Old or Older

“Which of my friends looks the oldest?”

When you read this statement, what do you think? Do you think the speaker is under 25? Over 50? Male or female? What is your initial gut reaction?

When you read this statement, are you thinking the person wants to look older? Or are you thinking they want to look younger?

Who do you think is more likely to have made this statement: my 19 year old daughter, the one who wakes up on the wrong side of 50 every day, or my husband ?

I know this is a tough one, because doesn’t it seem like we all, in our own unique way, are constantly wondering about our appearance? When you’re older you want to look younger. When you’re 19, for some unknown reason, you want to look older…

So the answer to the question is: My 19 year old daughter…

My 19 year old daughter, and her friends, are obsessed with looking older.

She asked me to say, in order, who looks the oldest and who looks the youngest.

To me, they are all beautiful: skin glowing, everything in the right place, full of life and vitality. Why does it matter how “old” they look. None of them can actually pass for 21+, which is what they are aiming for. To me, they look like the college students that they are.

So my question is: are we all eternally trying to look like we are in our mid 20’s?

Is somewhere in the 20’s the beauty ideal?

How much angst do people feel when they are 29? How many people feel like the minute they cross that plane from twenties to thirties that their life is essentially over?

I admit- 25 was a good look for me. I just started making actual money. I was on a good career path. I did look physically good… All the puzzle pieces did fit into place…

Do I wish I looked that age now?

Ok- I admit that I liked that at 25 my body didn’t creak… I would like some of the flexibility that I had back then (and I freely admit that it’s my fault that I am as stiff and inflexible as I am- news flash- want to be young forever? Stretch. Stretch some more. Exercise to keep limber- that’s the real fountain of youth)

But do I want to look 25 again?

I mean, every product on my bathroom shelf thinks age is an enemy.



Absolutely ageless






Anti wrinkle


These are the words of wisdom that face me every morning when I open up my medicine chest…

Do I want to turn back time? Or do I just want to keep up with what I have?

Do we all want to be some magical age where we are at peak attractiveness without having to keep a plethora of elixirs in the bathroom?

Do we want to walk down the street and have people think we are attractive?

Do we want people to think we are a certain age, no matter what age we are?

After thinking about all this, I can only surmise that we spend far too much time focusing on age, and aging. Yet I know I will continue to use products that want me to be ageless…

So the real question is: Why do we care so much about aging and our appearance?

When do we make the switch from wanting to look older, to doing everything we can to look younger?

I’m too Old for That

I play this silly app, Design Home (where I get to live out my fantasy of being Joanna Gaines for 20 minutes a day) and when I was voting the other day, I noticed an interesting screen name: “I’m too old to play this game”.  Now, I’m not too old to play the game, but I thought about other things I am too old to do.

  1. Wear stilettos.  Yes, I know I look hot in them, but really, standing in heels is not something I want to do
  2. Maintain my hair in it’s natural brunette state.  Vanity has precluded me from going grey, so I have turned to the shade that has more fun.  If you knew me, you would know that blonde is the last thing I ever thought I would be.  And I’ve always been fun…
  3. Be petty.  Of course, just because I’m too old for it doesn’t mean I’m never petty.
  4. Be mad at my parents for parenting mistakes, or things they did.  It’s done.  My life is my responsibility.
  5. Care what others think of me.  Frankly, you are too old for this on the day you are born.
  6. Eat after 9pm.  Seriously, there’s logic behind the early bird special.
  7. Leave the house without a list of everything I’m supposed to do, buy or see.  And list should be in chronological order.
  8. Finish a book that I hate.  I used to have this thing about finishing every book I started- it only succeeded in making me miserable.
  9. Argue with my husband about stupid things.  It’s never worth it.
  10. Accept an invitation to something because I’m “supposed to”.  Unless I can think of a valid reason as to why I am “supposed to”.
  11. Shop at Forever 21.  I realize the name implies that I’ll always be 21, but I can’t fathom shopping at the same place my daughter does.
  12. Sit in the direct sun at the beach.  Or sit on a blanket on the sand.  I like an umbrella and a chair.  Call me a Princess.
  13. Hold on to anger.  It doesn’t mean I can’t get angry (you may have read a rant or three of mine) but it does mean I have to let it go.
  14. Hold on to sadness. Same rules apply.
  15. Pretend I am younger than I am- why bother?  What’s wrong with the age you are?
  16. Obsess about my looks.  When I say obsess, I mean constantly wondering why I don’t look the same as I did 20 years ago.  The goal is to be healthy and take care of myself.
  17. Snapchat.  Seriously- anyone over the age of 30 that says they know what snapchat is, is lying.
  18. Ski.  I know I’m not too old for this, but I just don’t like skiing.
  19. Engage is discussions about politics or religion.  No good can come from this.  Everyone is entitles to their own opinion.
  20. Play tennis with my daughter and win.  Two years ago, I was able to beat her.  Winning is now a distant memory.  She is faster, stronger, and I hate to admit this, smarter than me.

