Lorena Mae

Strange Cravings

2010-03-20T18:14:00.010-04:00

I learned something new today. It is something that most women, from my young nieces-in-law to my octogenarian mother all probably know but to me it was a revelation. It started out with a lunch with my girlfriend. It had been a while since we had seen each other so we had planned for a nice long chat over lunch. Knowing that she had recently spent a week at her mom's place I figured that she would have some mother stories to share and vent over.

She did but the story that surprised me the most was about another mother - her daughter. I must admit that it still boggles my mind to think that she and my best friend from highschool are both grandmothers! I don't seem old enough to have grandmothers as my closest friends. It freaked me out when I turned a Great Aunt a few years ago but I'll go there another time. For now I am at Red Lobster having a lovely lunch and listening to my best friend vent.

It turns out that her mother wanted to take my friend and her daughter on a trip to Europe. Pretty nice offer if you ask me. My friend, however, saw it differently. She wants to go to Italy but her mom wants to go to Paris, a place my friend has already been to. And for the first time ever, I actually stood up for her mom. The bottom line is that her mom, who was born in Europe, wants to take a last trip visiting her home town and other places she remembers. She wants to show her daughter and granddaughter these places so that someone will know and remember after she is gone. Sorry girlfriend but you can go to Italy on your own time, this trip is for your Mom as it is doubful if this octogenarian will be able to make too many more big trips.

I've recognized a similar trait in my own mother lately. We hate thinking about it but they know that the clock is ticking. Time is growing more precious to them. Knowing this understandably makes them see and do things differently then those younger than them. I get it. I know my friend does too. Most likely it is because she does understand that she freaks out and gets very upset at the idea of this last "memorial" trip.

But it turns out there is another clock ticking. This one belongs to her daughter who is in her early thirties and who just informed her mother that she may not be able to go on the trip because she would like to have another child. OMG was pretty much my friend's slack jawed response because her scatterbrained daughter already has three kids! Plus my friend then added that the last time she saw them her son-in-law commented how nice it now was with the last child finally potty trained, so no more babies in diapers. And now her daughter wants another one!

In telling me this story my friend wondered if she should council her daughter to ignore the baby craving this time around. I must have gotten a blank look on my face when she spoke about getting the urge to have a baby and how even she still occasionally gets the twinge to hold a baby again. Meanwhile I continued to have this clueless look. My friend stopped talking and I think she was getting a bit perturbed with me. Sure everyone knows I don't like kids but I knew she was thinking that I was taking it a bit too far. Except this time it wasn't an act.

I finally realized that I had to fess up. I joke a lot about my incompatability with children but in complete seriousness I had to admit that I never knew that the clock continued ticking even after women have had children. I thought that once you had a child then the biological clock turned off. Instead I now learn that even woman past child bearing years still get the urge to have a baby. Maybe that explains the cluster of women around any co-worker who shows up with her newborn. (I would either hide in my office or wave from across the hallway.)

Now it just so happens that last night I watched an old rerun of House about a woman who was a psychopath, someone who had no feelings at all. Well, I am not a psychopath but whatever piece of DNA that constitutes that maternity portion was completely left out of me. I never once heard that ticking clock and for my 40th birthday I had a hysterectomy so as to be done with all of that for good. So I truly never understood that ticking clock or the baby cravings that other women had until today.

My girlfriend finally got through to me when she equated the urge to have a baby as being similar to the urge to have a cigarette (we are both ex-smokers). Now that urge I can definitely understand for even after 5 years of being smoke free there are still times when I have a craving for a smoke. So apparently after having children, even when in menopause, most women still get cravings to have a baby. Huh, imagine that.

PS. Oh shoot. Should I delete this? Nah, hopefully my family will just laugh. You see that it wasn't until I was editing my blog that I realized that I was surely putting my foot in my mouth this time. For after three children (all girls), my mother also had that baby urge again and to my Dad's delight had a boy. So I'm sorrry Mom and Mike, I didn't mean to offend you. Just chalk it up to me being me. But I suppose you could say that at least I now understand why my little brother is around (and I am glad that you are!).

Happy Halloween (or not)

2009-10-30T09:49:00.008-04:00

I’ve always believed that the world can be divided into two groups: people who like Halloween and people who hate Halloween. I fall into the latter group. I dislike Halloween on so many levels that I doubt if I will ever change.

I didn’t always despise Halloween. As a child it was great fun to get dressed up and go trick or treating and end up with a bag full of candy. Who didn’t like that? Except if I were honest, close to half the candy went uneaten as I never did have a very big sweet tooth. After eating the candy I liked I would simply forget about the rest of it. By Thanksgiving Mom would find the old bag full of stale candy and would end up tossing it out. I’ve always wondered if I was alone or if other kids also ended up throwing out unwanted candy.

Then there was dressing up. Even through high school and college it was still fun to come up with a costume. Maybe that’s because I could get away with going as a cute witch or sexy bar maid or a fun flapper. But once I hit my thirties I dropped out from being an active participant and simply let the kids have the day.

I know that for lovers of Halloween they enjoy becoming somebody else for a day. That’s fine, for a guy. But for an aging woman who is self conscious of the fact that gravity is taking over then Halloween is worse than swim suit season. For not only do you have to find a costume that is somewhat becoming but you are also being judged on your creativity. Way too much pressure for what is supposed to be a fun day.

As an adult, I am now the one to provide the candy to all the trick or treating kids. I once made the mistake of buying a home in a very young community with an elementary school just around the corner. Wanting to be neighborly I bought four large bags of candy and turned on the outside light at 6pm. By 6:45 I ran out of candy. These kids came in droves, wave after wave of children seeking candy from me. I have never seen so many children in my entire life. And as the evening grew later, the cute little kids slowly morphed into older tougher looking kids who you thought wouldn’t hesitate to trick if you didn’t treat. What was really intimidating was when the “children” were taller than me and didn’t even bother with a costume. I finally had to turn off the lights, not just the outside one but the inside lights that anyone could see from the street. And yet they still rang the bell as I hid in my bedroom and ignored them and hoped they would go away.

The next year I didn’t even try to appease the candy possessed children of my neighborhood. Rather than cower all evening in my bedroom, I came up with what I thought was a great idea. Instead of going home after work, I headed for my local mall. I correctly figured that nobody would be getting their hair cut and nails painted that night. So while children were futilely knocking on my door, I was out getting pampered. I even enjoyed watching the little ones all dressed up who were trick or treating in the safety of the mall. On my way home, I was still astounded at the masses of children swarming up and down my street. And like heat seeking missiles, they zeroed in on my car and watched with candy glazed eyes as I pulled into my driveway. But they were out of luck as I crept through my darkened house to my back bedroom where I stayed out of sight for the rest of the night. By the time Halloween came around the next year I had moved to a private gated community with very few children. Much better!

And then on top of it all there is that whole scary theme. For weeks prior to Halloween it is impossible to find a nice movie on TV, all the channels are playing every horror film that they have. And I don’t like horror films. I was once persuaded to see The Shining and had nightmares for months seeing Jack’s face with that big scary grin. Oddly enough, I love scary books and have read every King book, a lot of Koontz and other authors who write creepy, spooky books. But if they get too spooky I can skim it but in a movie I am forced to watch what happens next. I have however, discovered one trick if I end up watching a scary movie at home – turn off the sound. In a scene where there is no conversation only action if you turn off the creepy music the scene is a lot easier to watch!

But its not just scary movies, I also get spooked in haunted houses. I know that is the purpose of a haunted house – to scare the people who go through them. But I have a very sensitive startle reflex and haunted houses constantly trigger reactions from me. Hell, as a child I never even liked hide and seek because the idea of someone chasing after me was very scary to me. So a haunted house where things chase you, pop out of nowhere or reach out to grab you gives me nightmares for months. The only haunted house I have ever like was Disney’s and other than that wonderful haunted house I think I will pass.

About half of you are nodding your heads in agreement. The other half are thinking I am nuts and making way too much out of what is a fun day. Fine. I hope the latter group has a fun time in their costumes and going to their haunted houses or parties. The rest of us will be hiding in our bedrooms watching old sitcoms and counting the hours until the night is over. And just our luck, Saturday night is when we are to turn our clocks back an hour. So the Halloween lovers will get an extra hour to party while the rest of us will hopefully sleep through the night, extra hour and all. Happy Halloween - or not....

Childhood Icons

2009-10-25T14:03:00.007-04:00

Two more links to my childhood died this week. The first person who passed away was Soupy Sales. Hated by every parent, we children loved him. To put him in perspective, Krusty the Clown was partially inspired by Soupy and, like The Simpsons, The Soupy Sales Show was edgy and appealed as the antithesis to the gentle Captain Kangaroo.

As any Baby Boomer will tell you, Soupy Sales was famous for two things. First was the constant pie throwing. No one was exempt from getting a pie in the face and the kids loved it. It may seem so tame now but back then it was a prank worthy of Bart Simpson. Seeing Soupy Sales throw a pie at another adult was not only funny but also very gratifying, the equivalent, today, to a kid giving the finger to an adult. And there were a lot of pies thrown as it is estimated that Soupy tossed 20,000 pies. Surprisingly, his show’s guest list read like a Who’s Who of the 1960’s including Frank Sinatra, Shirley McClain, Jerry Lewis and even Judy Garland, all of whom received a pie in the face. Even though half the time we didn’t recognize the famous guests, it didn’t really matter. For we were too busy transferring the face of a teacher or coach or relative onto whomever was really getting hit with a pie and oh, the delight at the thought of that other person covered in pie and whip cream.

But what propelled Soupy Sales from a silly kids show into TV notoriety was his live show the morning of January 1, 1965. Not exactly pleased that he had to work the morning after New Year’s Eve, he pushed the envelope a tad bit too far. Before signing off on his show, he told all of his viewers to tiptoe into their still sleeping parents’ bedroom and take those “funny green pieces of paper with pictures of Presidents” from their parents’ pants and pocketbooks. He then instructed his young viewers to “Put them in an envelope and mail them to me! And I’ll send you a postcard from Puerto Rica!” At that point Soupy got hit with a pie as if to indicate it was a joke.

To his surprise, the children actually did what he told them to do; they stole the money from their parents and mailed it to him! He ended up having to state on air that it was a joke, and after apologizing he further stated that the money he was receiving would go to charity. But the story had a life of its own and snowballed into a huge fiasco in which the network suspending Soupy for two-weeks. Afterwards Soupy ended up even more popular and forever would be linked with this infamous TV story.

The other person who died this week was Vic Mizzy who was 93. Never heard of him? While neither had I. But if you’re a Baby Boomer, you could probably complete the following: “They’re creepy and they’re ….” And if you can’t remember all the words you at least could immediately identify where it’s from. Want to try again? Ok how about remembering the words to this: “The chores, the stores, fresh…, ….. …..”. No? Oh sure if you heard it sung you would know the source immediately.

For you non-Baby Boomers the missing word from the first is “They’re creepy and they’re spooky, mysterious and kooky, they’re all together ooky, the Addams Family”. The answer to the other is “The chores, the stores, fresh air, Times Square” and is the chorus to the theme song for Green Acres. While Vic Mizzy wrote numerous songs and theme songs, these are his best known works.

Although most people turn their noses up at theme songs, I think they are an important part of our culture. By the 1960’s and 70’s nearly everyone in this country had a TV yet at the same time, there weren’t that many channels available so more people watched the same shows than today. Unlike almost anything else before or after, these shows and characters brought the country together. And while most people can barely remember a specific episode from their favorite show, they would be surprised to realize that they had learned the show’s theme song. Some theme songs are more memorable than others and I would put Vic Mizzy’s Addam’s Family and Green Acres in that category.

My belief that theme songs are an important part of our culture stems from an incident I had while I was on a European tour comprised of young people aged 21 to 30. We came from all across the US and had little in common other than this tour and our twenty-something age. One night, while in Vienna Austria, we were booked for dinner in this smallish restaurant on the outskirts of the town. The restaurant was filled with locals who would all start singing at the drop of a hat.

