and when I went to visit her several years later, it was still up in her room. I don’t know if anyone can relate to this, but she built me up in so many ways. Most importantly, she proved to me that she hadn’t lied when she said she liked it. Do you know how that would make a kid who got beat up and knocked around at home feel? She made me feel valued and that meant the world to me.
Later on, I would look back at the teachers I had and the ones I liked the most were not necessarily the easy going ones, but the ones that had structure. I remember a teacher that goofed off all the time in class and I nearly failed her class. There were no guidelines, I never felt like I knew what was expected of me. I remember my boyfriend getting straight A’s in her class, but not me. He was one of those that never studied either and boy was I surprised when he graduated with honors.
Since then I have figured out, judging by my son that I may have had ADD. I wasn’t stupid, just needing that structure. I remember when we moved to a different area, the school he would have been assigned to would be open concept, a no walls classroom. So we drove him elsewhere, we knew he would never be able to focus in that environment. Even to this day, I’m a tell me what you want and don’t beat around the bush kind of girl, because if you don’t make it clear, you can bet, I won’t get it. I’m also the gaze out the window kinda girl, easily distracted. I’ve gotten better, but it wasn’t easy growing up.
If you were to watch me clean house, you’d see that in action. If you remember the diagram of Billy in Family Circus, taking the long way to get from point A to point B? That’s me. I’m sure I’d make the average person dizzy watching me work. But… I get the job done and I can be OCD … I like a place for everything and everything its place.
Have a good “Lockdown Day”! Be kind to someone and give them a call or just say “Hi”
I caught my neighbor outside yesterday and we yakked for awhile. He lives alone, so imagined he’d be lonely, so from 40 feet, we talked, keeping our social distance. I think he appreciated it.
My sister was found to have a mass on her brain, (yesterday). She goes back in today for an MRI with contrast.
I am so sick about it.
She’d been losing her sight and it all came on within the past few months. I suspected something wrong because she was tired a lot. More so of late. 
She is my baby sister. She was the one who left her job and came out to Alabama to help me take care of our parents. It was hard at first and we at times fought. If you can picture 50-60 year old’s fighting.
She is/was a massage therapist and into natural remedies which is why she only went to her acupuncturist and chiropractor, seeking a “natural”solution to whatever was ailing her. Now, that I think back on it, she has complained for some time that she had not been feeling well. She thought it was a mold issue. (She lives in Florida) She complained and yes, there was mold in her air conditioning and her landlord took care of it.
Even so, she’d been complaining about an overall not feeling well and we’d make jokes about how it sucks getting old. I still kept insisting she see a doctor. I told her that I understood her wanting to go natural, but sometimes it’s valuable to find out what is for sure going on and if there’s a natural course of attack, then she can make that decision. She “said” she agreed with my reasoning, but she kept putting it off.
What was interesting and I mentioned this to her, if her cats got sick she’d take them to the doctor and spend whatever necessary. She always came second.
For a time, I talked to her less out of sheer frustration. I didn’t want to hear about the acupuncturist and chiropractor. Please understand, I have nothing against them, but I just suspected more. I wonder too, if they had not recommended the same, because many do and will, but she wouldn’t say.
She finally said she had gone to the doctor. I discover yesterday that she went to a Lenscrafter optician. When she told me about her visit, she made a joke about, “Hey, you know the big letters on the eye chart? Well, I can’t even see those! My eyes are really bad.” He did recommend she see a specialist but then she said well, I haven’t heard back from him with the referral he would recommend. I suggest she call him. She never did. She said, no $$. She is on Medicare, but had not gotten the supplemental insurance and she was no longer working. If you know anything about massage therapists, they are independent contractors with no benefits whatsoever, so of course no retirement income. She said she had put some money away, but says, she doesn’t know where it went to. She wanted me to come out. She asked me often. I wanted to but wouldn’t go.
