Uncommonly uncoordinated, I have immense admiration for the women who work out upstairs at the gym and contort themselves in stretches that I study as I meekly push myself on machines that offer resistance.  I’m racing against time with uncooperative muscles that won’t get me on a train I’ll likely miss. Lately, I’ve developed a curious habit of trying to guess how old these athletic apprentices are and I’m sometimes surprised. One woman who looks like she could easily join the Rockettes or at least pass the entrance exam told me she was 25. Ah, to be 25 again. But even...

My old gym in Oregon was, you could say, ranch-style. Exercise machines, stretch areas, refreshments, and a swimming pool set on one expansive level. It’s different here at my gym. We have two floors, and one can only be inhabited by women, with occasional brief visits by Alex, the owner’s wonderful younger brother, who helps us all out. The women’s floor is on top, with machines, stretch areas, and lots of chit chat. Downstairs, where men dabble with the free weights, we also have our Silver and Fit classes, which aren’t nearly as old ladyish as their name implies. Here we work...

This blog post is a sequel to “The Pigs are Coming,” June, 2017 Mama and her little sow (a sowlette?) were the first beasts enticed by the mashed lilikoi/avocado bait laced with macadamian nuts that Jeff set out in an extremely durable metal cage. So intrigued that they were led by their tummies and ignored the conspicuous metal webbing of the cage and gobbled up the entree and tripped the wire set to ensure their permanent residency, which is my way of saying that they were trapped. Two down, how many to go? Our first pig, who became known as Mama, had beautiful brown eyes and weighed...

Imagine if our birthdays showed up more than once a year!  We could have almost daily lunches at Pink Mocha Cafe, or even cozier, in the back room after chair yoga, where we’d take lots of pics and clean up our crumbs.  But there’s a quota on how many we can celebrate: one per person, based on when we first arrived.  And, January 31st is the day that our fearless leader chose to come on stage.  (Personally, I think she deserves at least five birthdays.) Kelsie’s stage is built in multiple layers. She has her desk at the front, where she sometimes rides the stationary bike and...

The warning signal chirped on our cell phones — not true … no Hawaiian birds could possibly emit such a chilling noise. (Bird reproduction would plunge as mating calls were drowned out.)  It was the same incessant beep sent out to alert us about island floods that never challenged us but jolted us out of whatever we were doing in quieter times. Mysteriously, the morning was clear and dry as could be. First, Bill’s phone at 8:06, and then mine two minutes later: “Emergency Alert… Ballistic missile threat inbound Hawaii.  Seek immediate shelter.  This is not a...

This piece is dedicated to Wanda, whose immense strength can be measured both physically and by the way she guides, who gives of herself  compassionately, and who inspires us to go further in every way. And it is also lovingly dedicated to Sachi, whose new friends in Oahu will soon embrace her as ardently as we will miss her ageless spirit.     Silver and Fit is the name of our class. Wanda didn’t name it, though she has everything to do with why at 11:00 a loving stream of senior fitness fans troop in three times a week to her club house at Trunk Trainers, while elephants line up to...