Reframe your own thoughts on aging. What are you telling yourself about where you are on that Ladder of Years?

Beauty and value do not disappear as we age - they are redefined.

Be where you are. You are beautiful, you are wise, you are the Queen! (or King).

The transition from preschool classroom to Grandma’s car was going great- until it wasn’t.

You know. Change is hard. Especially if you’re 3 ½ (boy, let’s call him B) or 4 ½ (girl, or G) years old.

As every parent, grandparent, or caregiver knows, things with kids can change at the drop of a hat – or, in this case, an accidental head bump with a younger brother.

John Jaramillo and I had so much fun sharing ideas, that this Book Leads podcast/show went way over the hour! Hope you enjoy listening as much as we loved chatting about leadership, books, setting and reaching goals but with a solid foundation of what really matters in the big picture of your life:

Let’s say you want to reach for the stars, attain that audacious goal, drive a BMW.

There are lots of books and workshops that teach you how to visualize those positive outcomes, face your fears, walk over those hot coals, get yourself behind the wheel of that fancy car.

Wahoo! But – wait.

Losing the tv remote can be a good thing. (Really, we didn’t fake it.) The morning was more creative, less argumentative, and they “forgot” to have the morning snack they usually think they need.

When I left Morning Radio, I swore I would never wake up before the sunrise again.

I’d earned it. 3:15 AM for eight years, seriously?

Yet here I am, coffee in hand, watching the sun rise through the trees outside my kitchen window.

I think I recognize the eyes and the hair. Is that my friend Beth behind the N95 mask? (One of the all-too-familiar new brain tasks in our Covid-19 world.)

Yes, it is Beth, and we carefully hug each other hello (faces pointed away to avoid germs, sheesh) in the supermarket aisle. It has been way too long.

I really miss seeing people’s faces and hugging without fear. Sigh.

“Randye, I really hesitated bringing up the topic of happiness tonight, because of your book. I don’t want to negate your message.”

Those words, from the leader of our Mussar study group (I’ll explain later) last night.

I so appreciate her concern, but immediately move to set the record straight.

Happy New Year! If you feel like you’ve already let yourself down by not yet making any Resolutions for 2022, you can opt to give yourself a break.

I waited at the school bus stop for E, my oldest (Kindergarten) grandchild, and looked forward to the huge smile and hug she always gives when she sees it’s me meeting the bus today.

This time, though, I got a consolation hug and a small smile. No running into my arms. No “Hi, Grandma!!!!!” . Instead, E handed me her backpack and walked four steps ahead of me to be with the two older girls who live across the street.

Last week I experienced my first panic attack. Ever.

At least, that’s what the internet says it was.

All I know is: my body took over my brain. My heartbeat was too fast, too loud, too strong. My limbs were trembling. My mind and my heart were both racing; nausea took over my digestive system. I was one step away from asking my husband to take me to the Emergency Room – but I had no idea what they could have done for me. I would have voted for temporary oblivion.

68. And a half. That's my age number, and I'm proud of it.

Or at least I'm working on it. Constantly.

My little grandkids will announce my age number loud and proud to anyone in line at Stop and Shop - so why does part of me cringe when they do?

I had a day on Sunday. You know, where I just couldn't shake my sadness the way I usually can.

Ever have one of those? (If you say no, then you may want to check your pulse.)

As a "happier" writer, and the person people seem to seek out when they want a more optimistic perspective, it isn't easy to fall into the occasional hole of a less-than-stellar mood.

Well…is anything ever really complete? (*sighs* started with a disclaimer…no-judgment zone)

As you may be aware, this year I opted out of New Year’s Resolutions (okay, opted out again) and chose instead a try-and-see approach simply by choosing a word for each month, no pressure, and seeing what might happen.

Ten years ago, I auditioned to play a role I’d performed twice before: Nancy in Oliver. I didn’t get cast (it had been a long shot, age-wise, but hey). The role went to my friend Amy - who was, to be fair, much more suited to it. Not only was Amy 30 years younger than I am, but she actually looked the part of the underfed, abused waif that Dickens’ Nancy probably was.

Why did Amy look so thin?

I'm not a huge interpreter of dreams, but last night's was a doozy. My home was about to fall into a sinkhole. ( What ?!?! )

So I had to climb onto the roof, leaving behind all I had worked so hard to create. Carefully chosen wallpaper, brownies baking in the oven - all abandoned; I climbed up, nearer to the sky (with a friend, identity unknown) as the house drifted into the water (I guess I had scored a waterfront property in this dream, wahoo) - destination entirely unknown. No map. Just safety from disaster, and no choice but to trust that we would land somewhere. Somehow. And eventually we did land - on an island where my family was among others waiting to share this new experience.

Screw New Year’s Resolutions. Especially this year, unless the resolution is to just, well, stay alive. (Stupid Covid.) I can’t remember the last time I made a resolution, anyway, since my higher self knows they only make it until mid-January at best. Then it’s another whole 11½ months of Oreos buttered popcorn, and guilt until we “resolve” again.

Bah! Humbug! to New Year's Resolutions.

I mean, seriously, have they ever really worked for you? If so, then you are a stellar human being and - seriously - I applaud you.

So this is for the rest of us.