"¡Hola, Señors, Señoras, y Señoritas! ¡Bienvenido!" said the colorfully dressed instructor perched on top of a very tall stool.  Welcome, One and All, to El Studio de Salsa, Samba, So Forth and So On." The snail spoke clearly, boldly, and charmingly for all the larger animals to hear. "Me llamo Stanley, the Salsa King.  In six weeks time, you all will be dancing the salsa, samba, rumba, cha cha cha, and merengue at Thomas' and Winnie's wedding reception." Lemon meringue pie?" Guy perked up, bringing Charlie the Camel out of his reverie to nearly stumble over the alligator. "Dude!" Edwina the Egret sighed while Agathe the Aardvark rolled her eyes. The other animals giggled and snickered. "You are all nervous, no?" asked Stanley the Snail. "Yes!" his students said in unison. "Good, good. Let us channel that nervousness. I want you all to close your eyes, listen to this Eddie Palmieri song, and simp

Molly the Cat, our darling girl, looked to be considering a potential hidey hole. With the glare of the sun I wouldn't have seen her if she hadn't moved. It was a small let-me-get-cozy-in-here movement. Click.  She's such a sweet girl, our Molly the Cat.   

Quack, quack. Quack. Quack.  That's just one of our ducks. Four or five more ducks are hanging around the yard, each in their own little pen.  Quack. Quack.   

I wanted five children. It didn't matter if they were all girls, all boys, or some kind of combination. I like to think that's happening in a parallel universe. I wonder what their names are. Even today, I'll come across a name that I think is a nice candidate for one of my would've been kids. Maeve, Emmie, Sophia, Emerson, Benjamin James. . . . I like strong, happy names. So, here I am, seven months shy of receiving Medicare, childless. Every time I thought I was pregnant, several days later, hello menses. I had an irregular cycle, so I tried fertility drugs as well as acupuncture to help get my reproductive system going. The acupuncture was a trip. When all the needles were inserted, I instantly felt like my spirit sprung out of my body and tap danced on the ceiling. In the early 1990s, during the first week of vacation in Washington, I took a home pregnancy test. Yes, by golly! The First Husband and I went immediately into let's-take-care-of-me-and-the-fet

The Husband and I went to our first true senior citizen thing this morning—an event specifically catered to old folks. It was a senior citizen brunch hosted by our local hospital's volunteer group.  We wouldn't have known about it, nor gone, if it weren't for our friends, the Mister & Missus H, for which, I believe, this was also their first exclusive senior citizen event. For two bucks (you heard right), we got coffee, orange juice and whatever we wanted at the buffet table, which included scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns, French toast, steamed veggies, chicken and artichoke in gravy (think biscuit and white gravy without the biscuit), cottage cheese, peaches, and Mandarin oranges. We ahhhh'd when the gals running the show announced that the hospital had also sent over an extra treat of coffee cake for us.  Two bucks a person! Probably the last time we could buy a hearty breakfast for that amount was in the 1970s. These days, it's about $15 per pe