You must be my longest work colleague ever—we’ve worked together on and off for more than 10 years now. That alone deserves a medal. In all these years, I’ve learned to admire you. Pure, sheer admiration. You’ve been strong even when the whole world around you was collapsing—and you still stood there, fighting your battles. I love how you take care of yourself, whether it’s exercise or food. You proved that a person who exercises really does have stronger bones when you had your accident. That was a big eye-opener for me—and the inspiration I needed to make myself fit. Thank you for that.
Passion at work
At 60-something (😉), your drive and passion for our work are honestly unbelievable. Magnesium intake after work or not, you move like you’re still in your 40s. And that smile of yours—it gives instant assurance.
MC, I think we really will work together until we’re properly old, just like we always say: “Den oukes is weer aan slag.”
I admire you deeply—and you are my silent (and sometimes very obvious) inspiration.
“Striving valiantly in the arena, facing challenges, and daring to try, even if one fails.” – Theodore Roosevelt
Victory is not always about triumph; sometimes, it is simply the courage to keep going, to face our own imperfections with love and acceptance. At times, life takes unexpected turns that carry us higher than we ever imagined.
Santorini. The pandemic had just begun to ease, borders carefully reopening, and after two long years of isolation, it was my first journey back into the world. The island was almost empty, its silence amplifying its beauty.
One afternoon, Jen, Ralla, and I decided to walk from Akrotiri to Emporio, a trail of about 7 kilometers. By the time we arrived, our feet were heavy, and our bodies tired. Jen sat down to rest and asked us to capture photos she could post later.
As Ralla prepared the camera, my eyes caught a beautiful church nearby. Its roof looked climbable, and I thought to myself—this could be the perfect place for a once-in-a-lifetime shot, with the caldera standing boldly behind me.
Without a second thought, I leapt, climbed, and stood tall on that rooftop. “Take the shot now!” I called out. The result was stunning: a woman standing with confidence against the wide-open sky. But what the picture didn’t show was what I felt inside—the rush of fear as the wind brushed past me, the trembling thought that I might fall. And yet, beneath that fear, a quiet voice whispered: Hold still. You got this.
And I did.
Reflection Life often places us on rooftops we never expected to climb. From the outside, others may see only strength, beauty, and confidence. But inside, we may be battling fear, doubt, or the wind that threatens to unsteady us. Courage is not the absence of fear—it is the choice to stay, to trust, to hold still in the moment and whisper to ourselves, You got this.
In the end, the most powerful victories are not in how the world sees us, but in how we rise above our inner storms and dare to stand tall—imperfect, yet unshaken.
To hold still and not giving up is the truest meaning of Victory
Silent smiles, downward winks— a pulse, a rush of something unnamed. A glimpse of love, the hush of peace, the soft sunrise of hope.
Little triumphs shimmer within this golden cage— a secret handshake, a quiet nod of assurance.
Tiny joys, quiet victories, rippling through my chest, nourishing the fragile thread of hope. I gather them— my moments, my space, my sacred souvenirs from the life that almost was.
A life shaped before I knew how to shape one for myself.
Yesterday made me realize just how much your friendship means to me.
With you, I can truly be myself, yet I’m afraid of being swept away. I want to face things on my own, but knowing you’re always there behind me gives me strength.
BFF, if I could have only one friend in this world, I’d wish for it to be you.
Every November, Claire reigns as the queen of our annual getaway. This year, she’s once again celebrated in her style, as we take a five-day road trip through the heart of Andalusia, Spain. Organized by me but entirely led by her whims, this journey is a tribute to her birthday and our shared love of travel.
For the second year in a row, Málaga is our base—a sunlit city full of energy, nestled along the southern coast.
Here, our days are filled with long walks, rooftop cocktails, bustling mercados, and endless tapas. One of our favorite spots is El Pimpi, the famous restobar partly owned by Antonio Banderas. It’s the closest we get to a brush with fame, and it’s now a cherished tradition in our travels.
First meal tapas and Tinto Verano and Cerveza VictoriaOf course she will always have the traditional picture near the wall of fame
Last year, we’d planned a side trip to Granada but didn’t quite make it. This time, however, we fulfilled our promise and ventured into Granada’s charming streets and storied hills.
Granada: A Two-Day Journey Through Time and Culture
Granada’s tranquil beauty and rich Moorish heritage made our two-day trip feel like a step back in time. We started at the Mercado de San Agustín, a bustling market that reminded us of Cebu’s shotokil tradition. We bought fresh seafood to be cooked on-site, and it turned out to be a delicious, affordable feast.
Madame Clair
The next day, we set out for the Albaicín de Granada (historically known as Rabad al-Bayyīzīn or the Falconers’ Quarter). This historic neighborhood, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is Granada’s oldest and most emblematic district. It’s where Iberians, Romans, Muslims, and Christians left traces of their cultures.