Don’t worry- there will soon be a list of things I am NOT too old for!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the U2 Concert…

Coincidence.  That’s the word of the day.  I was going to see U2 last night.  New Jersey Transit was all sorts of messed up, and the Husband was going to be a train behind me. I texted him that it was just so crowded, he should just meet me at the seats.  But in a bizarre coincidence, my husband happened to get on the same car as me, and the exact same part of the car.  The odds of this happening  are…. I don’t know…I have my writing cap on now, not the math one….

After we exit the train and begin walking to the stadium, I heard my name…..I turned around and it was one of my best friends from high school.  We’re friends on Facebook, and we chat, but I haven’t seen her in 30 years.  1987.  The year Joshua Tree came out.  Joshua Tree- the album that was going to be glorified by U2 that very evening.  Coincidence.

So on a night already filled with nostalgia, I was really transported back in time.  For just a little bit, my memory was very clear.  The 80’s just came rushing back.  It was the decade when I graduated High School and College.  Got my first real job.  Became friends with the three most amazing women.  Fell wildly in love.   It was the decade when everything seemed possible.

And as I walked to my seat I looked around.  People were showing ID and buying beer, but the ID was just a formality.  It was clear we were all well past 21.  it was clear that a lot of people were wearing clothes that were old enough to buy a beer.  The crowd was moving a bit slowly, and the conversations centered around tuition bills, and retirements, and arthritis.

But then the stage lights finally started to light red, and we realized there was movement on the stage…..

And the crowd started to sing ” ‘Cause tonight, we can be as one”-

People began swaying, tapping their feet….

Standing and jumping in the air….

And when I looked into the eyes of those around me….

I didn’t see people thinking about retirement….

I saw people as they were in 1987….

Young, full of hope and full of dreams- ready to take on the world.

And as they sang side A- I mean- the first half of that album is almost perfection, filled with songs most will instantly recognize.  But if you’re going to have a tour that is centered around an album, you need to play the flip side.  The songs that you might not necessarily remember.  And the crowd- well, U2 didn’t come on till 9:20, so I’m going to say a lot of the audience hadn’t been up this late recently.  And with the average age being around 47, there were a lot of trips to the bathroom, and some muttered grumblings about the volume…..  and there eyes started to show their age again.

But I looked at the Husband, who I’d met by coincidence tonight, and met due to a coincidence 25 years ago- and I smiled.  It’s wonderful to go back in time for a little bit, to think about places, and things, and people that you may not have thought about for awhile.  I have amazing memories, of love and loss, happiness and sadness, good and bad- and I treasure every one of those moments, because they have made me the person I am today.  I don’t want to go back in time- I don’t wish I could change anything.  I’ve had a pretty great yesterday- today is pretty awesome- and I can’t wait for tomorrow.





Sorry- 35 and Older Only

A few weeks ago I read that a new club would be opening in NYC.  The theme is 70’s ,80’s and 90’s music- the clientele is 35+.  Though I’m not much of a dancer, I find this concept highly desirable.  It will be nice to go somewhere and recognize all the songs, to see dances that neither whip or nay nay.  It got me to thinking- what else would benefit from an age make-over?

Fitness classes.  In my normal Sunday body conditioning class, we’ve already sort of done this.  The over 40’s end up on the left side of the room-what we refer to as the geriatric section.  When the instructor is particularly grueling, it’s nice to have lined faces to grimace along with as we realize we can’t do 100 burpees.  It really provides motivation too- hey, if that old guy can do it, so can this old girl.

Book stores.  Now I enjoy zombie/vampire/dystopian books as much as the next guy, but sometimes I’d like to find interesting books on the first floor. Not the fifth floor. In the corner. Under the dust.

