Tag Archives: Aging

Memory Fails Me

Posted on 02 October 2011 by Isabel Gibson

Scooping up the two aces, she adds them to her pile, her total now at 13 pairs. Turning over a nine of clubs, she puts her head to one side, making a show of thinking about her next move, but … Continue reading →

Posted in Laughing Frequently, Mortality | Tagged | 6 Comments

A Lovely Ride

Posted on 29 May 2011 by Isabel Gibson

Forget all that Mars/Venus stuff. The difference between the sexes is this: women lie about their weight, men lie about their height. I already knew about the former trait — never mind how — and a male colleague tipped me … Continue reading →

Posted in Laughing Frequently, Mortality | Tagged | 2 Comments

An Inconvenient Thermostat

Posted on 17 April 2011 by Isabel Gibson

I’m standing on the corner, watching all the toques go by–what my American friends call ‘stocking caps’–not to mention the ski jackets, gloves, and scarves. Attire appropriate for the temperature if not the season. Six months ago in Ottawa — … Continue reading →

Posted in Laughing Frequently, Mortality | Tagged | 9 Comments

The Same Age Inside

Posted on 23 January 2011 by Isabel Gibson

They are the classic young lovers, oblivious to others on the dance floor, clinging to each other as if there were no tomorrow, nor any teachers in the room either. Their grip must come naturally: they sure didn’t learn it … Continue reading →

Posted in Feeling Clearly, Mortality | Tagged , | 7 Comments