After a few beers we began to haltingly talk to them and were soon asked to sing a song from America. We were stumped to find a song that we all knew. It was impossible as some on the tour like country, others liked pop etc. Then someone in our group started to sing the theme song to the Love Boat. To my surprise I discovered that I actually knew the words and was soon joining in. From there we went to The Brady Bunch, The Addams Family and yes, Green Acres. As silly as it may sound, singing these theme songs brought us together into a united group with shared experiences that helped to remind us we were Americans.

In the passing of Soupy Sales and Vic Mizzy, we say goodbye to two iconic men of the 1960’s. But they left behind images and words that will live forever and will always be a part of my childhood and of one special night in Vienna.

Phone Talk

2009-10-15T11:53:00.019-04:00

If you are over 50 then you remember what a real phone looked like in comparison to the phones today. Up until the last decade or so, when you talked into a phone you were really talking into the phone. These telephones made sense. They were solid and comfortable in your hand. There was an earpiece that cupped around your ear and a mouth piece that was actually at your mouth. The only place to find phones like that today are in some offices but most people spend their time talking on little cell and cordless phones.

These old phones may be technological dinosaurs but they had some great benefits missing in today’s phones. For example, there was nothing more satisfying than slamming the phone down to show your anger to the other person. Or when sharing the phone, to huddle with a friend or family listening in to the ear piece together. Sadly, the art of slamming a phone is now a thing of the past. It is impossible to do this when all you do is push a button or close a lid to hang up on somebody. I must admit I miss the solidness and sound effects of slamming a phone especially when I want to end a conversation with a salesperson. Sure, we now have caller ID so that we can ignore calls from people but if you never slammed a phone you don’t know what you are missing. As for sharing a phone, forget about it with today’s cell phones. I guess you could simply put it on Speakerphone but that isn’t the same as sitting side by side, each with an ear pressed to the earpiece, as shown so tenderly in the classic telephone scene in Its A Wonderful Life.

All in all, the phones of yesteryear made sense whereas today’s phones seem downright silly. First, they are tiny in comparison to earlier phones. Sure this is what we say we want so that we can now easily slip a phone into a purse or pocket but we lost something along the way. I recently used my brother’s cell phone which was about the size and shape of a playing card. It felt rather foolish to put this thin square thing up to my ear. Even worse is that when placed against your ear most cell phones and cordless phones end about mid cheek. So unlike in the past when you actually talked into a mouthpiece that was positioned at your mouth you are now supposed to talk into the air and just assume that the cell phone up by your cheek is capturing what you say. It seems very bizarre if you think about it.

The other thing with today’s cell phones is that not only does it seem strange to talk into them but nowadays people spend as much time typing on a phone as talking on them. I would have thought you were nuts if you told me 35 years ago that I would be typing on my phone. But I look back to the old days when I was a teen and recall all the notes that were passed between my friends and I. So yes, I can see the appeal of texting, especially the feature of quickly deleting the text so that you never have the problem of a teacher confiscating a note and potentially reading it to the whole class.

Speaking of teens, when I was 15 my family moved and I was allowed to help decorate my new bedroom. There were only two things that I really wanted; a white shag rug (yes, really!) and a white princess phone just like the blue one shown at the right. I loved that phone. Unlike the other phones in the house, it had push buttons rather than a rotary dial. Huh. I bet kids today don’t even know what a rotary dial is! Or know about the mindless fun of twirling the phone cord around and around then dropping the phone handle and watching it spin faster and faster.

I also don't think kids today are taught phone etiquette any more. As a child my mother taught me how to politely answer our phone, take a message and end the conversation. Today? Parents are often befuddled over the newest cell and cordless phones which their kids, however, quickly master. And as phones are no longer just in the house we need to define new etiquette rules to handle the new cell phone situations such as accepting calls in public places and handling personal calls or texting while at work. And of course we need to create and enforce laws banning cell phone texting while driving and maybe even ban talking on a cell if the driver is holding the cell. Or perhaps I am truly showing my age to even suggest phone etiquette when most etiquette guidelines are a thing of the past. That’s too bad for it is etiquette that allows a society to live together harmoniously. But that’s a topic for another day.

You are probably not surprised to learn that I still have an old fashioned "princess" phone. I like to occasionally use it, especially for a long phone call. My hand doesn’t cramp as much when I am holding my old bigger phone. I also discovered a major advantage to keeping my old phone – it works during a hurricane. When we had three hurricanes go over my town a few years ago one of the first things that went was the electricity which meant your cordless phones were now useless. Cell phone usage became very sporadic partly due to damaged cell towers and partly due to everyone trying to call in and out. Plus without power, if you didn’t have a car charger then your cell was useless if the crisis lasted more than a day or two. But my trusty old princess phone still worked like a charm.

Cell phones may do all kinds of things but you have to admit that they are rather plain looking and even the names are dull. Iphones may be terrific but to a preteen girl the name sure sounds boring in comparison to a “princess” phone. Better yet, remember when you could get a phone in the shape of a golf ball or poodle or dozen of shapes to suit your home? Now that was cool. So people today may be enthralled with their fancy little Ipod phones but they’ll never have a phone, like I once had, which was in the shape of a football and worked during hurricanes, will they?

My Hurricane Diet

2009-08-16T09:08:00.013-04:00

I woke up this morning to discover that not only do we have our first named hurricanes of the season, Anna and Bill, but a third tropical storm popped out of nowhere in the Gulf. So what had been a nonevent, hurricane wise, all summer, suddenly has started with a bang.

Yeah! Not only does this mean the start of the hurricane season but for me it also means the start of my hurricane diet. If you have never heard of the hurricane diet, don’t feel badly. Although I founded it five years ago I haven’t told many people about my new diet.

Actually, I should have known that we would finally have our first hurricanes of this season during this weekend. You see on Thursday I did something that I haven’t done in a long time – I went grocery shopping. I dislike doing this and avoid it if I can. In fact in the 90’s when I worked for casinos where I could eat for free, I figure that in a four year period I walked into a grocery store no more than 5 times. My life has changed such that I have to feed myself which means an occasional trip to the grocery store.

I needed moral support so a friend went with me to the grocery store where I spent a whopping $67 on food. Now my freezer has more than a bottle of Absolut and a stick of butter and my refrigerator even has things in the meat and crisper drawers! So it comes as absolutely no surprise that we are now surrounded by Anna, Bill and a third tropical storm in the Gulf which seemed to have appeared overnight. Granted the first two may fizzle out before getting to the coast and the third will hopefully head towards the peninsular but it is still a reminder of what may come over the next few months.

So what is the hurricane diet? It was created out of necessity during a very active hurricane season in 2004. Like this weekend, I had just gone grocery shopping and had a full freezer and fridge when hurricane Charlie hit. As hurricanes are prone to do, this one ignored the weathermen’s’ predictions and at the last minute ramped up in strength to a Cat 4 and then swerved right and landed not in Tampa as projected but further south. Then it took a totally unpredicted course of running straight up the state and right over my house!

OK, as I was lucky and escaped damage I have to admit it was pretty cool. My family moved to Central Florida 30 years ago and this was my first encounter with a hurricane. Yes I was scared as I “hunkered down” in my bathroom but at the same time it was pretty mind-blowing to hear the weatherman state that “the eye of the hurricane is now directly over Altamonte”, the town where I lived. How awesome is that? But then my power went out and the wind kept blowing and trees falling and rain pouring down and things seemed a bit scarier.

After three days without power and with temps in the mid 90’s I figured that the food in my freezer and fridge was no good so I emptied it all out and threw it away. I started to think about refilling it but then came hurricane Francis during Labor Day weekend, landing on September 5th. This one came in on the east coast between Palm Beach and Cape Canaveral and yet it still angled upward such that she, too, came straight for my house. If it weren’t for the killer winds blowing down trees which then crashed into houses it was almost boring. Plus I have to admit that with Charlie there was a kind of initial novelty of having a hurricane in your backyard. But twice in a matter of weeks was a bit too much.

So imagine our utter shock in finding out that a third hurricane was now coming. We watched with total relief as Ivan missed Central Florida completely. It hit on the 15th with very destructive Cat 5 winds and as sorry as we felt for the folks in Mobile we couldn’t help but be glad it wasn’t us. However, as we were all watching Ivan, nobody realized that Jeanne was slowly building out in the Atlantic. And slowly was the word for Jeanne. It first developed around the 13th yet didn’t make landfall until the 25th. At this point we were all definitely over hurricanes; and waiting around for Jeanne to hit didn’t help. Following the exact same path as Francis, Jeanne slowly made her way across the state of Florida and for the third time in 6 weeks I had a hurricane pass right over my house.

A side effect for me of Charlie, Francis and Jeanne was that I lost weight. This wasn’t a planned diet and I didn’t even realize until the end of the 2004 hurricane season that I had lost 12 lbs! So how did I do it? Well, once I threw out the bad food in my fridge I then kept putting off filling it back up again. Why bother? Every time I thought about going to the grocery store there would be talk of another hurricane heading my way. And who wants to spend all that money on food when you might lose electricity for a few days as I did with each hurricane. So what did I eat? I am not really sure. I think I reverted to previous times when I would eat something for lunch at work (although now having to pay for it) and then I would skip dinner or perhaps have a bowl of cereal.

Now that we have Anna, Bill and no name Tropical Storm 4 then it is time to implement my hurricane diet. I just wish I knew what it consists of so that I can do it again! On the other hand, having just filled my fridge I am tempted to eat everything now before I get hit with a hurricane and have to throw it all out. But I do know that binge eating isn’t a part of the diet. I suppose that the key to my hurricane diet isn’t in avoiding carbs or fats or starches but by simply avoiding food entirely! And the best way to do that is to keep your refrigerator empty so that you won’t be tempted to actually eat. So who knows, perhaps someday my hurricane diet will be the next fad. Unless of course, those who are following the Mother Hubbard diet get noticed first!

Cougars, MILFs and Matrons

2009-08-02T10:19:00.014-04:00

Have you seen the recent pictures of Madonna? Or more specifically, have you seen the photos of her arms? They are gross in so many ways. Do men find this look at all attractive? I can’t help but think that they just might prefer a softer arm rather than one which just might be able to beat them in arm wrestling.

Personally, when I see the new pics of Madonna for some reason I keep thinking of a plucked chicken. Now that she appears to have no body fat at all she has crossed over from being thin to being just plain scrawny. The real problem, however, is that it was bad enough that you dieted and worked out continuously when you were in your twenties and thirties but now you’re supposed to keep this up in your forties and fifties and even sixties, if you check out the pictures of famous older actresses. Not too long ago 39 year old Jennifer Aniston posed nude on the cover of a magazine. Good for her and persnoally I think her ex Brad Pitt was nuts to trade her in for Angelina Jolie.

But what ever happened to the idea of the matronly look when you hit a certain age? I always used to read about the matrons who had acquired a certain look due to gravity, age and good food and it was a look that was very accepted in society. But today, instead of being able to have that matronly image you’re now supposed to be a cougar or MILF.

Just to make sure I had it correct, I checked out the Urban Dictionary for their definition of Cougar which is “A 35+ year old female who is on the "hunt" for a much younger, energetic, willing-to-do-anything male. The cougar can frequently be seen in a padded bra, cleavage exposed, propped up against a swanky bar … gearing up to sink her claws into an innocent young and strapping buck who happens to cross her path.” Examples of Cougars who have married younger men are Susan Sarandon, Joan Collins and Demi Moore.

If you are married, and hopefully not looking for a younger man, then you’re supposed to strive to be a MILF which the Urban Dictionary defines as “mothers, whether married, separated or divorced, that a male individual sees as physical attractive enough to want to have sexual intercourse with them.”; hence the acronym for Mothers I’d Like to F… Nice, huh? One example of a MILF is Katie Holmes, but again, I think she has crossed over the line of thinness to being skeletal.