These are my reasons. If I’d gone out, it might have resulted in a vacation and that would have been her reasoning. Excuses. I’m not an awful sister, but… I knew if I did, my time would be limited and I knew I’d be spinning my wheels, not knowing the area and trying to find what was available. I don’t know people, services or doctors there and at the end of the day, nothing would have been accomplished.
I kept insisting she call her “boys” and let them know what was going on but she wanted me to come out. I dug in my heels. She kept saying they had busy lives and her daughter in law had just lost her dad and a few years before, her mother. No, she didn’t want to put that on them. Her boys are busy, with sports and raising kids. One, has a girl in college on a sports scholarship, I think she said, another in high school. The college student would come on occasion and help her with things. The other son has little ones. Both “boys” are busy. Well guess what? She broke down and told them and they aren’t too busy to help their mom and they are the reason she is getting help. They know the right doctors. They got the referrals and are taking care of business… and in short order.
Because she couldn’t see, she had possibly mismanaged her bank accounts and they’ve had to step in to help with that. Everyone is getting involved.
The daughter in law said they’d seen her not that long ago but she behaved “normally” so they were unaware. She is not a complainer, so she never said a word to them. Even when she spoke to me, she didn’t actually complain. So when she finally did let them know the extent of her vision loss, they immediately got her help. Their doctor, did not order the tests right away because she had been taking so many herbs and potions, he said they would cloud the tests and he wanted to wait until they were out of her system before doing blood work. Now, I wait for more.
Before the MRI, the “kids” asked for our family history. I sent that to them. Before the MRI, they said the doctor had indicated she was depressed and they thought she had begun to be forgetful. Depression can do that too. Just in the last couple of weeks, I had noticed a turn. She was sleeping more and I reasoned that perhaps that was why she was losing time. She would forget things. She kept talking about how I was going to be there in a few days after I had explained I would come in October. She forgot. THAT IS NOT HER. She was once a bookkeeper at Disney World. She knows computation.
The doctor gave her simple equations and she could not compute them. She got angry with him for asking her to “think”. 
I am writing this because for the last few days I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster and I don’t know what to do.
I lashed out at hubby. I hugged hubby. So glad I have hubby.
I feel ANGER. I am so angry. Angry at her for not going to the doctor when I suggested and how so like dad that was. Stubborn and rebellious. How could she do that to us? I am the eldest and yes, I can be so bossy! I know that, but it doesn’t make me wrong. Why didn’t you go? I CAN’T LOSE MY BABY SISTER!!!!
Then there’s the GUILT. Why didn’t I just go over her head and enlist her boys whether she liked it or not? I know why. I just never guessed it was that bad and I am feeling guilty for not having known. I want to scream!!!
And, SAD. I am so sad. What if it’s not a slam dunk remedy?
PAIN. It hurts so bad. My emotions are all over the board.
Last night, I kept remembering all the good times she and I shared in our misery taking care of our parents. Our parents had been difficult our whole lives. We marveled at how well we had all turned out despite the abuses. She is a beautiful person and an artist and I know she’s not dead, but with the my back log of clues, the evidence may have been there longer than we knew… I don’t know. I know as we grow older, it is inevitable we lose people we love. It’s all part of life.
I call the family on this side of the country to let them know. I called my son in Texas only to learn he lost one of his best friends this past week of a brain tumor. He was 38. I guess age doesn’t matter.
Can I be royally pissed? Certainly, but I forgive her. She is sweet and loving and probably never imagined it was that bad. I sometimes wonder if children of a hypochondriac parent put off things for fear they may be parroting them?
Spread throughout this blog are pictures my sister has drawn, using crayon. It is Crayon Art which she has won awards for. I love them.
What is Christmas?
It is something to consider when the focus off and on for some waivers between gift giving and receiving.
The most memorable Christmas I can recall and one I’ll never forget, was one I had with my sister not that long ago.
I know everywhere around the world, somewhere, there are people celebrating Christmas. What a joyous time of year it can be.
WHAT IS THE WHY?
With it having become so commercialized, we all struggle with having to remind ourselves of what it’s really about. It is a time to be reminded that over 2000 years ago we were given the best gift ever, the promise of a new King, our redeemer, Jesus Christ.