Drug stores.  I would like to go into a store that has all the anti-aging products in one section.  The other things the store could sell would be hair dye, heavy moisturizer, (frankly, products that moisturize everything), orthotics, gingko biloba, and bifolcals.  The store should also have a sign listing the most commonly bought items by the 35+ community  just in case we forget what we came in for.  And forgot our shopping list.

Clothing stores.  I would like to enter one that doesn’t play music at levels akin to the eruption of Krakatoa. ( Sometimes, for fun, I go up to an employee and silently mouth the words of what I want.  I enjoy seeing them scream “WHAAAAAT” over and over again.)

Restaurants.  I think that an awesome centerpiece would be one containing attractive flashlights.  It might look nicer than 6 people pulling out their cell phones.  Perhaps print the offerings on both sides of the menu.  This way you have the option of reading the menu of the person sitting opposite you.

Theaters.  I would like to purchase inexpensive mezzanine seats in a theater that doesn’t have stairs that feel as if I’m scaling Everest while wearing heels.

These are just a few thoughts off the top of my head.  As much as I love watching the vitality and exuberance of the Millennial generation, sometimes I’d like to mingle with the boomers and the gen exers .  They usually have higher credit limits.




What’ a superpower

When I was five I was Batman for Halloween. I remember the costume- the plastic mask, the polyester jumpsuit, the cape.  I was obsessed with the show, and at 4:30 I would race to the tv to follow the story of Batman and Robin, and watch them save the world.  I loved Wayne Manor, especially the Batcave.  I wanted to be a superhero- to fight for those who could not stand up for themselves, to make the world a better place.  And the accommodations weren’t too shabby. Those were the dreams of a young suburban girl.  I wanted to take on the world.

As I got older, things changed.  Life got hard, often a struggle just to keep up.  I was in a marriage that I didn’t have the strength to get out of, a job that was monetarily fulfilling buy soul sucking.  I felt trapped and alone and afraid – the exact opposite of a superhero- I was Unbatman.  The world around me was a mess- financial crisis, war, poverty, sickness, homelessness- and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it- about anything.  Everywhere I turned- the situation seemed hopeless, and I was powerless.  This was not how the five year old me envisioned life.  Maybe I had the Batmobile, but I sure didn’t have anything else.  This was the reality of a 30 year woman.  I wanted to crawl into a cave.

Time passed, and I got older.  I’m in a better marriage and I ditched the job for something less lucrative but more fulfilling.  My building may have views of Gotham, but my apartment more closely resembles Alfred’s quarters.  Life is still hard- I face personal challenges, as does my family.  The world- well, you know.  But I’ve changed my perspective.  I have come to realize that I can’t save the world, but maybe I can make one persons day a little better- check on a neighbor who is ill and pick up some groceries, buy a meal for the person sitting on the corner, donate books to a shelter, volunteer my time.  As a parent I can try to raise my daughter to be a good person, a productive member of society.  Maybe the ability to do something good is the real superpower.  Maybe we’re all superheroes, capable of saving the world one small deed at a time.

I don’t wear a plastic mask anymore, just a make-up one.  My cape has been replaced by a giant scarf.  (But I do wear all black, so I’m sort of a dark knight…..) And I trying to be a better person, and better the lives of those around me.  This is the dream of a middle aged woman.

Dedicated to Adam West, who will always be my favorite Batman.

A Different Perspective

Last weekend we went for dinner with some friends- a restaurant we’d never tried before, touted as Italian-ish.  Basically, it meant that pizza and pasta had unexpected flavors, such as cardamom with my tortellini (delicious by the way).   The rustic and chic place was located in a hotel which housed a rooftop bar.  It was a clear, warm-ish night, so in a fit of bonhomie, we headed up to the 31st floor.  In an outdoor space deprived city such as New York, we tend to  over occupy any area where we can see the sky above or the grass below.  But early-ish, the bar was not yet flooded with people- we even found a table.  Looking around, we saw the glittering skyline, the shining half moon- the world looked different from up there- the air was filled with possibilities.

