Change is part of life – both in reaction to life, and by proactively creating the change.

Elizabeth Hamilton Guarino’s new book, The Change Guidebook, will help you do the latter.

That’s how old I’ll be (or, my body will be) in October of this year.

What?!?!?

So, yeah – I still have months left in my 60’s – but the big 7-0 is right around the corner.

And to that I say:

Yay! Wahoo!

Or I’m getting there.

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 Elizabeth Gilbert and Jen Sincero are changing my (literal) dreams.

Take last night. I had the best dream.

(Ugh, yeah, I know Not a fan of dream stories either. #sorrynotsorry.)

Why so great, you ask? (of course you do. I’m making up both sides of this conversation)

It’s common to see optimism as foolishness. Because not everything “works out”—at least, not the way we pictured it.

Our specific hopes and dreams may turn out to have been, well, incorrect.

Oh, no, not that!

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.

“Without gratitude, love cannot endure.”

This quote stood out to me in the required reading for an adult learning class on Mussar ” a traditional Jewish path of spiritual development that leads to awareness, wisdom, and transformation.” That week’s topic? Gratitude, which happens to be a vital element in Core Phrase #4 in Happier Made Simple‘s chapter about Appreciation.

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.

How I've missed you, person I meet by accident. We've been in our caves, zooming away, and hiding behind our masks for too long.

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?