It wasn’t a baby Jesus that would bring about our redemption, but the grown up Jesus fulfilling a promise to His Father that would change our lives. But lest we forget, it had to start somewhere. Though the exact date is unknown, his humble birth came around the time we now refer to as Christmas. He was our gift first with a promise.
Do we remember?
CHILDREN AND GIFTS –
I’ve read many posts that remind us that it isn’t the gifts that make Christmas. Is that what we are teaching our children? How do they see Christmas?
Is it a tree with lots of sparkly lights or the presents under it?
I remember one year I took three gifts for each of my grand daughters to my daughters house for Christmas. It would be the one and only time we would celebrate with her in laws. As I came through the door, my grand daughters came running up to me and gave me an immense hug and said, “I love you grandma Jo!” We placed our gifts under the tree to open later, for when the other grandparents arrived. They were late and of course, the girls were getting antsy waiting for them to show.
After some time, their father relented because well, it was Christmas morning!!
Excited, the girls opened our gifts first. The oldest got a Barbie, a coloring book and crayons. The younger one an age appropriate gift. My boys were still young at the time and I’m guessing they probably got Z-bots or Transformers, since that was the rage at the time. (There was 12 years difference between my girls and my two boys.)
They thanked us and gave us each a big, warm hug.
Just about then, the other grandma shows up and the girls rush over and say, “What did you get us?!” Not hello, or Hi grandma, just “what did you get us?”. Grandma is followed in by Grandpa, who is loaded up with a boatload of gifts, making several trips and I’m not exagerating. The grandma says, “This is only part of them, the rest are at our house under the tree for when you come over later.
The girls then proceed to tear into their gifts excited at first, but after the first two Barbies and/or outfits, package after package is ripped open and the item thrown to one side as they moved on to the next one, barely looking at any of them. My boys just stared in shocked amazement. Besides dresses and other girlie things, there was a total of 13 Barbies for each grand daughter. Yes, thirteen! They were barely six and three years old and as she said, that wasn’t all the gifts!
I was nauseous. How would my grand daughters ever learn to appreciate anything much less the reason for the holiday? That was the last Christmas we attended with the other grandparents. We would from then on take turns for either Christmas day or Christmas eve.
LESSON LEARNED –
My boys are now grown and so are the grand daughters. My one son has a family now and last year we visited them in Texas. It was February and I noticed several Christmas gifts still wrapped on the window ledge. I looked at him quizzically.
He said, “Mom, they got way too many gifts last year. I didn’t want them to do like the girls and not have a sense of gratitude. We let them open a few gifts at Christmas and save the rest for later. It is their reward for extra good behavior (he smiles), it’ll be awhile.” Smart man. Remember, this is February and there were still several unopened gifts, I can’t imagine how many they started out with. Thankfully, that Christmas many years ago had left it’s mark.
CHRISTMAS OR NOT CHRISTMAS –
Because it has become so popular and commercialized, there are people who don’t even believe in Christ that will celebrate Christmas or some semblance of Christmas. Does it matter? To some Christians, it probably does. For others, it only strengthens their resolve to stay focused on what it really means.
My mother in law, for example, claims to be an atheist and celebrates with lights (no tree) the winter solstice. I know she’s not alone in this, I’ve heard others make the same claim. She is quick to remind me that for her, it is the winter solstice. I could make a big fuss and lose the relationship we have and never get a chance to “win her without a word” but I choose not to. For now, it is what it is. She’s a good person and a good mother in law and in time, who knows? I can only hope, by my example, that one day she will come to believe.
SOMETHING IN COMMON
One of the things I found interesting is that she and my sister who is a Christian, have a commonality when it comes to gift giving. They give from the heart.