But it doesn’t stop with Cougars or MILF’s either. We’re now being bombarded with images of 60, 70 and even 80 year old actresses who are still working out and starving themselves to present an acceptably thin, toned look. Good grief! I mean have you seen these pictures of Raquel Welch at 67 or the queen of plastic surgery Joan Rivers (76) or Joan Collins, also 76 who continues to look sexy and glamorous. And then there was 83 year old Cloris Leachman dancing away. Don’t we ever catch a break? Are women going to have to hit the gym for their whole lives? Don’t we ever get time off for good behavior? Isn’t there a point when we can say enough already and let our bodies do what it is fighting to do since we were 20, which is to droop, sag, widen and bulge.

I’m not even sure the stores still make the underclothing to help bodies which have aged naturally. Do stores even sell girdles, that necessity for older women before the 1970’s? You could say that in the 1960’s and 1970’s we went through that “let it all hang out” philosophy. This was replaced with Jane Fonda’s workouts to whip women of all ages into shape. It was just our bad luck that unlike parachute pants and big hair, exercising is one craze that never died out. And of course, 72 year old Jane Fonda still looks great. You may not like her but damn if she doesn't look great for her age.

And that is the key - age, older woman are trying to deny the fact that they are old. And that is a shame. I am truly sorry that society will most likely never go back to the old days where men appreciated the older woman who had a bit more curves than her younger counterpart. For when we can easily erase the lines age has etched on our faces with in a few minutes with Botox then there is no hope that society will ever value the experiences and wisdom those lines represented.

As I wrote this I have been wracking my brain to come up with a single famous woman who has allowed herself to age naturally. Finally, I thought of one example, although tellingly she is not an actress and never had to make a living based on her looks. My idol for ageing gracefully is 84 year old former First Lady Barbara Bush. Now here is a lady, in the true sense of the word, who has allowed the world to see every line, every crease on her face. And regardless of what we thought of her husband, almost everyone fell in love with her. We wanted Mrs Bush to be our grandmother, our mother. So forget trying to be a MILF or Cougar, I would be just as happy if I could be as happy and peaceful in my body as Mrs Bush is with hers.

Weddings and the Great Cookie Caper

2009-07-24T08:07:00.014-04:00

Have you seen the Youtube video of the dancing wedding? This is the coolest wedding I’ve seen in years: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0. Isn’t that great? Kudos to whomever came up with the idea of changing the boring way in which every wedding begins – with the bridesmaids slowly walking up the aisle doing that step pause step walk followed by the bride walking down the aisle to the traditional music. Snore! Weddings are a serious, solemn occasion and yet they are also a joyous celebration of the love of two people and their hope for the future. So why not dance your way to the minister?

Speaking of weddings, my family is getting caught up in my nephew’s wedding plans. This is not only the first wedding in the family since my brother’s 18 years ago but it will also be the first time the entire family has been together in nearly 10 years. We’ve had other family reunions in the past decade but there was always one or two people missing. Last year I had to miss my Mom’s 80th birthday reunion and three years ago two of my nephews were absent from our vacation in the Smokies. This wedding is then extra special for who knows when or if we will ever all be together again.

So this is turning into a really big event. While the bride and groom, Meg and Jay, and my sister Carol are making the wedding and rehearsal dinner plans, the rest of us were making travel arrangements to fly to Dallas. The family has become quite spread out with people flying in from Boston, Virginia, Rhode Island, Florida and Nevada. There will be a lot of airport runs that weekend!

Meanwhile, my mother, who lives a few blocks from the wedding couple, has been arranging the Great Cookie Caper. Although the TX group lives north of Dallas, the wedding itself is in downtown Dallas and will be held around 8 pm followed by a reception afterwards. Since everyone plans to partake of the open bar at the reception it was decided we would all stay at the nearby Weston after the wedding. But an 8pm wedding with only light appetizers afterwards means we need to have dinner beforehand. Plans now include a good lunch earlier and then to save time (and money) everyone will pack their dinner of a sandwich, chips and cookies at my sister's house. We would then drive down to Dallas in the afternoon, check in, get ready for the wedding at the hotel and munch on our packed meal for dinner.

My mother is in charge of providing the cookies. Twenty even ten years ago she would have baked dozens and dozens of cookies. But at 81 and living in a smallish apartment she has opted to instead, well, steal them. She lives in a lovely place for older people but it isn’t an assisted living facility, it is more like a dorm for old folks, where everyone has their own apartments and takes care of themselves. It is certainly a very beautiful place and does provide lovely a dining room for lunch and dinner; complete with waiters and a varied menu. It also offers a rotating menu of cookies and for the resident’s convenience the waiters will wrap up cookies for them to take back to their apartments for a late afternoon or before bed snack.

Now my mother is truly a very classy lady, a pillar of her church who taught her children to respect the law and authority figures. So how she came up with her Great Cookie Caper idea is beyond me. As you have probably figured out, she has now started to request two cookies after dinner which she is putting in her freezer to save for our dinner the night of the wedding. But it is not just her – she has enlisted the help of her senior friends, too.

So now there is a gaggle of grandparents requesting their two cookies after each meal and then surreptitiously handing them over to my Mom. I’m sure she has computed to the exact number how many cookies she will have by the end of the next two months. Living in Florida where the seniors are notorious for taking anything not nailed down at restaurants I have to admit that I was more than a bit taken back by Mom and her Great Cookie Caper. (And no I didn’t come up with the name, she and her friends did that, too.) But I have to admit she sure is having fun with this.

I chalk it all up to Wedding Madness that overtakes anyone involved with a wedding. The Texas crowd is already over the top about this wedding and the rest of us are catching it, too. We’ve already spent countless hours on the phone talking about dresses – not the bride’s but ours and what we will wear to the wedding, the rehearsal dinner, the luncheon at Mom’s, does it fit now, will we lose enough weight so it will fit then etc. etc. And to think, there is still two months to go….

Thank you Mr. Houghtaling!

2009-07-07T13:11:00.008-04:00

There was an article in the newspaper about a 92 year old man who recently passed away. I had never heard of him – John Joseph Houghtaling. It almost sounds like a made up name but it is real, he was real. When I read about his passing away I couldn’t help but smile. Not that he was dead but because of what he had done when he was alive.

You see, John Joseph Houghtaling invented something that quickly became a highlight when traveling with your parents when you were a child and then later on a must try with your significant other. For his contribution to Americana was none other than Magic Fingers, yes the Magic Fingers Vibrating Bed.

If you are giggling at the mention of Magic Fingers then you remember the promise it invoked. But I am sure there are a large number of readers who have absolutely no idea what Magic Fingers was. Ah you missed out on one of the delights of the 1960s and 1970s for travelers, excited children, tired parents and eager lovers.

Just the sight of that metal box attached to the bed in your hotel room would make you wonder if maybe you had a few extra quarters; for that is all it took, 25 cents. One quarter in that metal box and your bed would rock you and bounce and massage you for 15 minutes. Parents would gladly hand over quarters if it meant fifteen minutes of near silence from overly excited children who had been cooped up in a car all day. And to a young lover it seemed almost decadent, to have the bed move on its own beneath you and your lover. Although frequently the mood would be broken as you both dissolve into laughter. Not only because it would bring back childhood memories but also because it would seem so silly and so very kitschy. And by the time you got your chuckles under control the fifteen minutes were over. But find another quarter and it will start all over again.

I think the real “Magic” in Magic Fingers was the promise and not the actual results. As a child it was something different, something exciting and fun which could only be found in motel rooms. There was also the idea that you were constantly told not to jump on the bed and now here was a bed that would bounce you around. How cool was that? For young lovers, or lovers of any age, there was the promise that it would enhance your evening. That somehow it could make a magical night more magical and even a shade naughty if only for fifteen minutes. Most of all, there was the promise to the weary traveler. It was advertised that it could help “you experience a relaxing, soothing sleep environment“. The promise that in fifteen minutes all the hassles of the businessman’s day, the traveling, sales calls, business meetings etc. would fade away thanks to the Magic Fingers.

Magic Fingers are now a thing of the past. Over the last decade it faded away until only a few roadside motels had them. I think Magic Fingers suffered from the same fate as Drive In Movie Theaters, Polaroid pictures, Paint by Number and roller skates. No one is quite sure why they slowly became obsolete, perhaps technology passed them by or people became too sophisticated for these simpler pleasures. Whatever the reason, thank you Mr. Houghtaling for giving us Magic Fingers. But with their passing, and yours, the world is now a slightly sadder place now.

Happy July 4th

2009-07-02T22:26:00.019-04:00

I love the 4th of July. To me it is my second favorite holiday, right after Christmas. One reason I like it is that for the last few years my brother throws a big 4th of July party on the 3rd and to me it is the epitome of a Norman Rockwell family celebration.

About ten years ago mr brother, Mike bought a house in the subdivision our family first moved to in 1973 which coincidentally was on July 3rd. In fact on our second day in our new home we went around the corner and down the street to the lake where there was a 4th of July picnic and fireworks. This was the only year the subdivision ever did this as the community quickly became too large.

Fast forward 25+ years and my brother bought a home in our old neighborhood just two doors down from that lake. Now it’s my brother who is throwing a 4th of July party on the 3rd. For the past few years they have rented out the community beach for their big party. And it is big. The last time I looked 81 people were definitely coming including 29 kids! Another 20-30 still hadn’t replied but most of those will show up plus if anyone from the subdivision stops by they are absorbed into the party even if they weren’t invited.

Mike and Candy throw a true summer beach party. They rent out one of those bouncy places for the younger kids, have lots of other outdoor games and balls plus people bring boats for tubing and water skiing. So the kids of all ages have something to do – even if it is simply giggling and talking to the cute boys which my eldest niece is getting proficient at – much to her parents chagrin.

When the families arrive, the men stand around the grills talking to my brother as he flips the burgers while Candy directs the women who are bringing mouth watering side dishes of pasta or fruit and delicious deserts. The simplicity of the food is another reason I love this holiday. Oh sure you could spend hours making some fancy pasta dish or doing those deviled egg thingies but people are happy with burgers and store bought potato salad and coleslaw. Or at least I am happy with it!

When the kids get hungry they swarm the tables then back to the lake or games again. Once the food is out the adults sit back in beach chairs sipping whatever cold drink they brought in their coolers. And that is pretty much most of the party – sitting, relaxing, enjoying the hot evening, catching up with people you only see at these parties, watching the kids have fun and eating too much. Ain’t it wonderful?

But it can’t be the 4th, even on the 3rd without fireworks. A nearby town has their big fireworks display on the 3rd. Lucky for us, if we stand on the dock or move our chairs to the edge of the lake we have a nearly perfect view of the professional fireworks. The only bad part is that men have to be men and play with fireworks on their own. Frequently my brother will have bought some stuff or some of the other men will have something so after the official fireworks we have the unofficial fireworks. The men set off their stuff while the women hold their breaths and check to make sure the kids stay far away.

Afterwards, everyone pitches in to clean up then most go home while a core group head back to my brother’s house where kids jump in the pool and the adults enjoy the air conditioning, soft couches and cold drinks, and not necessarily in that order. All in all it is a wonderful July 4th on the 3rd!

After saying all this, I can’t go this year. After my recent hospitalization and surgeries I am still a bit shaky when I walk. Even with my cane, I know I would be nervous walking on the grass and sand especially with all the kids running around. I did ask my wound care nurse if I could go swimming and was emphatically told no; not in a pool and definitely not in a lake. As I still have an open wound healing on my leg she would prefer if I stayed far away from lakes, dirt, sand and anything that could infect it. So that pretty much rules out going this year.

Instead I will have the kind of 4th that I use to have before my brother’s party. Tomorrow I have a therapeutic massage which I hope works or at least feels good. I specifically made it for 11:30 because across the street is a take out Chinese place. After my appointment I will load up on Chinese food for the weekend. Ok my food choice may not seem appropriate but I make up for that with my love of patriotic music. I am a sucker for a Sousa march and this is the last reason I love this holiday. I even programmed my new phone’s ring to be the Star Spangled Banner!

