On January 21, 2017, I joined nearly a million activists for the Women's March on Washington. With my husband (constantly photographed because of his "Feminist As Fuck" sweatshirt) and my 23-year-old niece, who was visiting the East Coast on her way back from a trip to Israel, I traveled to the nation's capital on a bus chartered from New York City with 50 fellow marchers. We marched for women's rights and a host of other causes, including immigration reform, health care reform, environmental protection, LGBTQIA rights, racial justice, freedom of religion and workers' rights. It was a historic day that took place on the heels of Trump's inauguration and overshadowed it in terms of scope and passionate support. It was an enormous, effusive, peaceful and uplifting event that echoed around the country, and the world, in more than 600 sister marches.

Aging brings with it many unexpected aspects. Some not so good, of course; the many indignities of the body spring to mind. But now that I am able to look back over more than thirty years of adulthood, I am fascinated by this new perspective on my own life. Only with the passage of time, and growing self-awareness, do patterns emerge. Last week, the untimely and violent death of our resident grouse, Larry David, brought a flood of memories and associations that suddenly crystallized into something freighted with greater meaning. I'm not sure how you will receive this rather unusual story but I would love to hear your reactions. Please feel free to respond candidly.

Despite the rumors floating around, January does not have the highest suicide rate. Contrary to the common belief that suicides peak during the frozen winter months, they are actually most prevalent during the late spring and early summer. It is true that January can feel dark and isolating, especially if you shun the cold and refuse to leave your house. I recommend that you plan some fun activities that propel you into the light—skiing! snowshoeing! ice skating!—or at least into the company of others. Museums, theaters and classrooms all work. So step away from that screen and engage with the world. I attended a fantastic demonstration this weekend from the Delaware Valley Raptor Center, a local organization that's dedicated to rehabilitating birds of prey that are found sick or injured. Those that don't recover sufficiently to be released back to the wild stay on and participate in the educational presentations the organization makes to schools, camps and other interested groups all over the region.

The year 2017 is upon us! I'm a January baby, so this month always feels like a fresh start. I'll be turning 54 in a couple of weeks; well past the halfway mark, which is a bit startling somehow. I think about death a lot—have done ever since my father died when I was 26 (he was 64), and then my husband died when I was 40 (he was 41) and my mother died that same year (she was 76). For me, a big part of living is preparing to die and I don't feel this is morbid or maudlin. I want to die in peace and without regrets and this means striving to live in a state of grace. For those of you who haven't yet made it to this age and are curious about what lies ahead, here is what I can report: I have plenty of energy, dreams and plans. The world continues to be full of surprises and challenges. I am never bored. Slowing down is something I do to improve the quality of my life. There is always something new to learn, including about myself. The longer I live, the more I turn to nature for guidance, nourishment and wisdom. Any time I can be outside or interacting with plants is a source of joy for me and making bitters is an extension of that. 

Ice swans. Mountains of caviar. Tuxedoed waiters. Silver candelabras. Live jazz. Piping hot gougères. Flutes of champagne on gilt trays. That's entertainment—of one sort. We should all be so lucky to at least attend one extravagantly grand gala in our lifetime, if not host one. But such an occasion is less appealing to me than gathering close friends together in a relaxing, well-lit room and indulging them with a few comfortingly delicious treats. Although it might not always appear so, I like things pretty simple and I stick to a well-oiled routine that keeps anxiety to a minimum. By now you must know that I believe in being organized. Allotting plenty of time to get things done ahead means no last-minute panic and enjoying the party alongside your guests. So, if you're planning a get-together for New Year's Eve, or thinking about planning one (or dreading the one you've promised to host), I've got some tricks up my sleeve and a few words of counsel.