As you probably know by now, me and my friends, Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot and Shirley (or the Women Who Run with the Moose, as we call ourselves) get together once a week for a little girlfriend time. Been doing this since Moby Dick was a minnow. God, we have some laughs! Like last week, we buzz on over to the all-you-can-eat-buffet down to the Hukilau Polynesian Restaurant. We just love going there. It’s so, I don’t know, exotic. We order our usual: a couple of pupu platters, then on to the buffet for egg rolls, fried rice, lo mien, and some kind of meat on sticks (we don’t ask questions). The girls split a …

What to wear? What to have for dinner? God, I’m tired of making decisions! What time do we have to leave for the potluck? What should I make for the potluck, and when do I put it in the oven so it’s still warm when it gets there, but not too hot to handle? Sometimes, I think if I have to make another decision, my head will explode! Part of being a grownup is making decisions, of course. It kind of comes with the territory. Ever wonder why kids have more energy than we do? Stuff’s decided for ‘em! I think that’s why people hide out in monasteries and ashrams (or whatever they’re called). It’s …

After a certain age, your body changes. You and I know this to be true. The fat in your butt inches it’s way ‘round your stomach. That extra plumpness that was keeping your breast perky has headed south for the duration, taking up permanent residence on your inner thighs. Your hair migrates from where you want it to someplace else, where you don’t. Then there’s the feet. Women, like me, tend to get bunions caused by shoes that are too tight, too narrow or too high. In short, they’re cute, but impractical. Hey, you have to suffer to be beautiful, right? Men get what Charlie and his friends call “old man feet.” I don’t even …

Now usually, if I’ve got shopping to do, I try to rope in my sister or girlfriends. But shopping for a bra, that’s different. It takes concentration and fortitude. There’s no fooling around. So last weekend, off I went all by my lonesome to the Bangor Mall. To be honest, I was not in that great a mood. In my opinion, shopping for a new bra is right up there with buying for a new bathing suit. Both score very low on the ol’ fun-o-meter! So, I’m on Stillwater Ave in the turning lane, within spitting distance of the mall. I mean, I can see it. And my car dies. Yup, it goes kaput, put …