So the morning of the 4th I will watch the Williams sisters play at Wimbledon and hopefully in the afternoon a station will have Stars and Stripes, the old movie about Sousa or the classic Yankee Doodle Dandy. In the evening after my lo mein I will watch any and every fireworks display on TV and the more patriotic songs, the better. I am sorry to miss Mike’s party but I think I will have a grand ol’ time at home. I hope you do, too.

Happy Independence Day!

The Third One

2009-06-28T17:36:00.005-04:00

Superstitions foretell that bad news comes in three. So when Farrah and Michael died on the same day people included Ed McMahon as the third in this sad trilogy. That didn’t sound right to me. No offense to Ed, but he always seemed old. He belonged to my parents generation, not mine. Today I discovered that I was correct. Ed wasn't to be a part of this group. The third person turned out to be Billy Mays. Like Jackson (and me) he was also born in 1958. Though he was of my generation and apparently a good salesman he annoyed me to pieces. In fact I had planned to do a blog one day in which I would wonder who is Billy Mays and why is he yelling at me? But now that voice has been silenced, too. And I was correct in excluding Ed for it was Billy who was to join Michael and Farrah. The sad trio is complete. I hope.

A Day of Sorrow

2009-06-25T21:15:00.009-04:00

I feel as if part of my history is gone now. I was still a bit surprised when the news announced that Farrah had died. Yes, everyone knew she was dying from cancer but to go so soon? No, I didn’t think it would be as soon as today. I am sorry she died and yet I am sorry that once again we are bombarded with images of Farrah on that damn poster. In the seventies every man’s idea of perfection was Farrah Fawcett in her red bathing suit posing on her iconic poster. And every other woman fell short. Farrah was perfection, a body that men craved, masses of hair that created styles women copied for years and in the ongoing comparison to Farrah most women would be happy if they simply had her smile. And it is her smile we will remember even as she was trying to fight her cancer. In the end cancer won again but we will always have her smile and yes, that friggin’ poster!

As I listened to the noon news about her death I consoled myself with the fact that she was 62 which was more than a decade older than I. Ok not much more but still she was older. She couldn’t be considered a contemporary of mine.

But Michael Jackson was. In fact we were born in the same year. Unlike Farrah, his death is shocking for there was no warning, no drawn out battle, no hints of illness. One minute he was here and the next his heart gave out and he was gone. As the newsmakers scramble to put together tributes (unlike the ones ready to go for Farrah) I am pleased that most are talking about his sheer genius and musical talent and not dwelling on his personal life. For Michael Jackson was a tour de force, an entertainer from the age of 5 who could command stages with his dancing and singing.

There are very few albums (CDs for you youngsters) that people can remember the exact day and time that they heard it for the first time. For me, Thriller is one of those albums. My boyfriend had brought this new album to a Halloween Party and the whole party almost came to a complete standstill as we listened to each amazing song. Wow. We had never heard anything like that. And later, Jackson broke all the rules with his Thriller video and made new rules with Beat It and his other videos.

I never understood the one white glove or the crotch grabbing but then again there were a lot of things about this man I never understood, that the world never understood. He grew up on stage and I couldn’t imagine a childhood of recording, practicing, performing but without anything a normal child would experience. A lot has been supposed that when he did become an adult he tried to recapture his childhood. Call me naïve but I prefer to believe that Michael Jackson was the iconic Peter Pan reliving his childhood in innocence with other children in his very own Never never land. While his never ending plastic surgery on his face was fuel for the late night comics I often wondered if underneath that makeup was simply a man with such low self esteem that he tried to erase his face or at least recreate it into what he imagined beautiful to be.

He was also supposedly incredibly soft spoken and shy when not on stage. Strangely enough, this I can understand. I am frequently ill at ease around strangers sometimes even with my family and at times I'm hard pressed to know how to start or sustain a conversation. I would hate when I had to eat dinner with clients or chit chat during cocktail parties with my top customers. But put me in front of 70 clients to lecture for three hours and I loved every moment of it. So I could easily understand how he could be a quiet private person which belied his public persona. But before the adult Michael Jackson there was the child prodigy of the Jackson 5.

In the new age of television I was able to grow up with Michael Jackson. We were children together when he was on American Bandstand with the Jackson 5 singing “ABC”. In fact, his was one of the very first 45s that I ever bought. During my youth, Michael and his brothers were everywhere with one hit record after another. But during our teens he seemed to disappear for awhile until I next saw him in the Wiz. Then, unlike many childhood stars who fade as they age, Michael was able to reinvent himself as a solo act and burst back into the limelight with his Off the Wall and Thriller albums.

I would have liked to continue aging with Michael. That won’t happen now. And we’ll never know what else this musical prodigy and genius might have contributed to the world. There is some saying about not missing someone until he was gone. That seems to be the impact of Michael Jackson. I just hope everyone will remember the music and watching him grow up and let the rest of the innuendoes die with him.

I can’t help but think that the too often used phrase “we will never see any one else like him” truly does apply to Michael Jackson. No matter what you might have thought of the man he provided the world with amazing music. As they would say on American Bandstand, where I first saw him when we were children, his music “always had a good beat and you could dance to it”. What more could you ever ask for?

Today I lost two icons from my generation. The Queen of the Posters and the King of Pop. And all of a sudden I am beginning to feel old.

Dancing Fool

2009-06-21T10:01:00.012-04:00

I am going to make a prediction. Every once in a while I see hints of something from a variety of sources and put it all together. From there I can see what it might mean in the future. Well over the past few months I have been seeing evidence that a change is coming. Actually it is the possibility of a revival of something most people would say they hope never arises again. But I think it will. What is this feared thing coming back to life again? Well, I have this feeling that within the next six to twelve months there will be a huge revival of disco. Yes I said disco. That despised dance trend and lifestyle of the late 70’s and early 80s which was hugely popular although no one today would admit liking it.

Why a revival of disco? One simple answer is that it was fun. And it was. Today if you listen to people you would think that all the clubs must have been empty because everyone talks about how much they hated disco. But the truth is that the clubs were packed with people who couldn’t wait for the music to start so they could hit the dance floor.

I admit that I was one of those people who enjoyed disco. Maybe because it was the only time my boyfriend would actually get out on the dance floor with me. He hated to dance to rock ‘n roll for that meant he would have to stand by himself and move around on his own. But with disco you danced with a partner and you could easily learn some simple disco moves that allowed you to think you knew what you were doing. And when we weren’t on the dance floor we would watch the dancers to pick up some new steps for the next time we danced under that shimmering ball floating over the dance floor.

Then there was the clothing. OK, I hope that part of disco doesn’t make a comeback. Men, you can still enjoy disco without the polyester white suit or powder blue tux or worst of all the leisure suit. No, I sure don’t see any of that making a return. I don’t remember if there were any real fashion faux pas for the women, at least not in clothing. But oh the hair, there were a number of hair styles that were awful. Of course there was the big hair look that teased to death poufy look that a lot of the women wore especially women in NJ and NY. I admit I managed to avoid that look but I fell victim to the ultra curly, finger in the light socket look. I actually paid to get a permanent to give my hair this extreme kinked, curly look. What a disaster! Although it isn’t much worse than today’s popular style of taking a hank of hair from the front of their head and pulling it up and back to give a look like a groomed dog with this puffy hair right above the forehead.

Anyway, over the next six months I have a feeling that you’ll start to see more and more disco. And maybe there is some correlation between the economy and a silly fun dance like the disco. On the news today they talk about having the highest unemployment since the early eighties and economists are worried that we might have inflation just as we did back then. But 25-30 years ago when you were out on the dance floor twisting and turning to the loud happy music you could forget that you were broke or out of a job or barely making ends meet. So perhaps this nation needs a revival of disco. Maybe we could again use a silly dance and fun music to help make life seem a little bit brighter if only until that Last Dance.

An Eyeful

2009-06-13T12:19:00.007-04:00

This getting older routine makes no sense at all. Sure I can understand how the wear and tear on my body would make one part after another groan, whine, crunch or go into outright rebellion and refuse to work anymore. That makes sense. Imagine using the same car for 30 or 40 or 50 years. That’s a lot of mileage over those years.

So my knees are going, my back is a mess, my neck gets kinked and this all makes sense. But then there are my eyes. I must admit that as an accessory to my face I have always liked my big blue eyes. They are great for flirting, flashing in anger, lighting up in joy or looking sad and tearful but when it comes to their actual purpose, to see, well, they have always been rather useless. And yet all of a sudden they seem to be working better. What’s with that?

I have needed glasses since the second grade. I still remember going with my Mom to this old Victorian house to see the eye doctor. I also remember that there were a lot of cracks in the side walk for I could never look up right after I got new glasses. (Those of you with glasses will surely understand that weird feeling as you try to get adjusted to new lenses.) And every year I would need new glasses as my vision continued to get worse. As I grew older I had one of the first hard contact lenses (ouch) and then tried every new brand as it came on the market. But my eyes were simply too much for contacts what with the bad astigmatism along with near sightedness and I eventually gave up and went back to glasses.

I’ve moved a lot over the past few decades which meant seeing new eye doctors. I have to admit to a wicked sense of anticipation every time I would tell the newest eye doctor that I can’t even read the big E at the top of the chart. Really. I may not have been officially blind without my glasses but I was damn near close to it.

In my forties my vision took another plunge into new territory. Now the next step for the majority of older folks with glasses is the dreaded bifocals. The horror stories you hear about getting use to new bifocals with that near and far part of the lens. Yet I figured it was just one more hurdle to jump as you age and I would try to do it with grace and dignity. Hmm. But there was just one small problem with this theory of mine. When I next saw the eye doctor I was told to forget bifocals – I was headed straight to trifocals! I should have known my eye progression wouldn’t be normal.

I’ve had my trifocals for about eight years now and yes I eventually got use to their three levels. I was to look out of the top part for distance, the middle part for, well, middle views and the bottom part for close ups. Sometimes it can be confusing. The worst is when you are looking at something that is far away yet beneath you. So there you are looking down but if you only move your eyes then you will be looking at the part of the lens for close ups. To look down at something in the distance I learned that I need to move my head down so that I can look out of the top of the lens which is for far away viewing.

But now something very strange is happening. I first noticed it when I tried to read the very very small print on a bottle of skin cream. I tried looking using the lower part of my glasses which is for close ups but I still couldn’t read the fine print. Out of frustration I tried reading it without my glasses. To my utmost surprise I discovered that I could read that fine print without glasses! Wow. But this was just a one time happening and a few years have gone by since that occurrence. I didn’t think about it until last week.

Last week I started a book with extremely small print. I tried using the lower part of my trifocals, or moving the book farther out and using the middle and far part of the lense but I still couldn't read the print. And so I once again removed my glasses and I could now read the book! Each time I picked up the book I would tried to use my glasses but every time I had to take them off and then I could read the book. For the first time in my life I could actually do something glasses free! How exciting!

But why? Why is my eyesight improving when everything else on my body is falling apart? Wouldn’t you want your eyesight to get worse? How cruel is this? Think about it, as your body wrinkles and sags and pouches out you can now see it clearly even without your glasses!

A Physical Therapy Reject

2009-06-07T07:13:00.010-04:00

My body and physical therapy simply don’t get along. You would think that by now I would have learned that every part of my body rebels if put through physical therapy (PT). Be it deep knee bends or relearning how to walk, my body either won’t comply or will take revenge if forced to do things like that. And yet I keep hoping and trying…

My first time with PT was in 2004 when my knee doctor wanted me to try it before considering knee surgery. I tried to tell everyone that it wouldn’t work but no one listened to me. So I went to a Rehab center where a nice therapist put me through a serious of knee exercises. My knee tried to comply until he asked me to do deep knee bends. Yeah right. Although deep knee bends and I had parted company years ago I nonetheless tried. That was on a Monday. When I returned on Wednesday I was using crutches because my knee had totally rebelled and no longer supported me at all. The therapist still was optimistic and had me do some easy stretching exercises. No surprise that it didn’t work. By Friday the therapist admitted defeat and sent me back to my surgeon who then immediately scheduled surgery.
So that is Body 1 – Physical Therapy 0.

