sex and the elderly

I took a shower and went up to Bill | My Grandmother’s sex life

My grandmother tracked everything. Who needs an app to track when you have sex? She certainly didn’t.

Unfortunately, my Grandmother died when I was only 17. She was 77, a few years older than my Mother is today. Complaining of fatigue for months, her family doctor prescribed more and more medication. By the time she was hospitalized, her cancer was inoperable and she had mere months to live.

But this post isn’t about the failure of her doctor or her death; it’s about her sex life. Continue reading

Writing your way to happiness | NY

I have always said that this blog has been incredibly therapeutic to me. Turns out, I am on to something (as are you!): Writing Your Way to Happiness.

It’s a scientific fact.

28 December 1998 | Throwback Thursday

My last journal entry was 28 December 1998. It’s significant because it’s the last entry I made, until I started this blog last year. It was also the only entry about my ex-husband, Will. 

Over the next few days I will post the entry, in a few parts. 

I know, I deserve to be reprimanded for this 14 month hiatus – it seems like the time has flown by! I’ve discovered that work sucks up so much time, and attempting to work and play is difficult. Ah, the adult world.

[I write a lot about work next, because I was with a company that was going bankrupt, and given the nature of what I did I had to figure out what to do next.]

The problem, of course, is deciding what to do next. I’m really at a loss. I’ve considered going back to school to do an MBA…I don’t think it can hurt…Even if I decide to do an MBA, I don’t know what to do with it. I like solving problems, and I think I’m good at working with and figuring out people. So, I do think I would enjoy a consulting job, or something in Marketing. I’ve always been interested in how products and services are marketed…

BIG NEWS IN LOVE!!! Continue reading

My holiday letter, 1998

Some excerpts from my 9 December 1998 holiday letter:

“One thing I have learned since I graduated is that the decisions I make now seem to have a greater impact on my life than they did prior. It is hard to remember that this is it – this is life, and there is nothing that still needs to happen for it to be real. We spend high school and university life reaching and waiting for the end result, the certificate which either gets hung on the wall or put under the bed. Now, in my “real life”, I don’t get a report card or certificate on a regular basis! It has been a strange transition.”

“On a more personal note, somebody very special has entered my life, and I find myself considering things that once seemed impossible or unlikely. And, everyone who has seen me says I’m positively glowing, so it can’t be all bad. I will certainly keep you posted as we take the baby steps together toward more permanent things.”

This was the last holiday letter I sent until this past summer (which I cheekily said was better late than never, and I used my holiday cards).

My last journal entry until I started my blog was dated 28 December 1998. I had been with my ex-husband since the end of October of that year. I’m writing up the excerpts now and will post as another blog entry. There are so many things I wish I could tell my 25 year-old self.


Who is Ann St. Vincent, anyway?

I’ve been told a lot of nice things lately from people who read this blog. It’s often very flattering and honestly, I find it so interesting to see myself through others eyes.

A blogging friend made a comment to me a couple of weeks ago that surely there were things about me that I don’t write about, there were things I kept hidden. I had to think about that for a minute. Sure, I don’t talk much about the following:

The work I do and who I do it for. Why? First, while I love my work, I’m not sure it would be that amusing. Although I love Aussa’s workplace stories, so perhaps I will consider it. Second, although it’s keenly important to me, it’s not the focus of the journey I am on today. Third, the more I talk about what I do, the easier it is to figure out who I am in real life…which limits my ability to write with brutal honesty. Continue reading