Then we noticed the glass floor.  There was a section of the bar that had a glass floor, enabling one to see 31 floors down to the street.  The husband and friends practically danced over, begging me to come over.  I hesitated.  I am scared-ish of heights, and falling from heights. Curiosity overcame me- I slowly edged out onto the floor.  And it was incredible- to be standing directly above a city street, the see the tops of cabs and cars and people- it’s a whole new way of looking at something I see every single day.  The shapes, the colors, the proportions- everything was altered.

The husband couldn’t believe I actually ventured onto the glass- and he told that to the ridiculously attractive couple who had chosen the seat right on the edge of the glass.  He explained to them about my fears.  He also explained to them that our teenage daughter thought we were lame and old, and she was never going to believe that we were at this bar, let alone that I was standing on a glass floor.  The couple just smiled- they were the exact opposite of old and lame- chic, stylish- the kind of couple where you develop crushes  because they just epitomized “cool”.

We went back to our table and talked about how life is good, not good- ish.  Then, we heard the opening beat to “White Lines”.  For 4 people who came of age in the eighties, this was like an anthem.  We all knew the words, something most of the people in the bar didn’t, as they were probably all born post 1983.  And as we knew the words, we sang.  Not loudly, and without breakdancing, but we sang.  And we smiled and laughed, thinking about happy memories from the past.

And the ridiculously attractive woman came to our table and said:

“Tell your daughter you are neither old or lame.  You are sitting at the top of the world and singing Grandmaster Flash.  Every word.  You were cool in the eighties and you’re cool now.”

That’s when I realized- your life is how you view it.  And sometimes you have to view it through someone else’s eyes for just a moment.  Look right instead of left- up instead of down.  It’s easy to lose perspective, because we often do things by rote.  We wake up at the same time, travel the same route to places, eat at the same restaurants- look at things the same way.

So when bad thoughts creep in, or you’re just feeling out of it- look at something from a different angle.  You might like what you see.

UM- You mean me?

It’s about 11 pm on a temperate evening in NYC.  A family exits a Broadway show and the daughter goes to the stage door to try to get autographs of the amazing cast.  A weary mother walks across the street and stands in front of the Scientology Center.  As she scrolls through her emails, a young man approaches.  He is not there to harm her- he is there to chat her up……

Yes.  I got hit on last night.  By a man probably 25 years my junior.

Of course my first thought was “Whaaaat?”

I was dressed rather plainly- simple black dress (think Breakfast at Target, not Tiffany), black flats, grey beaded necklace.  I was not overly made up, and this was not Times Square of the 70’s, so I’m assuming he knew I wasn’t for hire.  I’m attractive, but I look my age-   So whaaat?

I’ve had men approach me with more amorous intentions, but they are men of my age.  OK- not my age, but older.  Much older.  To a 70 year old guy at the gym, or Barnes and Noble, I am a vixen.  But younger guys….whaaat?

Part of getting older has a lot of challenges.  The hardest one for most people is the physical signs of aging- the loss of youthful beauty.  Skin is not as bright, hair is a little greyer, lines creep up around your face.  Gravity takes its toll on your body.  I take care of myself- drink water, exercise, eat reasonably healthy, moisturize every part of my body- but I don’t do these things to look younger- I do them simply to maintain what I have.  And I don’t look 25 anymore.  I don’t look 45.  I look like I’m 53.

So why was this guy asking me out for tea?  What made him stop and talk to a woman standing on the sidewalk scrolling through her smartphone?

He was nice looking, dressed neatly.  He was able to hold a conversation and seemed semi literate.  He was not crass or vulgar.  So what was wrong with him?  Why was he talking to me?

Notice how I think something is wrong with him, not how something was right with me?   That’s what age has done to my mind set.  When I was younger I didn’t question why a man was asking me out.  I assumed he was attracted to the exterior, and then after conversing, was intrigued by my intelligence and wit.  But I always assumed the physical attraction came first.  My mind can not conceive a man in his twenties being physically attracted to me.

I’ve come to this conclusion:  my inner beauty shines brightly.  The confidence that only comes from life experience radiates through every pore and wrinkle on my face.  I am a force to be reckoned with.  It’s a good thing I’m married or watch out……Maybe maturity tops youth.

Or maybe he wasn’t wearing his glasses.





Baby Steps

As my daughter successfully navigated her way through her sophomore year of high school, my husband and I navigated our way through what I can only think of as Pre-K.  Remember pre-k?  Your child spends more time away from you.  They make new friends, learn new things-  it’s the beginning of independence.  This is basically what my husband and I experienced this past year.

