My love/hate relationship with technology had, of late, been leaning heavily on the latter side.

My latest computer hassle has left me railing against random hackers and reeling in embarrassment over my own electronic ignorance.

My husband, Fred, recently brought me a list he’d found on the supermarket floor. He said the handwriting resembled mine and he knew that I, a list-dependent shopper, would need my notes to keep me on task.

Even as a number of strong women make mighty strides on the national political scene, my own modest nod to feminism occurred two weeks ago when I was tapped to be an usher in a church not particularly known for its gender parity.

My first month as the daycare provider for my granddaughter has ended and, so far, she appears unscathed.

My husband, Fred, is gearing up for a big fraternity reunion in Florida this fall. I’m supposed to help him draft a recap of the past 40 years for the function-planning Web site and then to oblige as designated driver during the brotherhood’s four-day bacchanalia.

My recent exit from the work force has caused me to become more creative about finances. With a fixed monthly income near zero, I’ve had to modify my spending-and-earning mindset as though I were altering clothes after a significant weight shift.

My granddaughter Charlotte’s recent arrival has made me marvel that my own children managed to reach adulthood, deprived as they were of so much modern equipment and parental expertise.

My first month of retirement sneaked past me like an expiration date on a cottage-cheese carton.

As a Realtor with a keen eye for investment property, Wanda Vogt had helped her daughter restore a Highland Park home when the historic neighborhood was just beginning its 1990s renaissance.