It’s been a while since I’ve written on the blog, and I have to say that I feel like a fraud.

Why?

Well, after a pandemic year of stress, I find myself right back up there in the weight department. All those great bits of advice I gave in my forties seem to have no bearing at all on my now 51 year-old body! It’s as if aliens abducted that woman and replaced her with a flabbier version of me.

Oh, I know. I need to cut myself some slack. And I do. But it’s still hard to read those posts and look at those photos from just four short years ago. Where is she? How can I get her back?

Perhaps those aren’t the right questions for now.

The past year has impacted everyone in many ways. For me, I was considered an essential worker (selling wine, of all things) and continued to report to work. Every day! No working from home for me, which I jealously longed to do. In the beginning there was fear of the unknown – with masks and gloves and not knowing exactly how I could catch this thing. And there were rules, so many rules to enforce on customers and staff alike. The stress took it’s toll, and soon bad eating habits re-emerged.

And then my son did the bravest thing – he moved to Illinois to pursue a PhD in Chemistry! I’m so proud of him, and his decision to make the leap in the middle of the pandemic, but I also miss him. A lot!

So what’s a middle-aged, empty-nester woman to do? As I face this new phase in my life, I think of all the women who have navigated this before me.

The Change, they call it. Oh, it’s a change all right. In more ways than one!

But here I am. And writing seems the only thing that makes any sense right now. Perhaps a shift in subject matter is in order. I’m not the person I was four years ago; and that’s okay. I envision less advice and more sharing. Compassion and cooking. With a little frugality on the side (because some things never change).

I hope you’ll stick around for the companionship and conversation…