We began our day at the Mirador de San Nicolás, where we were treated to a stunning view of the Alhambra, Granada’s iconic Moorish palace and fortress. The breathtaking scenery was the perfect start to our day.
The famous Alhambra
Nearby, we stopped for tea and baklava at the Mosque of Granada and experienced the peaceful ambiance as men prayed and chanted from the Quran.
We had mint tea and Baklavas then ordered again for a latte and baklava
Afterward, we continued up to the Cuevas del Sacromonte, or “Gypsies’ Caves,” said to be the birthplace of Flamenco. The energy in this area is contagious, with echoes of dance and music deeply embedded in its hills and caves.
Our day concluded with a stroll along Calle Elvira, which marks the border between the Albaicín and Granada’s city center. This vibrant, colorful street, with its narrow cobblestones and bustling vibe, felt like stepping into a Moroccan souk, rich with scents, sounds, and flavors that stay with you long after you leave.
Calle Elvira
Back to Málaga
Tomorrow, we’ll return to Málaga to close out our annual November escape. Until next year! As we always say, “It’s not about the years we live; it’s about the life we choose to celebrate every year.”
Here’s to many more birthdays, adventures, and memories together.
Yes, I’ve arrived at that phase of life. My knees? Oh, they’ve made a dramatic exit, thanks to arthritis. The cartilage in both knees is gone, which means my favorite activities have vanished too—goodbye, running and yoga! And let me tell you, that goodbye hurt more than my joints.
Meanwhile, my hormones are acting like a fireworks display, constantly going off without warning. This means I can go from weeping over a commercial to snapping at someone for breathing wrong—all in the same hour. And let’s not even get started on the sugar cravings, courtesy of glucose levels playing hopscotch every day. My belly fat? It’s taken on a life of its own, and I swear it’s plotting something.
Here comes the vicious cycle: “I can’t exercise because my joints hurt, which means I gain weight, which makes my joints hurt even more.” Exhausting, right? Well, one day I decided: Enough. There has to be more to menopause than this chaos. I wanted the 51-year-old version of me to be healthier, stronger, and maybe even a little fiercer.
So, what did I do? I became a cougar 浪. Enter: the most handsome coach in the world. Picture this: piercing blue eyes, full of concern (or maybe just mild amusement). Our first conversation went something like this:
Coach (gazing at me, probably wondering if I’m serious): “What do you want to happen with your body?”
Me: “Uhm, well, I don’t want to be Barbie… but I’d love to be fit, wrangle this midline before it gives me a cardiac arrest, and be able to jog at 70.”
Now, my coach doesn’t mess around. He pushes me to break my limits but always respects my limitations. He doesn’t care that I’m 51. “The body follows where the mind leads,” he says, which sounds so inspiring until you’re gasping for air after 20 squats.
So here I am, a month in, lifting weights—30 kg, 6 sets of 3 reps, deadlifts, and squats. My knees are getting stronger, and I can almost hear them whispering, “Thank you.” My coach, still the ruthless gentleman, has slowly reintroduced the treadmill into my life, though I keep begging him to let me run on real terrain. His answer: “Soon. Not yet. Patience.”
Menopause and aging may throw curveballs, but they don’t have to steal the things we love. Two months from now, I’ll be back to my morning yoga or jogging short distances—mark my words.
This is healing. I love me, and that means I’m going to take care of me.
Coach and I call this “wonder woman”project . I always wonder ..😄😄😄
There was once a friendship I knew—sweet, innocent, and pure. A friend who would spoil me by sharing even the little he had. He was a brother, a confidant, and my protector.
We grew up, life led us down different paths, and though we tried to stay connected, somewhere along the way, we lost touch.
There is a friendship I deeply miss, a friend I still long for. I remember how he would give so freely, even when he had so little.
I wish I could be that same, clingy, little sister-friend who would let him break through my walls again. I wish I could…
Not so long ago, I encountered Love—beautiful, sweet, and naïve. I wanted to embrace Love, but I hesitated, afraid of its fragility, its tenderness.
Years have passed, and once again, we find ourselves at a crossroads. My heart quickens, skipping a beat or two. Love looks different now, more mature, with stories etched in the lines of its face, stories of the Love we once knew.We tried to hold on, but Love had its own path to follow, new priorities to set.
Love is now here and there, sometimes lingering at the edge of a memory, smiling softly. Love is the wet lick of a furry friend on your cheek, a fleeting warmth that catches you by surprise. It’s the sun, the wind, and sometimes, the storm that rages within.
Love never truly ends; it simply changes, evolves, finding new ways to touch our lives.
jee426 