Last week, writing my column was an emotional experience for me as I shared the connection I felt to my mother while rummaging through some of her possessions I hadn’t seen before — notes to herself, letters she saved, religious writings she cherished and old greeting cards.

“What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”

I was a busy girl last night. After much thought and indecision, I finally completed my Christmas shopping — that is except for a couple of gifts for individuals who have failed to give me even the slightest hint of what they’re needing or wanting.

Due to an early Thanksgiving print schedule for the two newpapers I work on, I was given the gift of five whole days off from work with the holiday right in the middle of this little vacation.

This granny is learning a whole new set of words everyday as this pandemic keeps everyone close to home, and we are missing our interaction with the rest of the world.

It’s 5:30 a.m. on “hump day,” I’m sitting here in front of my laptop and my mind is pretty well blank. 

On Monday, I officially became 85 years old —halfway through my 80s.

Have you seen the latest series of commercials from Progressive Insurance?

Quest: a long or arduous search for something

"It's the first day of autumn! A time of hot chocolatey mornings, and toasty marshmallow evenings, and, best of all, leaping into leaves!"

I’m a radio head — not a member of the English rock band Radiohead — but a devoted listener to radio when I’m in the car traveling back and forth to work four days a week.

“The fact that my entire body cracks like a glowstick whenever I move and yet refuses to actually glow is very disappointing.”

Four days a week, I drive back and forth to work — 16 miles one way from my house to the office.

Two weeks ago, I got the news that Judy, my best friend in this world, had suffered a massive stroke and was not responsive.

I’m becoming worried about an object that I own that I keep near me day and night in spite of the fact that it’s beginning to spook me out.

“Introvert” — a shy, reticent person.

On my days off from work, in an effort to be doing something productive, I keep dreaming up little projects to delve into.

It’s the morning after, and I now have another hurricane under my belt.

Last Sunday afternoon, as I aimlessly puttered around the house in my nightgown — not even in my pajamas — I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was taken aback by the sight of my totally out of shape hair and the frumpy gown I was wearing that was large enough to cover my recliner.

Due to a series of mishaps, such as a truck breakdown and other untimely events, I found myself driving down Ocean Boulevard at 6:20 this morning taking my son to his job.

I’m an avid early morning fan of a local talk radio show featuring Dave and Leanne who are my constant companions during my16-mile drive to work four days a week.

Agoraphobia — extreme or irrational fear of entering open or crowded places, of leaving one's own home, or of being in places from which escape is difficult.

Who, you might ask, is Ashley Graham?

Besides immensely enjoying excellent BritBox murder mysteries on my TV while I quarantined, I have found another source of pleasure that I might never have discovered had it not been for the pandemic.

As I woke up this morning to a chaotic world, as I usually do when I’m troubled, my thoughts turned to my parents and how I wished they were here to tell me everything’s going to be OK.

On Friday, my son Jeff and I took a little road trip. My destination was Georgetown, only 39 miles from home, straight there and straight back.

I don’t know how the conversation started, but somehow this week I found myself discussing whether home economics is still being taught in today’s institutes of higher learning.

Back in February, before we awoke and found ourselves in a world that had changed overnight, my grandkids Collin and Madeleine and I were making plans for our summer vacation that would start the day after school was over for the summer.

“Gardening season is off to a great start: I planted myself in front of a TV four weeks ago, and I’ve already grown noticeably.”

My son Jeff was surprised Sunday evening when he heard me laughing aloud while a Netflix murder drama was taking place on our TV.

My son Jeff called me this morning, full of elation because he received two installments of the promised checks the government is adding to unemployment insurance benefits.

The coronavirus pandemic that is sweeping our nation — along with nearly all the other countries in world — is frightening and life-changing.

The changes to our daily lives that have recently taken place, due to the coronavirus pandemic, have been a real blast from the past for me.

Last week, I suffered through an experience that left me with burning red cheeks and a blood pressure that sent the numbers climbing.

I’m a skilled online shopper. Everything from vitamins to Skecher shoes may show up at my door any given day. In fact, a couch is scheduled to be delivered to my house tomorrow and I haven’t been near the Rooms To Go furniture store that is only about a mile from my house.

OK, it’s like this.

Recently I made a vow to myself that I would stop telling people how old I am. I had two reasons for doing this— first, I no longer get the reaction of “You don’t look a day over 50,” and second, I feel like I might be using this age thing in order to be coddled and cosseted, and a strong fe…

For an 83-year-old lady, I’ve been having a strange urge — I want to get my ears pierced again.

I took a four-day trip back to my beloved Smoky Mountains this past weekend.

In the last few months, a change has been taking place in my life — a change so slow I have scarcely noticed it.

During the 13 years since I began writing a column, several times I have mentioned the fact that expressing myself in this way is very good therapy.

Recently, during a visit with my granddaughter Jade, she told me that she especially loved one of the pictures hanging on my wall that I had painted years ago. The artist in me was thrilled that she liked the creativity of the piece, and the grandmother in me determined that I would make sur…

Hooray — this is the last week in May, which means school will be out next week and then the week after that is vacation time. I can’t wait.

Memorial Day will be celebrated Monday. Once again veterans of all ages, from many different conflicts, will be acknowledged and honored for their bravery in defending freedom for the citizens of our great United States of America.