Sharing ‘That’s the Way It Is’ moments

Well, I’m still waiting for beautiful, sunny, hot, hot weather to make its debut.

Despite the rain and chill of recent days, I opened my closet doors and said to myself, “No more!”

Boots and burdensome footwear be gone!

My toes called a special committee meeting and agreed it was time for change, so I wore my sparkly black sandals to work for the first time in 2014.

Cue James Brown’s “I Feel Good” song. Or the theme from “Happy Feet.”

Wearing sandals came on the “heels” of having some “That’s-the-Way-It-Is” moments. Allow me to share a few.


I think my husband and my horse might think alike when it comes to how they feel about me.

Sometimes they really, really love me.

Sometimes they like me more than they love me.

And sometimes they’re thinking – “Hey, lady, get off my back, will ya’?!!”


I turned 56 in recent weeks and realized, great Earth, I am inching closer to the 60 mark and yet here I am, remarkably immature.

What a blessing.

I also realize my metabolism must be changing – and not in my favor.

Or maybe it’s just because my idea of portion control is being in charge of the serving spoons.

At the April meeting of the Woman’s Club of Wintersville, I really appreciated a reading that Barb Thermes, club president, shared. I don’t know the author to give proper credit, but it goes like this:

“Dear Diet,

It’s not me it’s you.

I just don’t think it’s going to work out between us.

You’re boring, tasteless, and I can’t stop cheating on you.”

Food for thought, yes?


I ran into a friend the other day when I was out shopping.

She was wearing flip-flops and blue jean clam diggers or capri pants if that’s what you care to call them.

Now this gal is one of those women who always looks great, no matter what she’s wearing.

And she’s just a nice person, too, which makes it all the harder to hate her just because she was sporting this wonderful tan, just having returned from beach time in Florida.

Anyway it made me realize I could spend three summers in the sun and not have one-fourth of the tan that she had.

After an encouraging, uplifting conversation with her, I went on my merry tanless way, mindful that only days earlier, I had hiked my sweat pants to my knees, nearly blinding myself in the process of having exposed my chalky white skin to Mr. Sunshine up above.

Tan or no tan, I was cheered on that shopping outing, however, when I came across a rack of clothes selling for $1.99. And there were adorable clam diggers among them, so I bought a pair in a size I am assuming will fit.

If they don’t, I can always count on those sandals.

(Kiaski, a resident of Steubenville, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at