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE HEART-
One of the best Christmases I ever had, was one I celebrated with my sister while living in Alabama. I’d moved there with my hubby to take care of my aging parents who were no longer married to each other and living in separate homes. Actually, mother was in a facility for a short time in Tennessee until I could bring her down after my step fathers demise. At times, it had gotten to be too much for me with mother’s Alzheimer’s and dad with cancer. I was going back and forth handling both their financial and medical needs, still working and going crazy doing it. Di and I were in contact regularly during this time and I guess I was sounding pretty wore out. She says, “Jo, if you need me to come, I will.”
I didn’t want to put her out. She was single and her sole source of support. I couldn’t promise her a rose garden (or maybe it was, thorns and all) and it meant she’d be giving up her established job to help me. Each time she asked, I hemmed and hawed until one day, I realized I wasn’t “Supergirl” and said, “Yes, I need you.”
She packed up and quit her job, leaving sunny Florida for northern Alabama in what felt like one week!
She took the day time shift and I would do nights. Hers was more difficult. The estate would pay her some, according to what the courts would allow. It wasn’t much but she was okay with that.After paying the bills she brought with her, there wasn’t much left over plus she had no time to spend it anyway. Needless to say, that Christmas, money was tight.
I had bought her a scarf, a warm hat and gloves because Alabama can get cold. Even though it’s “south”, it isn’t Florida.
I opened my gift in a decorated brown paper bag. In it was a couple of pencils, a handmade card and an orange. I cried. It was the best gift ever!!! It was so “Little House on the Prairie”ish (if you’ve read the books, you’d understand). My heart overflowed and she was delighted.
So what is Christmas? I see it as a continued opportunity to share our love. It’s a reminder of the greatest gift of all.
It is giving to others with the same unselfish love that was first shown us. The love God showed when he sent his son to us. The self sacrificing love Christ showed in giving up his life so that we might live.
Christmas is about giving of self, giving when we think we have nothing to give. Teaching our children that the best gifts are those that come from the heart.
LOVE COVERS ALL
Di’s coming to help saved my life. I had a mini stroke shortly after she arrived. It may have been a release from the stress I’d kept bottled up those three years trying to do it alone. Perhaps her being there allowed me to collapse, knowing she would take the reins until I was better. Together, we got through it and when one of us was down, the other would lift her up and so it went until both parents passed. There is no greater love than the love that causes someone to pitch in when they have little more to give.
CALIFORNIA to FLORIDA
I’m in California and she is back in Florida now and it hasn’t been easy for her. At our age getting reestablished can be tough, but her kid’s and grand kid’s are there and that means the world to her. They shared her with me for awhile and even though I’d love to have her here, I know how much it means to have your kids close by. I miss my kids and grands and Christmases with them with all of us in four different states and none of us that close. At least she gets to see her kids regularly.
What can I say? The love I have for my baby sister is abounding and I miss her. I love you sis and I thank God for giving you to me!!!
That’s us in costume. Di may be shy but it was she that talked me into belly dancing after mom died. Oh what fun we had. We made and accessorized all our costumes with yard sale material and gems (of course). Later, I would follow and support her in her art. Art was an outlet that came out of her stress. She began using pen and crayon to entertain mother. Her first few were on scraps of paper, but I was so impressed with her work that I framed some and the next thing you know we’re doing art shows. We are a team.
I am including two links that I’d love for you to visit.
The above has her version of our story with mother. Keep in mind, our stories may vary slightly. She wrote hers closer to the actual event, whereas mine is by memory which is now six years past.
I highly recommend her book “The Importance of Thomas”. It is a heart warming story about a small kitten that came into our lives on Christmas Day and his role during an unusually hard time for us. Now available through Amazon.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Importance-Thomas-Diana-Beatty/dp/1498450393
Thanks for following and a heartfelt and MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!
In Oceanside where I live, we have a pier. It was told to me that it was the longest pier, but it’s not. I think someone got it confused with the Ocean Beach pier, which is only the longest in the county at about 2,000 ft. whereas Oceanside’s Pier is 1,942 ft. Pretty close. No matter, it is still cool. In fact, if you can, catch it at different hours of the day and seasons, the varied exposures and settings can be truly amazing, whether you shoot in color or black and white. At the end of the pier stop by Ruby’s for great hamburgers and milkshakes. I go for their cones. Yum!