The next battle was in 2005 after I had extreme pain in my legs due to lower back problems. Again a surgeon had suggested PT as a possible way to avoid surgery. As this time I really didn’t want that risky back surgery I agreed that PT was important. Unfortunately my body didn’t get the message. Sure, the first week was good as I was able to do all the exercises and reps on the machines. But the second week I found that instead of being able to do more reps I couldn’t even do what I had done the week before. Then things got really scary when my legs started to collapse underneath me. After a few days of my legs getting weaker and weaker, my therapist ordered me back to my doctor where we realized that surgery was necessary as I was losing the ability to walk. Body 2 – Physical Therapy 0.

Three months later in 2006 I returned to the same rehab facility and therapist. This time PT was to help me regain strength after having had the back surgery and months of bed rest. Ironically, I now had greater pain in my lower back than before the surgery when the pain had been in my legs. For three months I went to the PT facility 2-3 times each week and worked on their machines and did exercises on the mats. Before starting they measured the mobility in my back and after the three months measured me again. After all that sweat and pain and work there was no measurable change. A year later I was declared permanently disabled because of the constant pain in my lower back. {sigh} Body 3 –Physical Therapy 0.

In 2007 my left knee went out on me. This time my knee doc didn’t even bother sending me to a therapist and went straight to surgery. However, he did have me go to PT to strengthen my knee after the surgery. I went to a different facility but upon going in for the first time I heard a familiar voice call my name. Turns out the therapist I had a year ago now worked at this new place. Great. My claim to fame is being known at all the rehab centers. As for the therapy it neither hurt nor helped my knee. So I’d call it a truce and would keep it at Body 3 – Physical Therapy 0.

Last month I underwent a 10 hour surgery on my right leg because of blood clots. The wonderful surgeon saved my leg but I still am hooked up to medical equipment and the muscles and tendons in my leg and foot were badly damaged. So once again I need Physical Therapy this time to help me relearn how to walk and to be able to move my foot properly. As I couldn't drive, the therapist comes to my house and after the first week I noticed an improvement in my ability to walk and move my foot. But my leg and foot have experienced so much drama that they aren’t happy with me at all. After that first week of PT my foot began to swell up. It was just a little bit at first but over the next few days my foot got bigger and bigger and bigger and then my ankle and leg began to swell. I started to have flashbacks to that scene where Harry Potter made his nasty Aunt swell up like a big balloon.

To stop the swelling, my doctor now wants me to be flat on my back with my foot propped up way over my heart. So here I am lying down on my bed, lap top next to me and with my foot raised up on five pillows. Not exactly the most comfortable position but the swelling has gone down. As for the therapist, she still comes but instead of painful exercises she now is spending her time slowly stretching my foot and massaging my leg and foot tendons and muscles that had been affected by the surgery. That feels wonderful and my body is now getting exactly what it wanted. So I can’t help but wonder if PT has ever won out over what the body demands. Obviously for me that answer is no.
Body 4 – Physical Therapy – 0

Wedding Time

2009-06-02T09:22:00.005-04:00

I have received more wedding invitations in the past year than I have in the ten years before. All of a sudden the children of my sister and friends are getting married. It shouldn’t really surprise me since all of these future brides and grooms are in their mid to late twenties but it seems just like yesterday when I was their age and they were babies.

Like my nephews and nieces, I too got engaged in my late twenties. Ironically I can remember thinking that when I got married I didn’t want any of my nephews and nieces, who were toddlers at the time, in my wedding. Well, I didn’t have to worry about insulting my sisters by not wanting their kids at my wedding as there never was a wedding. You see I kept the one carat diamond ring and dumped the man. Best trade off in my life!

Unlike my sisters and friends I never did get around to getting married. Oh there were (and are) men in my life but I was too busy moving up the ladder in my career to want to be sidetracked by marriage. I realize that I am one of the lucky ones as I truly loved my life as the single career woman. Yet over the years I worked with a lot of professional women who hated being single. They wanted to be married so badly that one even hired a yenta! As much as these women wanted a future husband they wanted babies even more.

I have read about the maternal time clock and I saw it in these single friends but I personally never heard a single tick tock in my life. When a coworker would bring in their new infant everyone would gather around to ooh and ahh and jocky amongst themselves to hold it. Me? I stood far away and would give a little wave to the coworker then wonder how soon I could get everybody back to work without appearing too much of a grinch.

My allergy to babies became a joke both at work and in my family. My brother and sister-in-law have two little ones and I was a horrible Aunt when they were infants. Although I will stay with them now that they are older, I never offered to baby sit when the kids where babies, using my bad back as the excuse. On the other hand I did volunteer to baby-sit their dog and more recently their cat. Although that last time with the cat didn’t work out too well. I had a great time and the cat and I got along marvelously. Each morning when I got up the cat and I went to my bathroom and stood at separate faucets, and while I brushed my teeth the cat would drink from his faucet. It was pretty cool. However two years later and my brother is still trying to train the cat to stop drinking from their faucets. Oops.

Anyway, I managed to avoid all things to do with babies. I even reached my mid thirties before going to my first (and only) baby shower. Debbie, the pregnant coworker, thought it was so funny that hers would be the first shower I attended. She also made it such that I had no choice as her shower was held right after work in our conference room giving me no excuse. Now in my defense, I would have attended my sister’s baby shower but she blew it by going into labor early and having my nephew before the scheduled baby shower! Oh, I just realized I did go to my sister-in-laws shower but I stayed in the kitchen helping with food the whole time. Now that is a funny line. I have about as much to do with cooking as I do with babies so it says a lot if I chose cooking over babies!

But I am getting ahead of myself. It is wedding time for these twenty somethings and not baby showers. Although today the baby shower frequently comes years before the wedding. And that is something I just don’t understand. Why on earth would a smart young woman want to saddle herself with a child instead of going to college? I simply don’t get it. Then again, I don’t understand why a smart thirty year old would want to have a kid either…

Where's FEMA When You Need 'em?

2009-05-26T18:39:00.008-04:00

In the Sunshine State we often have problems of too much sun and not enough rain. In April we experienced draughts which in turn brought about wild fires. So when it started to rain in Central Florida on Sunday May 17 we breathed a sigh of relief.

We then woke up to rain on Monday and Tuesday never seeing the sun, a rare occurrence in this state. And the heavy rains continued on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. OK, so it rained a lot. No big deal. It was just rain, yes? We’ve lived through hurricanes and tornadoes. So what if it was torrential rain for five, six, seven days? It was still just rain, right?

Rain is a funny thing. When I lived in Vegas the town couldn’t handle if it rained even an eighth of an inch. But elsewhere, too little rain will help to create wild fires but too much rain and you had what we currently have – massive flooding. For eventually all this rain had no where to go. The east coast was especially hard hit with massive floods. People had to evacuate their homes when the floods filled their one-floor homes destroying first their cars in their driveways then their furniture and carpeting and anything else in its way. Schools were closed and evacuation shelters opened. The space shuttle had to land in California instead of here. And all because it rained.

So how much did it rain? I thought you would never ask. Ormond Beach, a town just north of Daytona, had the dubious honor of getting the most rain. Would you believe from Sunday May 17 to Saturday May 23 this town recorded 27.94 inches of rain! Daytona had 20.63 inches of rain and even my town in Central Florida had 13.39 inches. This is more rain then what we had from all three of the 2004 hurricanes combined! And this is just through Saturday. It has rained every day since then, too!

On Sunday our Governor applied to FEMA for federal help. In Daytona Beach alone, an estimated 1,000 homes and businesses were affected by the floods with about $55 million in damages. The paperwork for FEMA help was given to President Obama to sign on Sunday. What’s the delay? And why isn’t the media harassing Obama and FEMA for being slow to respond to this disaster? We need help now! And I do mean “we” as I now have a large wet spot on my ceiling from the torrential rains.

This is the same wet area that occurred due to Tropical Storm Fay last fall. After my insurance company looked at that earlier damage they said they would pay to fix my ceiling, but not my roof, claiming that my roof wasn’t damaged. I asked what if it happens again and was told they would come back out and fix my ceiling again. OK, once the federal government agrees with my Governor that my county is a federal disaster area I’ll call my insurance agent to come back. Then again maybe I’ll just wait. It’s supposed to rain every day this week and then next week we’ll be in hurricane season when the rains really get started! Anybody have an extra umbrella?

Friday Night Fiasco

2009-05-23T10:05:00.008-04:00

Last night I thought about getting a pizza but as it was pouring rain I took pity on the delivery guy and decided to actually cook. I decided to do a simple meal of a frozen chicken breast you bake in the oven for 10 minutes on each side and instant rice. So this really was a very easy dinner, something I’ve cooked many times before yet somehow last night turned into a complete disaster…

First I threw the chicken on a baking sheet and into the warmed up oven and set the timer for 10 minutes. I also set the microwave timer for 3 minutes and after it went off I turned on the burner and put a pan of water on it for the rice. By the time the first 10 minutes were up for the chicken, the water was boiling for the rice. Perfect! I turned the chicken over for another 10 minutes and threw the rice into the boiling water and set the microwave timer for 10 minutes. Piece of cake, right? Except that cake started to crumble very quickly.

Since my hospitalization I have these special sponges on my leg to generate growth in the wounds and the sponges are attached to a tube which goes to a small machine that provides the stimulation. I have to carry the small pouch wherever I go although there is about 2 feet of tubing from my leg to the machine which gives me some maneuverability. So each time I got up to go to the kitchen I had to bring it with me and laid it on a counter while I worked at the stove. But after setting the last timer I went to throw something away. Turned out there was more than 2 feet from the counter, where the pouch was, to the garbage bag. Next thing I hear is a loud bang as the equipment was pulled to the hard kitchen floor by the stretched tube on my leg. Oh s**t.

Apparently dropping the little machine wasn’t something it liked. Although it was making a very loud noise it wasn’t working at all. I moved into the living room so that I could sit down and take a look at it. Having no clue what I was looking for I nonetheless opened the cloth covering of the machine. When in doubt reboot, right? Wrong, turning it on and off didn’t work. I did however notice that much of the racket came from the detachable container on top of the little machine which collected blood and stuff from my leg. Hmm. Could it be that simple? To my utmost surprise it was! For once I took off the damaged container and replaced it with a new one my little machine purred and worked perfectly! Yeah!

I didn’t gloat too long over my cleverness for all of a sudden I realized my injured leg felt wet. I looked down to see a trickle of blood running down my leg which had created a stain about the size of a half dollar on my carpeting. Great. So back to the kitchen for paper towels to clean up my leg and try to clean up the blood stain on my carpeting.

There was still about five minutes left until my dinner was ready so I sat back on my couch, propped my injured leg up and watched the news. I barely had gotten comfortable when I heard a loud bang and then another bang coming from my kitchen. What the ? I ran, or my version of running with my injured leg and carrying the pouch back into the kitchen. A first glance showed that nothing else had fallen to the floor and everything was where it should be. But a second glance clued me in to what happened.

My microwave had killed a plate. Apparently I had not turned on my microwave timer but rather had turned on my microwave! Now I am the queen of the microwave as most of my meals are zapped but the crown has slipped a bit after this amateur mistake. As for the plate, it was a goner. In fact it is still in my microwave as I couldn’t bring myself to clean up my own mess.

If you’re wondering, I keep a plate in my microwave because so many things like popcorn or small bags of veggies suggest you place them on a plate before zapping it. As I had popcorn the prior night I simply kept the plate in the microwave for the next time I might need it. Now I know rule number 1 of microwaving - never turn on the microwave with nothing in it. But in my “what can go wrong will go wrong” evening I must have turned on the microwave itself instead of turning on the microwave’s timer.

