Who’d a thunk it? Two things I learned from my adult children’s visit.

Hi, Girlfriends and Guy Friends.  

I’m still grinning.

A few weeks ago, my son Sean and his wife Mira traveled from Philadelphia to spend five days with us.  We had a blast.  Sean and Mira stayed at a boutique style hotel named Lodge of the Desert since our coach only sleeps two people.

Here is the weird thing.

I look at Sean and cannot believe my eyes.  How did he get to be all grown up?  AND married? And how did I get an awesome daughter-in-law named Mira?

Who’d a thunk it?

From Young to Old

My thought processes twirled this mystery like spaghetti on a fork.

For example, I recall that moment when I taught Sean how to use a checkbook, and now he teaches me how to make international phone calls on “What’s Ap”.  Our conversations used to revolve around college courses he was enrolled in and now we discuss world events and recipes for Lamb in our Instapots.

It seems like last month when I used to drive him to his baseball games and violin lessons, and now he and his wife drive a rental car to meet us for dinner.  Back in his youth, I’d pick up the check at the end of the meal, and now, the waiter delivers it to him?

More spaghetti twirls… Being a mom is a humbling experience.  You bring a new life into the world and the next thing you know they come and visit you for their vacation.

Whirlwind Tour

Here’s what we did.  We drove them to the WINDY and chilly summit of Mt. Lemon-We lunched at The Iron DoorWe viewed quirky art at the Ted DeGrazia GalleryDined on Vivace’s terrace with The Catalina Mountains as our backdrop-We inbibed craft cocktails at 47 Scott and Scott Company Bar-Hiked to the summit of Mt. Wrightson-Yup, more eating… this time at El Charro’s-And shared talks of dog ownership while getting licked by a silly Cockapoo named Penny-

Happiness is a consequence

As the title to my blog implies, I learned two things from Sean and Mira’s visit.  The first one is that “Happiness” is a side-effect.  It’s a natural consequence- and in this case of a visit well done.

You can’t strive for Happiness…it just happens…And the smile on my face reflects this.

The second thing I learned is a bit more subtle- or perhaps more of a resignation…

My spaghetti brain will always twirl as I interact with my adult son- because once upon a time he was an infant in my arms. And that’s ok, cuz, I am a mom. His mom.  And I embrace the twirl.

Who’d a thunk it?

Your Turn

Hey, Girlfriends and Guy friends.  It’s time to share your story.  I’d love to hear others talk about their relationship with adult children.  And while you’re at it, please sign up for my blog, cuz there are lots more stories coming up!

Love from your Unlikely RVing Girlfriend,


Celebrating my Wrinkles


“I put my arm into my jacket, and out came my mother’s hand!”  


Hi, Girlfriends and Guy friends,


These words were said by my sister-in-law, Jane, approximately 20 years ago.  I remember belly laughing with her as we pretended to see our mother’s hand emerge from the sleeve of our clothing.  It was easy to laugh back then.  Wrinkles had not yet become a reality.  I had 40-something hands and an estrogen balance to keep it that way for a few more years.


But now, in 2017, my skin is 20 years older.   Here is a photo of my 60 year-old hand with henna application at our son’s pre-wedding Bollywood party.  Yes, the party was a BLAST! 



Jane’s comment still makes me smile, but the words are now MY TRUTH. It is MY Mother’s hand that pops out of my sleeve.  No amount of lotion or cream will change that.  Ever.  Like FOREVER.  Since puberty my body has been slowly losing it’s Elastin- that bouncy, slinky-like, protein in the dermis, that gives skin that boing-boing when pinched.  


And guess what, girlfriends. I’m okay with my Wrinkles.  They are a part of who I am.  The Real me.  I’m not young anymore.


In fact…

Today is my 60th birthday! Woot-woot!  


When I first began writing this August 21st post, I contemplated discarding the “Wrinkle” topic and substituting a more joyful and upbeat topic.  I wondered if you, my readers, would prefer reading about the celebratory party that Johnny threw for me at our family lake cottage (yay!), and learn of all the family and friends who attended (sigh!), and salivate as I tell of the delicious king crab, pulled pork, elote, we savored (yum!), or share other sentimental thingy’s that happened.     







But then I thought… nah.  I’ll share photos from the party, but commemorate my 60th with a topic we will all have in common (eventually).    


So here’s to my Wrinkles.  Every one of you tells a story.  

I lift a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay with Wrinkled hand in your honor!


I must really like Wrinkles, because as a teen I actually accelerated the aging of my pink skin.  Here is how it happened.  Girlfriends, you may relate to this!     

Stolen Iodine



It was June of 1971 when I snuck into the bathroom of our family lake cottage. My guilty heart pounded as I exited, hiding the bottle of Iodine.  


With scientific precision I squeezed 10 orange drops into the baby oil bottle.

I knew this potion would bring my longed-for tan.  Besides, my community of pre-teen professionals had promised!  I dutifully followed my girlfriends’ advice optimistically dreaming about the results the orange oil would bring.  


My. Eventual. Tan.


Afternoons were spent lying on the dock, baking my fair skin in the sun till I was freckled and a slightly darker version of pink.


Oh.  And, girlfriends, you KNOW my what my Ultimate-Teen-Girl-Logic-Goal was?


Tan skinned girls attract all the guys at the beach. This is a fact. (If you are 14.)


This was the beginning of my aging process.  In an attempt to appear more attractive, more youthful, I (ironically) and purposely hastened the aging of my body….all for boys I never met, and was too shy to talk to!


(I wonder if the girls from Generation Z  still concoct the baby oil and iodine tanning balm?)


Friends, I could go on and on with this topic of Wrinkles…but since I have a party to attend, I am going to skip over all the rest of the hot topics related to Wrinkles.  For instance:  

But instead….on my birthday, I decided to give you a gift. A positive story about Wrinkles… 


The following tribute to “Wrinkles” was written by a 92 year-old beauty named Wanda Goins.  I am grateful for gaining permission from her caregiver, Kathryn Wilson, to post it.  Kathryn emphatically stated “Yes, please share the poem!  Wanda passed into eternity last February and would have felt honored to have it shared.”


The Gift Wrap and the Jewel

“I looked in the mirror, and what did I see?

But a little old lady, peering back at me.

With bags and sags and wrinkles, and wispy white hair

And I asked my reflection, how did you get there?

You once were straight and vigorous, and now you’re stooped and weak

When I tried so hard to stop you, from becoming an antique.

My reflection’s eyes twinkled, and she solemnly replied

You’re looking at the gift wrap and not the jewel inside.

A living gem and precious, of unimagined worth

Unique and true, the real you, the only you on earth.

The years that spoil your gift wrap, with other things more cruel

Should purify, and strengthen, and polish up that jewel.

So focus your attention on the inside, not the out

On being kinder, wiser, more content and more devout.

Then, when your gift wrap is tipped away, your jewel will be set free

To radiate God’s glory, throughout eternity.”

-Wanda Goins,

Wanda’s words made my eyes start leaking… trickling down onto my Wrinkled 60 year-old smile.