For the better part of 15 years, I’ve cringed at the sound of “MOM”.  OK- not really cringed, but how many times can you hear a word before you start to dread it?  It was a Pavlovian response- I hear Mom and I stop what I’m doing and follow the sound.  But that changed this year.  I began to hear the word less and less.  I was no longer asked to help with homework-( To be fair, I no longer understand the questions she’s being asked.  When she showed me a question she had on Dante, I just laughed)  Armed with a metrocard and an Uber app, she no longer asked me to pick her up or meet her when she was returning home.  A part time tutoring job gave her a little financial independence.  Things that I had previously done for her she began doing herself.  I was proud of her confidence and her ability to get things done, yet….it was a little weird.  I now had more time to spend with the husband.

The husband?  Oh yeah- that guy I share the house with.  We had more time together.  What now?

I have friends who have already experienced empty nest, but now my husband and I got to preview it for free.  The daughter is obviously still around- we feed her and all, but she’s got her own life.  Now we had to recreate our own life.

But how to start dating your husband after fifteen year?

I tried to think back to what we did when we were dating.  Remembering anything can be a challenge, and I really wished my old palm pilot still worked so I could look back at my social calendar.   But this shouldn’t be too hard.  I mean- I talked to this guy every day….So I came up with a plan and made a list.

We’re both foodies, so I started researching restaurants.  My goal wasn’t to try the top 50 dining establishments in my city- I wanted it to be fun.  We love ethnic street food, so I picked a staple (hand cut and knife pulled noodles) and began visiting establishments that served them.  We compared our favorites, discussed why we didn’t like certain dishes.  We tried new places and explored neighborhoods we didn’t know much about.  We created new memories of just the two of us.

I read up on things to do in the city (OK- I live in NYC- there is literally something happening all the time) Pinball, shuffleboard, indoor driving ranges.  Galleries, lectures, outdoor concerts.  Instead of planning activities that we thought the daughter might like, we concentrated on things we might like.   When we were home during the week we played backgammon or darts. I’m guessing we’ll eventually take up bridge.  (My friends Mother in law said that you can’t survive empty nesthood without learning how to play cards)  It really didn’t matter the activity- it was being able to connect with one another.

We also upped our double dating game.  I made a conscious effort to plan outings with our friends.  When the kids were younger, I didn’t like socializing with friends because the outings often included children. ( I know.  I’m horrible.  But I don’t love hanging out with other peoples children.  Everyone is allowed to parent their child any way they see fit.  I just don’t need to see it)  But an “R” rated evening- maybe PG13- is always welcome.  And the husband got to see how great a wife I am.  Sometimes side by side comparison is your friend.

There is also some compromising involved.  I watch Ranger games with the husband.  (This is especially hard as I grew up in the shadow of Nassau Coliseum as an Islander fan)  He goes to video installation art with me (I’m obsessed with any sort of edited footage of different events to create a story- him- not even close).

The biggest challenge is learning to communicate without your child as buffer.  Conversing for an hour or so without mentioning the kids is often difficult.  You know how acquaintances will start discussing the weather?  Parents just automatically talk about the kids- and it’s a hard habit to break.  Each partner needs to make a conscious effort to talk about other things.  Remember when you were dating?  Remember the conversations?  You didn’t talk about kids back then- don’t do it now.

Preparing for the nest to be empty is a work in progress.  There will be bumps in the road, but we just have to figure out how to handle them.  Baby steps- a little more each day.


You Can’t Remake Your Youth

Apparently, a remake of “Dirty Dancing” was made.  I saw a commercial.  I saw some of the stars being interviewed.  What I did not see was the actual remake.  I refused on the grounds of….I just don’t want to.

I remember when the original came out.  I loved that movie.  I thought it was an amazing coming of age story.  You watched Baby learn how to navigate an adult world, toeing the line between being a teen age daughter and becoming an independent adult.  It also gave the viewer a glimpse into the historic cultural changes that were about to hit in the 1960s.

Debra Messing portrays the Mother in the remake.  I saw her interviewed.  I love Debra Messing as an actress.  She is funny and warm and intelligent, and she starred in on of my favorite all time sitcoms.  But when she talked about how you were going to see much more of the mothers story…….stop.  Stop right there.  This isn’t about the mother.  It’s about Baby becoming Francis.  That was the beauty of it.