As for the dinner, itself? Although I followed the directions, the chicken came out rock solid on the outside and dry and stringy on the inside and the rice was very sticky. In other words it was about as bad as it could get. Tonight, I don’t care how hard it is raining, the delivery guy can just get wet when he delivers my pizza!

A Letter to My Family

2009-05-21T14:51:00.008-04:00

I am back! But instead of my usual tongue in cheek or sarcastic blog I would like to share this open letter.

Dear family,

I tried to thank each of you for all that you have done for me over the past month. But it seems as if all the members of my family have the same trouble in accepting thanks and gratitude. Perhaps if you had let me thank you then I wouldn’t have to resort to this open letter. So consider it your fault that I will now publicly tell the world how grateful I am to have such a wonderful, loving family.

I vaguely remember calling my brother to tell him that I had been admitted to the hospital on Wednesday April 15th. The next 7-10 days are basically a complete blank. The first few days of this blackout I was told that I went through tests which I don't remember although I do vaguely recall dealing with unimaginable pain. This was not new for me. Since Dec. 2007 I continuously complained of a cold foot, blue toes and horrific calf pain. Yet neither the hospital nor doctor I had been seeing had found the massive blood clots in my right leg. Now, eighteen months later the clots had destroyed two of my three arteries and saving my leg was very touch and go. This time, though, I was in a good hospital and I had a wonderful surgeon who started operating at 8pm on a Friday night and didn’t finish until 6am the next morning! Luckily through his skill and my family’s prayers I woke up in ICU in pain, but with both legs attached.

I truly have the best family in the world. While I went through tests, surgery and initial recovery, I later learned that my family was scrambling to make arrangements. I entered the hospital late Weds, had surgery Fri-Sat and my mother, who lives in TX, was by my bedside on Sunday! She must have been a whirlwind, dropping everything to fly out with just a few days notice. Pretty impressive but even more so when I mention that she is 81 years old! And what is even more impressive is that, even though she no longer likes to drive on highways or drive someone else’s car, for the next week she nonetheless got in my car and drove on the highway to get to my hospital. Although I wasn’t always coherent when she saw me, I truly appreciated that my Mom was there. I may have had my 51st birthday four days after the surgery but there still is something comforting to having your mom by your side when you are that injured. Mom, I wasn’t able to get you a Mother’s Day card this year but just know that I am very grateful for everything you did but most of all for simply being there.

After three weeks of being in the hospital I was next moved to a “rehab”center. The doctor wanted me someplace where the nurses were trained to change the dressing of this fancy wound vac on my leg and that also had a Physical Therapy clinic to help me relearn how to walk. I heard “rehab” and imagined something like the Betty Ford clinic or one of those rehab places all the celebrities go to. Wrong. It turned out to be a nursing home, circa 1970. I had an 88 year old roommate, a hand crank bed, no phone, truly gross food and surly aides. No surprise that my brother, who drove me there, knew I was upset. But unbeknownst to me, that evening my family was again calling each other and talking about my distress over the nursing home so that the next morning my phone continuously rang with each of them calling to cheer me up.

Two days after I landed in this nursing home, my big sister arrived. She hates hospitals and even admitted to feeling a bit light headed the first time she came to my nursing home. Yet she overcame her fears and was wonderful. I worked out with the Physical Therapists in the morning and then she would arrive around noon with much needed food as I refused to eat what they served! She also brought clean clothes so that I was finally out of that damned hospital gown. She even was able to arrange for us to use the facility’s small beauty salon so that my sister could then wash my hair. Pure heaven as this was the first time it was washed in over 10 days! Sis, I know how much you hate anything medical so I am especially grateful for your bedside visits each day. Your help and simply your company every afternoon kept me relatively sane in that depressing place. Thanks so much!

After a very tedious weekend by myself, I was more than ready to go home. Mid afternoon on Monday I received a much anticipated call – my oldest sister had landed from TX and would be there in an hour. Now unlike our other sister, this one is a nurse and thrives on all the medical stuff. Once she arrived I didn’t give her much time to catch her breath before I sent her out to talk to the nurse and director. She could talk their language plus she wasn’t shy about doing whatever it would take to get me out of there. Thanks to her help we broke out of that nursing home and for the first time in over a month I slept in my own bed. Yeah!

For the next five days I had my very own RN to take care of me. She drove me to doctor’s appointments where she and the docs would talk way over my head and then she would explain it later to me. She also did grocery runs, cooked and completed getting my house set up for me. I am finding that I appreciate her help even more now that she is gone and I am having to do everything myself! How lucky could I be to have my own personal nurse who took such good care of me!

And throughout all of this there was my brother. I live in a 2-story townhouse a master bedroom suites on each floor. I had taken the upstairs for my bedroom while the downstairs was a guest bedroom and library, with up to 400 books overflowing the bookshelves. As I can now barely walk much less climb steps my brother arranged for movers to reverse the bedrooms so that all my bedroom furniture is now downstairs. But before the movers came, he boxed up all 400+ books by himself! He also made numerous airport runs as our Mom and sisters were flying in and out. He took care of my bills and helped me with my mail. Now with our sisters and Mom back in their own homes, I probably will be calling more on my brother for help as I still can’t drive or move around very steadily. I’ll try not to bother him too much but it is comforting to know that he is only a few minutes away. Mike, you are a terrific brother who was there for me this past month and I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate all you have done for me.

I hear my friends talk of their families; of being estranged from their siblings and how their elderly parents refuse to do much of anything. I have always appreciated my family but this experience makes me even more grateful. We may live far apart and in many ways we live very different lives yet the bond we have to each other is amazingly strong.

Mom and siblings, I don’t say this much but I hope y’all know how much I love you. And I can’t begin to thank you for this past month. Yes I am grateful for the clean clothes, the rearrangement of my house, the trips to the doctors but I am more thankful simply for the fact that you were there for me. I am humbled by the knowledge that all of you interrupted your busy lives and left your own families to be with me. And what could have been a very depressing and stressful time instead was filled with laughter, love and friendship. So thank you family. You truly are the best.

Out-rageously Bad

2009-04-07T11:50:00.010-04:00

Have you ever gone out to a restaurant and ended up having one of those times where nothing went right? Well, that was my experience yesterday. I don’t go out all that much but I am beginning to understand why one restaurant after another is going out of business. And after last night, I can think of another restaurant that should close its doors.

I went to the Outback for dinner yesterday which was the first time in years since I had been there. Being a Tuesday night there was no wait and we were immediately seated. And that was about the extent of our good luck. Have you seen its menu lately? That was the first indication that hard times were hitting the Outback. I quickly realized that most of the better steaks are now only available in large sizes for equally big prices. No more half portions available which is what I always got in the past. Darn.

I ended up ordering the Outback Special sirloin, which I could get in 6 oz. for only $9.95. For sides, I thought I would try their new wedge lettuce and a baked potato with everything on the side. My friend ordered the Prime Rib with vegetables and baked potato with everything on the side. It was very important to me that they cook my steak without their spices because I am allergic to garlic. I also wanted my steak cooked medium rare while he ordered his medium. Got that? Well, they sure didn’t!

What went wrong, you ask? Well, my wedge salad wasn't exactly what I thought it would be but at least it was very large. So I gave half to my friend who didn't have a salad. Good thing. For he took the first few bites only to discover that the Ranch Salad had garlic in it. Of course we both had dressing all over our halves so there went the salad for me. Double darn.

It didn't take very long to get the dinners. Have you notices how small the plates are getting so that it makes your dinner look bigger? I then caught my friend looking at my small steak and to my surprise he reached out and scraped a bit off the top of my steak with his fork. Excuse me? Turns out he realized before I did (luckily) that they put seasonings all over my steak - including garlic. OK now this is really not good.

So my plate went back to the kitchen to get a steak without seasonings - as I had ordered. Once that was settled, he started in on his Prime Rib. Except now we realized that it was a very dark red - definitely not what anyone would consider to be medium, as he had requested. The manager came by and we pointed this out to him. But he tried to argue that you can't tell how well done a Prime Rib is by its color. Huh?

The Prime Rib then followed my Outback Special back to the kitchen for the cooks to try again. I should also mention they didn't even get the potato's right as they put the toppings on top and not on the side as requested! You would think that with so many restaurants closed they could hire the cream of the crop instead of this group of idiots!

Not too much later, out comes both of our dinners, again. According to the chef, the original Prime Rib slice was the medium cut based on how today's Prime Rib was cooked. Wow. Where is Gordon Ramsey when you need him? For basically the manager told us that the chef had undercooked the Prime Rib to the point where "medium" was what anyone else would call rare and to get a "medium" piece they took a slice from the "well done" section. And even the new slice stilled looked suspiciously rare.

But we gave up at this point and simply ate what we had. I did, though, discover why they normally cover the Outback "Special" in seasonings for without that it was awful! It was so bad that I cut off a slice and pushed it under my potato like a little kid trying to hide the fact that they didn't eat it! And as much as I love cold left over steak, for the first time ever, I refused to take any of this so called steak home.

All in all it was one of the worst meals I have had in a very long time. We both vowed never to come again unless of course the manager gave us a reason. So did the manager give us a coupon for some sort of discount the next time or even a break on our bill? No to all of the above. Instead he offered us a free desert. Thanks but no thanks. I couldn’t believe they would try to make us forget about a really horrible meal and bad customer service with a friggin' piece of cake. Besides there was no way that this dreadful dining experience could have any kind of sweet ending….

My Amazing But Crazy Niece

2009-03-31T09:49:00.014-04:00

Have you ever known someone who you weren’t sure if you wanted to shake some sense into them or if you wanted to shake their hand in admiration. Someone who has done something so outrageous that it simply takes your breath away and if it wasn’t somebody you knew you would be in awe of their adventures. But since it is someone you know and love you instead find yourself holding your breath until their lunacy, er, adventure is over.

That person is my niece. No one quite understands where my sister’s daughter gets her adventurous spirit. Her stubbornness, willfulness and determination to do what she has set out to do, well, yes, that does run in the family. But her love of the outdoors and her hiking, camping and roughing isn’t something many of us have done since Girl Scouts.

Her travels started off relatively normal. Shortly after graduating from college she went back to New Zealand where she had earlier spent a semester. Other than her constant bungee jumping from mountain cliffs that was a basically tame trip.

Her next adventure became more nerve wracking for those at home. She and my sister, her Mom, flew to Italy where they spent two weeks. OK that was nice. But after my sister left, my niece took off for Croatia where she spent two weeks hiking by herself throughout Eastern Europe! Her journey took her through Slovenia, Sarajevo, Bosnia-Hercegovina, Budapest and other unpronounceable cities and villages. She wrote of spending nights in small shepard’s huts scattered around mountain paths for hikers to use overnight. Once she shared a hut with a group where everyone spoke different languages. Other times she would spend the night alone in a hut on some mountain trail where no one knew where she was. Oh yeah, her family back home was nervous about that trip!

She safely returned from that adventure when six months later she headed off for Peru. Luckily that was only a month long trip. Reality then set in and so for the next year she worked in a real job where she saved every cent. She would need it for her next most awesome adventure. She quit her job in December knowing that next fall she would be attending graduate school. This left her half a year to live out her most exciting and longest adventure yet. And where did she go this time? Would you believe – Asia.

My idiotic niece decided to spend five months hiking through Asia! She started off by flying to Delhi. She didn’t seem to care for India but did see the major tourist attractions including the Taj as shown to the right. She cut short her stay and headed for Napal where she then took off for small villages in the countryside. She went on a canoe ride down a river teaming with wildlife (crocodiles, monkeys, peacocks etc.). Then she switched from a canoe to an elephant who kept throwing her off his back and on a long drop into the river!

In Kathmandu she again hiked up mountains where she took breathtaking photos like the one on the right where you could even see Mount Everest in the background. Wow. It really was spectacular. Along the way, she met two other twenty something women who were also planning on hiking up the mountains and so she spent a few days with them. Surprisingly, all three were redheads. I would have loved to see the reaction of the people in these small villages in Napal who rarely see one redhead much less three woman with bright red hair!

