Lynette Simmons writes humorous memoir because for her, laughter has been the best medicine and it requires no prescription. Through the different phases of her life, as she dealt with chronic pain, she has always looked for the funny side of life's absurdities. From being a stay-at-home-mom until her three children were out of school, to stepping out to work in a physicians office, then working with Veterans, she has found that laughing at herself has helped relieve stress, anxiety, and pain, as it transforms her daily experiences. She prioritizes joy and happiness daily to bridge gaps and foster relationships with family, friends, and strangers, using it as her secret weapon against the challenges of this world. Her style of writing is breezy, and often tongue-in-cheek, as she relates her memorable life lessons. Lynette now lives in NE Mississippi with a cat her husband gave her as a companion before he died, and sits in the sunshine writing of her sometimes serious but always hilarious senior dating experiences, and celebrates fun, friendships, love, and the power of laughter. She is a believer in natural medicines and the healing power of plants.

With even more benefits!Sitting here in my grandson’s little library bedroom in my cabin all morning reading these books. I loved both of them and will be on my W 2027 Official Kathy L. Murphy Big Book Love book Club reading list with this Official stamp of Reading Approval. I have a lot more books to read but these fit all my requirements. By joining Author Members guarantees I will read all your books first so join today

Which would you stop scrolling and look at 1,2,3,4, of 5

This is a repost from @Kimberly Davis and we both think this is worthy of a thread of its own. Here was her original question .. ---- I want to pose a question, going back to Asimov's three laws of robotics...restating the three laws below so you don't have to scroll back... 1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. 2. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. 3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. How do we define "robot"? Is a self-driving car a robot? I, for example, have begun thinking of my (NOT self-driving) car as my "mech." It is so sophisticated now with cameras and navigation systems that I can control with voice commands. I read in the Houston Chronicle last week about a Cybertruck accident where the driver--allegedly--accidentally set the vehicle to auto and then could not get control of it to prevent an accident. (It was a court ruling, and I know I have details muddled... please don't quote me!) I also want to point out how very ingrained these three laws are in our thinking about the future. They clearly shaped Data's behavior in Star Trek Next Generation. I'm trying to think of explicit examples, but they are everywhere. But at what point do we start calling our helpful devices "robots?" The cars are thinking for themselves, or trying to...

Let me tell you something about turning seventy. Nobody throws you a parade. There's no certificate that arrives in the mail congratulating you on making it this far. What you do get is a whole lot of people treating you like you're already halfway to the grave, speaking a little louder when they talk to you, asking if you need help with things, you've been doing perfectly well since you were six years old in 1955. Well, I've got news for everyone: I'm seventy years old, and I'm not dead yet. Not even close. My husband? Yes, he's dead. It's been five years now. And for a long time, too long, if I'm being honest, I acted as if I'd died right along with him. Wore my widow's weeds like they were sewn onto my skin. Became a professional mourner. An expert at being the sad woman at the end of the pew, the one people whispered about at church socials. "Poor thing," they'd say. "She's taking it so hard." And I was. God knows I was. Forty-eight years of marriage doesn't just evaporate because someone's heart stops beating. You don't just shake it off like water after a swim. But here's what I've figured out, sitting in this house that's too quiet, eating dinner at a table set for one, watching television shows he would have hated: I earned the right to have the life I want now. Not the life everyone thinks I should have. Not the life that looks appropriate for a woman my age. The life I want. George Burns, now there was a man who understood something about aging, once said, "You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old." I've got that quote taped to my bathroom mirror, right next to the magnifying mirror I use to pluck the chin hairs that have decided to throw a party on my face without my permission. Every morning, I look at those words, and I think: He's right. Getting older is mandatory. Getting old? That's a choice. And I'm choosing not to.