Two blocks from the pier, each Thursday, we have a market day. In the morning there is the Farmer’s Market, presenting produce from local farmers. In the evening is the Oceanside Sunset Market, offering foods from all around the globe, artisan booths and music and the local bars remain open for imbibing should that be your choice.
Oceanside also boasts as being the location where several films have been made. The “Top Gun” house is still there, though looking pretty shabby. 007’s Diamonds are Forever was filmed there and at the pavilion located at the pier’s base is where the “Bring It On” cheer leading finale was filmed.
That’s our Oceanside.
Today’s featured picture is done in the style of Moises Levy. Then, one could perhaps say it is like Alin Ciortea, who is actually more famous for his nudes. I mention two, more to introduce you to new artists that are known for their black and whites. Alin is from Romania and Moises from Mexico.
http://www.moiseslevy.com/index.php?accion=biografia
Please check them out:
This week, publish a post in the style of a writer or artist you admire, or in the style of another genre. You don’t have to write about politics or current events to give this a try — you could just as easily:
Publish on any topic you’d like, but with a new lens — who knows what you might reveal?
The pier at dusk and shot further back, closer to it’s entrance which gives you a better perspective of length and me walking my dog with the pier in the background. Fun times!
I’m going to keep this one short and sweet in honor of all the women in my family who’ve reinvented them self late in life.
First, I salute my sister Diana.
My sister Diana, who with me found the stresses of caring for our aged and dying parents quite trying at times. It forced us to find ways to grow and be better than we once were.
Di found that drawing would calm mother as well as herself and she developed her own unique style of crayon art
and from there she wrote her first book “The Importance of Thomas” which reveals, as told to her grand kids, her journey with me in caring for our parents.
Second, My daughter Andrea:
My daughter Andrea, who just started writing her own blog, I salute as she embarks on a new career which is growing stronger everyday.
At 34, she went back to school and was the first girl in my family to finish college and get a degree. You can read her story and goals at the link that follows. (Actually, Diana was the first in my family to finish college, but of me and my girls, Andrea was)
Her blog: http://usmountainstandard.com/about
Third, I salute my daughter Tina
Now, my firstborn Tina, married at 17 and didn’t even finish the last 6 months of school thinking marriage was her destiny, At 45 she found herself evolving.
Despite the fact that she didn’t start her family until she was 29, my former 3.5 grade point average student took her time getting that GED.
I only list her third because she is only now starting her journey.
At age 47, she started college and is now waiting to be admitted for a nursing degree, which I don’t think will be a problem with her getting straight A’s.
Both girls following in their mother’s footsteps taking strides, moving forward late in life. I guess you could call us late bloomers.
And well, most of you know my story. It’s been a rocky road but I keep on truckin’. I’m blogging while embarking on a screenwriting career.
And finally, I salute me:
My first screenplay was written with Andrea in mind, but even though her acting career took a detour, she is now back on track. With encouragement from Sean Astin and others, she has renewed her enthusiasm for film. Like me, she doesn’t know where that will end up.
With Andrea, I have just completed the first phase of a web series we hope to start filming sometime next year.
Both girls are supportive of my efforts and eager to collaborate.
Everything I’ve done I did after 45. It took three marriages for one to take and that was at 45. I raised four children, two girls and two boys and in the interim pretty much kept my dreams on hold. Now it’s my turn.
At 45, I learned to ski and…
I rock climbed and loved it. I would say it was my favorite sport. I also climbed mountains.
and at 50 I got to go to one of the most prestigious acting schools in LA, The American Academy of Dramatic Arts.
In addition, I got to learn more from LA Coach Molli Benson, Check out her site: “Specialty Acting Workshops”
At 65, after mother died, I learned belly dancing, 
It’s been quite a journey for us, but here’s to the ladies…AND we’re not done yet!
A woman who loves writing, painting, photography, and having a deep sense of being.
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