From the serenity of a mountain village she next flew to the people filled Bangkok. During the flight she befriended an English speaking journalist and his wife. So upon arriving in Bangkok she ended up going with them to visit the expats in a Bangkok prison!

Yes, you read that correctly. Now can you see why we want to shake her? Who goes off with complete strangers to a Bangkok jail? Is she nuts? After that she then saw the sights that tourists are supposed to visit there. Much better. After Bangkok, my niece took off for Laos, which is where she was last weekend. When I asked my sister why her daughter went to Laos I was told it has a lot of pristine forests and jungles with a lot of wildlife. Apparently so as my nieces's latest adventure was to take a tour where you hiked for hours then zip lined from tree to tree (as shown in the picture) even spending nights in huge tree houses over looking the jungle. Ok, that sounded cool.
I have no idea where she is right now. All I know is that she won’t return home until her brother’s graduation in May. So three more months in Asia where I think she even plans to hike through Vietnam! South Vietnam, I hope, but with my niece, who knows?

My sister says she won’t be at peace until her daughter returns. Who could blame her? I still haven’t decided if my niece is the most courageous person I know or the most naïve. At least this time she has a cell phone to call home occasionally. She is also finding internet cafes along the way where she is writing of her adventures in her own blog. And adventures they are, definitely something to remember for your whole life with plenty of stories to someday tell her children. And as nerve racking as it is for us back home, I still can’t help but brag about my adventurous, wonderful, risk taking niece. What an amazing life she is living!

Technical Difficulties

2009-03-23T10:41:00.007-04:00

A couple of days ago I had a phone call from a former neighbor of my mother’s. Although Mom had moved to TX nearly two years ago she still has a condo that has yet to be sold. (Anybody want to buy a beautiful condo on a golf course in sunny FL?) Her next door neighbor had continued to keep an eye on Mom’s old home and was calling to get Mom’s phone number. She wanted to call Mom to get her permission to use the condo’s empty garage for a few days. I knew Mom wouldn’t mind at all but in contrast to people my age and younger who would have used that garage without ever saying a word I appreciated this neighbor’s thoughtfulness. Let me change that for it wasn’t just thoughtfulness but respect that describes the neighbor’s action. Respect for my Mom and respect for her property. It is a shame that these common courtesies such as respect and thoughtfulness seem to be disappearing as this older generation passes away. Actually that isn’t what I intended to write about but somehow it snuck into this blog. Perhaps I will write more about it later but now back to what I had originally planned to discuss.

So the neighbor calls me to get Mom’s phone number. She ruefully admitted that after Mom moved Mom had sent her an email with all the new contact information but the neighbor wasn’t sure where she saved that email on her PC. Now this exchange seems to be a normal conversation as all of us at some point has put an email in what we thought was the perfect file but then forgot where that was. Except there was one major difference that made this conversation pretty amazing. My mother and her neighbor are both widowed eighty something year olds!

In my old job I had forty and even thirty year olds who were afraid of the computer and had to be pushed into learning any new applications. And now here is a much older generation, who knew nothing about today’s technology, buying a PC then learning how to use it all on their own. They didn’t have co-workers to help them or an entire IT department to support them or had bosses who pushed them. Most of them never went to seminars or took a class. Perhaps they had help from their children but sometimes that could be more of a hindrance than help as the kids could go into the weeds on technicalities they didn’t need to know. So for the most part, these courageous and adventurous senior citizens slowly taught themselves by trial and error all that they needed to know about their new PC. Even if all they can do is send emails it is still quite impressive and I don’t think these old folks get the credit they deserve.

It is ironic, though, in what the oldest generation is willing to try or not. Thirty years ago when ATM’s first came into use the standard rule of thumb was that senior citizens will not use them, preferring the human touch instead. To this day, my mother, who continues to learn and become more and more proficient on her computer, has yet to use her ATM on a regular basis. Actually, I think she has only used it once, and that was with the help of my brother-in-law, just so she knows how to use it if for some reason she had to quickly get money from her checking account.

So this same group who are afraid to use the ATM nonetheless have bought and taught themselves how to use a PC. Sure most of them mainly use it for emails but even that is a pretty impressive accomplishment. But not all senior citizens are like these two elderly women. The mother of one friend is completely technophobic and has not, nor ever will, use a computer. (Perhaps it is no surprise that her daughter was one of my employees that had to be strongly encouraged to learn a new application!) The mother of another friend does have a PC and uses it for emails but God forbid if anything goes wrong or does something out of the norm. And even my Mom ruefully yet secretly proudly admits that she is considered the PC wiz at her senior community! Good for her!

To be fair, I should probably tell the whole story about that call from the neighbor. When she called, she was the one who was laughing at herself as she admitted that she couldn’t find Mom’s phone number. Well, the last laugh is on me. Why? After two years of calling Mom at least once a week I still couldn’t tell the neighbor Mom’s phone number. Even worse, I realized I didn’t have it written down anywhere. Now I was the one laughing as I explained that in order to get Mom’s number I would have to hang up and then look at the speed dial directory on my phone! How embarrassing! Luckily the neighbor completely understood my dilemma. So we hung up, I searched my phone’s directory, wrote down Mom’s new number then called the neighbor back to tell her Mom’s number. Whew. After a lot of effort on both of our parts she finally had the phone number and could call my Mom. (And I am going to go low tech now by actually writing down in an old fashion address book all the numbers in my phone’s speed dial directory so this won’t happen again!)

Survived Another St Patrick's Day

2009-03-18T09:12:00.004-04:00

I did it. I made it through another St. Patrick’s Day. No I don’t mean that I survived a day of drinking stale green beer but rather that I simply got through it. You see when it comes to holidays this is my second least favorite one after Halloween. Why this dislike of the holiday? I guess there are a number of reasons other than those creepy little men in green.

Probably the main reason is that my name is Patti and I have red hair. You would think then that this day could be construed as a celebration of me, right? Wrong. Every year somebody would mention this or at least ask how I am going to celebrate the day assuming that I am Irish. And every year I have to tell them that I am not Irish. In fact my ancestors are primarily from England with a few from Scotland (hence the red hair). I suppose I could simply lie for the day but with my background it is almost an insult to be confused with the Irish. I would even go so far as to wear orange on St. Paddy’s Day. Just as green is the symbol for Irish Catholics; orange is the symbol for Scottish Protestants. Granted no one remembers that fact but it still would give me gleeful pleasure to wear orange and to occasionally get a strange glance from one of the few who did understand the significance.

Here’s another thing I don’t understand about this holiday. Growing up we had two “ethnic” holidays – St. Patrick’s Day and Columbus Day. In addition to celebrating everything Italian we would also give homage to the explorer who gave this country its name – America. Columbus Day use to be on par with St. Patrick’s Day with a big parade and all the accompanying hoopla. But now it is as if Columbus Day has fallen out of favor. Maybe this is due to current history now telling us that Columbus may have discovered America in 1492 but he was not the first to cross the ocean to this country. Or perhaps it is a backlash to the association of Italians with the Mobs. Whatever the reason, today Columbus Day has been regaled to being a minor holiday on par with Flag Day while St. Patrick’s Day retains its hold on America.

Yesterday for once CNN, MSNBC and Fox were in synch as all of the news anchormen and women wore green. I couldn’t get away from it. The White House even put green dye in the front water fountain! I simply don’t get it. I just don’t understand why everyone is Irish, as the saying goes, on St. Patrick’s Day. Maybe it is because the entire purpose of the holiday is to wear green and drink. Granted when I put it that way then perhaps I can see the allure of the holiday. And now that I think about it I might also be missing another appeal to the day simply because I live in the south.

Up north by mid March everybody has cabin fever and people are tired of the snow and cold. St. Patty’s Day allows you to get outside and release a lot of that pent up energy. It is a free pass to get with your friends and drink as much as you want. Plus it is a sign that Spring isn’t that far away even if it is still cold and miserable outside. And like Halloween it is also a day where you are allowed to act a bit silly what with those ridiculous green hats and fake Irish accents people affect.

So after thinking it through I guess I can understand the appeal of the day. But that doesn’t mean that next year I will be wearing green, putting shamrocks on my door and eating cabbage and corn beef for dinner. Then again maybe a few mugs of beer, even if it is green, might help to make the day go by quicker next St Patrick’s Day!

Next thing is Sexting

2009-03-16T10:26:00.008-04:00

Have you heard about the new term “sexting”? Apparently teenage girls are posing for nude pictures for their boyfriends which are then passed around via cell phones and blackberries. Sending a picture to your boyfriend is a trend that goes back to the beginning of time. Hell, even the movie Titanic included a girl wanting a nude pic of herself! Anyway, sexting is just this generations way of giving their boyfriend a picture of themself. But instead of wearing tight sweaters or bathing suits girls today are in their birthday suits. And unlike earlier photos or portraits, these pics eventually get passed around and never go away.

Here in Florida there is a case that has received national attention. A 16 year old girl took nude pictures of herself on her cell and sent them to her 17 year old boyfriend. She later broke up with him and he became hurt and angry. So he somehow sent her nude photos to everyone in her cell phone address book which included her parents, grandparents and even some teachers. Since the girl is 16 and the boyfriend recently turned 18 he will be labeled as a felony sex offender for sending child pornography. He has now been turned down from the college he was supposed to attend this fall plus he will have to register himself as a sex offender until he is in his mid 40s. What he did was wrong and the girl was horribly embarrassed but it doesn’t seem to me to be cause to ruin this kid’s entire life. Our laws just aren’t keeping up with technological and generational changes such as sexting.

Now there are a lot of things kids do today that make absolutely no sense to me. But I must admit that sexting is one trend which I can almost understand. If truth be told, when I hear them talking about girls sending pictures to their boyfriends I keep having a flashback to this yellow bikini. That is what I wore when my roommate took pictures of me that I sent to an old boyfriend who was in the Air Force. He had asked for some pictures and although the romance was about over I was nonetheless flattered. Besides I grew up on those old war movies where the soldiers always had pictures of the girl back home so it seemed like the thing to do. Nudity never even entered the equation back then. Instead I had this cute yellow bikini and for some long forgotten reason stood on the fire escape in my college dorm while my girlfriend snapped away.

So the question to ask myself now is if I would have taken the pictures of myself nude? I don’t think so. If I were in college today, I could probably see myself donning a smaller bikini but I think that is as adventurous as I would get. And I definitely couldn’t imagine taking any nude pictures while I was in high school. Granted I was only a few months out of high school when I stood on the fire escape in my bikini but there is still a world of difference between 16 and 18.

What do you think? Should we instead be admiring kids today for feeling comfortable enough to pose nude and for having a healthy view of their bodies unlike earlier Puritanical generations? It really must it must be very confusing. On one hand we teach young girls to be proud of their bodies and not to be ashamed of how they look. Then these girls simply take the age old trend of giving a picture of yourself to your boyfriend to the next level by posing nude for them. Then society freaks out by these very same pictures and calls it smut, obscene and pornography. And both the girl and boy’s life is changed forever. Until this story I hadn’t thought of my youthful pictures for years. But for this girl, anyone, including future employers, boyfriends and even some day her own children will now be able to find her nude picture on the internet.

I don’t know what the answer is. I just know that the kid here in Florida is not a sex offender or child pornographer. His only fault is in thinking with the wrong head – which is true of nearly every teenage boy (and older ones too)! As for that 16 year old girl and all the teen girls, they need to keep their panties on, for more than one reason. Yet we also still need to teach them to be proud of their bodies. It is a difficult line to walk.

Oh wait. When these kids are older if they still want to take nude pictures of each other, they need to forget using cell phones and go low tech instead. And if you're a baby boomer this answer might bring a little smile to your face. Can you say …. Polaroids?

