Happy Heart-o-Ween!

October 31, 2013October 30, 2013 ~ Carolyn Thomas ~ 4 Comments

hearts

Just some of the 23,000+ polymer clay hearts created by pediatrician Dr. Ron Lehocky, (known to his young patients as “Dockily Hockily” – but also answering to Docky-Hocky, Doctor Ron, and Doctor Little Hocky). He’s been working with special needs children since 1974. Sales of his unique hand-made heart brooches have raised over $100,000 for the Kids Center for Pediatric Therapies in Louisville, Kentucky.

♥

Happy Heart-o-Ween, my heart sisters! And remember that dark chocolate (well, okay, in moderation!) is good for our hearts!

hugs,

Why I decided to start loving my grey hair

August 3, 2013November 23, 2025 ~ Carolyn Thomas ~ 48 Comments

by Carolyn Thomas ♥ @HeartSisters

When I saw the finished product after a photographer took new head shots of me last September, my first horrified reaction was:

“Good grief!!

“Where did those wrinkles around my eyes come from?”

And no wonder. Let’s face it: gravity is no friend to women of a certain age. Little jowly pouches begin to sag below what was once my strong jaw line. Eyelids droop inexplicably southward. And where once I could bounce a dime off each tricep now hangs delicate crepe paper-like flab. Continue reading “Why I decided to start loving my grey hair” →

Why I’m nothing like – yet just like – my mother

May 11, 2013February 2, 2020 ~ Carolyn Thomas ~ 16 Comments

by Carolyn Thomas ♥ @HeartSisters

www.myheartsisters.org A few months ago, my favourite son Ben and I stopped by the annual fundraising luncheon and sale of Ukrainian tchotchkes – цяцьки – at St. Nicholas the Wonder Worker Ukrainian Catholic Church. (Ukrainian churches here in Canada often have fancy-schmancy mouthful names like this: Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary Ukrainian Catholic Church or St. Demetrius The Martyr Ukrainian Orthodox Church, or those simply named for obscure saints you’ve likely never heard of – like the churches of St. Paraskevia or St. Onufry).

We sat doing some first-class people-watching and borsch-eating while observing the women cooking, talking and laughing together in the church kitchen. I was struck by an intense frisson of nostalgia. “These are my people!” I whispered to Ben. And as I said that, I had a strange and unbidden craving for a piece of pie. Continue reading “Why I’m nothing like – yet just like – my mother” →