So watching the remake was never going to happen.

I couldn’t help but wonder: why remake this movie?  This movie that people adore?

Can something become more iconic?

Or are we just trying to recreate a perfect experience?

Sometimes things need to remain a memory.  Sometimes things need to remain in the past.  There are no do overs.

When life gets tough, we often think back to “the good old days”.  We look at old pictures, watch video, reread journals…..anything to bring us to a better place.  We want to recreate the good feelings that we had.  But you can’t recreate an exact moment, an exact feeling.  A unique set of circumstances happened in a unique order to create a singular experience.  A guy walks into a room exactly when you turn your head…..Love at first sight.  You can never remake that specific moment.  That specific feeling.

You can’t remake your innocence.

The reason past experiences seem so much better is because we viewed them with less mature eyes.  Getting older is simply adding more life experience to our bodies, to our minds, to our hearts.  As each day passes we may suddenly understand something better, form a new hypothesis.  Conversely, things could get a little more confusing, add new questions to our already overloaded circuits.

We can’t remake our memories because we are no longer the people we were.


Remember the past

Plan for the future

Live in the present






Lessons I Learned at a Day Spa

For my most recent birthday, my family gifted me with a spa certificate.  The aesthetic of this particular spa is soothing water based relaxation, featuring steam, sauna, plunge pool and jetted pool. The goal of an experience such as this is pure relaxation.  Pure relaxation can lead to thinking about varying things, both deep and shallow…..So, in no particular order, are the things that pure relaxation brought to mind.

1) There is no reason to post a “Maximum Occupancy 2” sign above an ice cold plunge pool.  I didn’t see one person go in past their ankles.

2) The locker room made me self conscious.  I am not thin, nor am I heavy.  But my body has changed with age.  Since Voldemort (I’m using this word because I don’t want to use the dreaded “M” word) I have gone up a few sizes.  My body has shifted uncomfortably south.  Changing into my bathing suit in a locker room of extremely fit 20 somethings was a little intimidating.  I felt judged (and honestly, I probably was) and I wanted to scream ” talk to me in 30 years…after you’ve had a kid”) For the first time in my life I changed out of my bathing suit in the stall( to be fair, the location was practical).

3) Two cups of chamomile tea, three glasses of lemon water and the sounds of a waterfall  are not great on a post childbirth bladder.

4) The smell of eucalyptus in a a steamroom is intoxicating.  I am going to buy a dram of eucalyptus oil to sniff whenever I want to get to my Happy place.

5) Mothers and daughters visit the spa together.  I could never do that with my Mom.  First off, she would hate the spa experience.  She would not find water therapy relaxing.  She would not enjoy a massage.   But more importantly, my Mom is not my friend yet- she is still clearly trying to control any situation we are both involved in.  This wasn’t a new thing I learned at the spa- it just highlighted my relationship issue with her.  After 53 years the relationship between my mother and I is still in the rough stages.  My goal is for my relationship with my daughter will be better.  I don’t know how to fix my relationship with my Mother.

6) I don’t understand why people want you to be quiet in a loud coffee shop, but have no problem being loud in a whirlpool tub with only classical music and rushing water sounds as backdrop.

7) I found the steam room to be a little claustrophobic at first.  I almost didn’t want to shut the door because I had this insane fear that I wouldn’t be able to open the door again.  (I think I saw that scene in a horror movie) But it was also about how steamy the room was (duh)- I couldn’t see in front of me.

8) I found myself in the sauna with two men.  No, I didn’t feel self-conscious about my body (that special privilege is reserved to when I’m around women).  But I had to laugh, because I think men just always talk about sports.  I learned way more than I ever wanted to about the basketball playoffs.

9) Warm towels are spectacular.  I can think of no other word to describe drying off with a big, fluffy warm towel.

10) When the masseuse asks if there is any part of your body that is particularly tense, it’s easier to list the parts that aren’t tense.

Alas, my spa day ended way too soon.  When I returned home I found to my dismay that I was not exempt from:

1) walking the dog

2) baking brownies for a bake sale

3) laundry

4) buying peaches and eggs

5) accompanying my daughter to her annual check up

and so on……

But while it lasted, my day was perfect, for body and soul.