A Year to Change: Conversations with women on choice, connections, and clarity in midlife

This afternoon my brawny stagehand son was teaching my brawny Marine nephew the finer points of whipping cream by hand for the strawberry shortcake that was their grandmother’s birthday cake.  My almost-daughter-in-law and I just got out of the way.

While the “boys” were whipping cream, my now 76-year old mother was on the deck explaining to my ex-husband, my brother and his wife that the ducks that currently inhabit her waterfront must be homosexuals, since there are no female ducks.  This - of course - does not explain the appearance of baby ducks.  She doesn’t have any problem with that apparent contradiction in her thinking. 

My Donald is working in Detroit at the moment.  I hope that when I tell him these stories, I can give them a “you were there” feel!

Clearly not the Cleavers.