Dressing Down

2009-03-13T09:58:00.004-04:00

There has been a lot of hype over Michelle Obama and her sleeveless dresses. I had noticed a long time ago that she favored this style. I didn’t really care for it when I first saw it, and I still didn’t care for the look after it became a major story. I think there are a lot of parts on a woman’s body that are beautiful but, to me, the upper arms aren’t one of them. Of course I have to ask myself if I am too much “old school” when it comes to fashion. I admit that most of these fashion rules I grew up with were pretty silly yet oh how everyone adhered to them and were shocked by those who didn’t.

Y’all know about how you weren’t supposed to wear white before Memorial Day or after Labor Day. Everybody says that “rule” is pretty much out the window and you should wear white whenever you want to wear it. OK, I can do that, especially living here in Florida where it is silly to stop wearing white based on northern temperatures. So this fashion style makes sense down south and everybody will tell you that you can wear white up north anytime, too. But here’s the thing. How many women do you actually see wearing white as they trudge through the snow or sleet on their way to work? You might see a white winter jacket but underneath all those layer of clothes I bet you rarely see a white dress or white jeans or even a white t-shirt. So people might say that the Memorial Day – Labor Day wearing of white is no longer true but what they are wearing is a different story, I suppose you could say they are telling a little white lie...

One fashion accessory which is starting to go away is stockings. Yeah! How many times have you carefully put on your last clean pair only to accidentally put your thumb through a leg as you were doing a final adjustment? Or bought the wrong size yet still tried to wear them. If they were too small then you had to pull with Herculean strength to get them up your legs but throughout the day the top would ride down by your crotch while your legs felt like a pair of tightly packed sausages. Stockings that are too big aren’t much better, either. By the end of the day you feel like that saggy baggy elephant from the children’s story while the top part is pulled up to your boobs. And during the summer nothing is worse than a pair of cheap stockings. You know, the kind that feels as thick as the hosen worn by Heidi plus they are hot and itchy and you just feel gross in them.

On the other hand, there is something to be said for an expensive pair of stockings that fit just right. Sure there is always the fear of getting a run in them but a good pair of stockings can make your legs look shapelier and for pale folks, like me, can give your legs the illusion of a great tan. Anyway, I guess even an old school person like me could get used to not wearing stockings except on special occasions.

But I digress. What do you think of Michelle’s sleeveless look? Yes, she is muscular but they almost look too toned, too big. It just doesn’t look very feminine, at least not to me. Somebody said that she is copying Jackie Kennedy who apparently wore sleeveless shifts back in the 60’s when her husband was president. Jackie also wore little pillbox hats and white gloves but I don’t see Michelle putting those on any time soon. I was also going to say that Jackie and Michelle are day and night in terms of physique but people may take that the wrong way. Yet it’s true. Jackie was petite with these thin little arms coming out of her sleeveless dresses. Michelle, on the other hand, is a fairly big woman and her strong big forearms look like they belong to the washerwoman and not the First Lady.

There is, however, one trait both First Ladies’ do have in common. Whatever they wear it will immediately become a “fashion statement” and copied by the multitudes of women who will wear anything, as long as it is in style. For example, in her official portrait, as shown above, Michelle is wearing a sleeveless dress, of course, and all you could see where her arms. It almost looks as if she is about to go wrestle somebody!

Unfortunately this look is being copied by other women. Lately I have noticed a number of anchorwomen in sleeveless dresses. Now maybe it is me but it seems pretty stupid to be reporting about a blizzard while sitting at the anchor desk wearing a sleeveless dress. But at least these were fairly young woman with nice toned thin arms. But you just know that women who really shouldn’t be in a sleeveless dress will soon be wearing them, too. Ugh. It is bad enough to look at the big toned muscles of Michelle but it will be worse is to see old women wearing this style. Nothing ruins a look quicker than seeing all that loose hanging skin from the underarm of an older woman. That flappy batwing needs to be kept away from the viewing eye at all times.

OK maybe I am being too harsh. For most people, it doesn’t matter what they wear. If you feel good in it and as long as it is decent then I say go for it. That really is the beauty of fashion nowadays; the old rules don’t apply any more. Except, notice I said for most people. Our First Lady should be held to a higher standard as she represents all women in our country. Sorry Michelle, it might not be fair but it is true; but if you want to appear “strong” then take your cue from the strongest of all American women – the Statue of Liberty. It appears that our Lady Liberty has rolled up her sleeves and is ready to work but even she still keeps her forearms covered!

Hot? Not!

2009-03-03T06:55:00.003-05:00

I am not happy. In fact I am more than a little annoyed. Unfortunately the only culprit is me and it is rather difficult to stay mad with myself. So why am I so angry with me? It is actually my body that is annoying me. Now people who know me know that I really do have a lot to be annoyed about. But right now I am not talking about my spine or neck or back or any of the really awful disabled parts.

See here’s the problem. I live in Florida where this time of year it should be in the mid 70’s. Instead another cold front has hit plummeting out temperatures into the 30’s at night and 50’s during the day. That’s cold for us! And I am freezing, especially my poor feet. So, what I want to know is where the hell are all those hot flashes when I could actually use them? This cold front hit on Saturday and not one single hot flash since then!

I mean, really, this is so unfair. And you know, just know, that by the end of this week when we are topping off at 80 again the hot flashes will make a reappearance just as the icy feet disappear. Then again I should be use to this as I am in my fourth year of hot flashes. {sigh} I think I will be 80 and still complaining of hot flashes. And knowing my luck they will still be no where in sight during cold weather when they could be useful! Getting old is so much fun….

Hearing Voices

2009-03-01T08:58:00.008-05:00

Does your computer talk to you? Mine does and it is driving me crazy. Like so many other people (ok “many” actually consists of my two sisters and a friend) I typically watch TV with my laptop in front of me. I admit that I am a screen hog. Yes I just made that up but I am sure there is some slang to describe a person who keeps a number of different websites running at the same time. The PC guys at work would always chastise me for having 2 or 3 huge Excel files up along with a couple of Word documents and my email. They were always telling me I should only have one or two things open at the same time and I would nod my head and then as soon as they were gone I would reopen the files that they had made me close.

Anyway you get the idea that I have a bunch of websites open at the same time. After reading my mail and skimming the headlines I normally forget about all these open web sites on the internet. Instead I’ll be writing on Word or dare I admit? I am playing games…. So there I am playing Gin and watching TV when out of the blue I hear somebody talking to me. The first time it happened I was so startled that I nearly jumped out of my chair.

It has happened so often that I am now use to hearing strange voices talking to me. (Why do I now hear in my head my sisters who softly say in a very patronizing tone “Sure there are strange voices.”.) I am digging myself into a deeper grave with all this, aren’t I? So let me rephrase what I am trying to say - I am use to strange voices coming from my lap top. OK that still doesn’t sound much better, more like the opening sentence in a Stephen King novel! Nonetheless, there really are strange voices!

The hard part is finding where the voices are coming from on my open web pages. Sometimes there are videos embedded into a page, especially the news web pages, and for no reason at all the video will automatically start playing. The trick is to find the video and stop it before it is finished. So I frantically browse through the open sites until I see the video with somebody talking away. Of course the sound control is always in different places making it hard to locate. Sometimes I get so frustrated that I simply click on the red X on the top right and delete the whole page to not only turn off the video but to also prevent that page from talking to me again!

Then there are the times where I go through every tab containing a page on the web but can’t find anybody who is talking. Two or three times I will do this so I could find the culprit and shut it up. Finally I realize it isn’t on any of the sites that I opened. Instead it is on a rogue page. (Yes, I just made up that phrase, too.) But I am sure you know what I mean. A rogue page is a second separate page opened independently when you open up a web site. As soon as I find that rogue page I immediately delete it from my screen. Ahhh. The sound silence….

It has reached the point where I know which of my regular sites will talk to me. I have one web page I use to find clip art for my blogs. But every time I open it up it also opens a rogue page. This rogue page always talks to me; often there are these little balls with faces and high squeaky voices shouting out “Oh my God!”. Very annoying.

But more annoying is when old previously mute web sites start to talk. Earlier this week one of my news web pages started to talk and at a most inopportune time. There has always been a video with one of their reporters on their webpage and in the past you had to click the start button before the anchorperson started their spiel. But a couple of nights ago the video kicked on without my telling it to do so. There I was on the phone when suddenly this video turned on and began to talk to me. I was not amused. Of course the person on the phone wanted to know who was now with me in my bedroom talking to me. Huh, there’s a new excuse – it was the PC talking! So I immediately deleted the page before it got me into more trouble.

And then there was last night when a new noise erupted from my computer. I was watching TV and not paying any attention to my lap top when out of nowhere I heard this high pitched beeping sound from my computer. This sounded a lot like the noise my PC makes when I don’t have it totally plugged in to the electricity cord and without power it is telling me it is now about to run out of battery. So when this noise erupted from my PC I immediately checked to see if it was plugged in. It was. Just to be sure I also checked the little plug icon on the bottom right of my screen and it, too, showed it was plugged in with 100% of the battery in reserve. Ok. That’s good but why the beeping?

I could neither find a rogue page nor any video’s that might have automatically started up on any of my opened web pages. So I deleted one after another web site that I had open and yet the beeping continued. I finally found the culprit, The Drudge Report, which had this blinking ad at the top and I think the noise was coming from that. I deleted that page and finally, silence.

Yes, I know that the advertisers and web masters are using noise on their websites to get your attention. And obviously they are getting mine. On the other hand, offending the readers and forcing them to delete the entire web page probably isn’t a very good marketing ploy in the long run. Yet that is exactly what I will do in the future; delete any offending web page that is making unsolicited annoying sounds. And as bothersome as these talking web sites are, it also confirms my growing suspicion that PC’s are a lot like children. More on that theory another time but for now think of it this way - PC’s should be treated like Victorian children – seen but not heard!

Midnight Musings

2009-02-24T12:01:00.006-05:00

I was at a Chinese restaurant over the weekend and overheard the employees speaking Chinese. I joked with my friend that I could never speak Chinese as I can't sing and tones are important in that language. That made me wonder.... Would a tone deaf child in China be like a dyslexic child in America?

Call Me*

2009-02-21T17:24:00.009-05:00

I hate the fact that more and more people are scrapping their home phones and using only their cell phones. Logically, I can see why people might do this. If your cell phone is cheaper and you get good coverage then why bother paying for two separate phones? It does seem rather pointless to keep both.

Think about it. There is this phone sitting all by itself in your empty house while you are away at work day after day. Yet you are paying for it whether you use it or not. And when you are home, so is your cell phone so then you really don’t need both, do you? In fact, I can only think of two reasons why people should keep their home phones.

First, let’s say that more than one person wants to talk to the caller at the same time. You would need that home phone with two or more phones connected so that each of you could get on a different phone. You just can’t do that with a cell phone. Although I suppose if your cell has a speaker function, which I think most do, then I guess you could simply put the cell onto speaker phone and everybody in the room can now talk to the caller. So forget that reason. The second reason is if you are in a hurricane and the cell towers are down and those still up are overloaded then you need your land line in order to make a call. What, you aren’t worried about hurricanes in Dallas? Well how about tornadoes or earthquakes or some other natural disaster striking your town. But uhm, that land line phone of yours? If the electricity goes out during your weather malfunction then your cordless won’t work either. So if your power is out and you want to call somebody then you better have an old fashioned cord land line phone. {sigh} Then again, I suppose you could just use your cell phone…

OK OK so ditching the home phone and having only a cell phone makes perfect sense if you want to be rational about it – but irrationally - I still hate people who don’t have home phones! Why? you might ask? How about this scenario: I know that Pete and Donna have left for their Friday night date when I get some news. Now it isn’t earth shattering (no I don’t mean a natural disaster we’re off that subject now) but it is something I want to tell Donna. If Donna still had her home phone I could call her at home and leave a message. But now? I can only call her on her cell phone which might ring at the restaurant where she might even take the call and oh god how embarrassing to interrupt the date just to tell her that my doctor said, well never mind, that isn’t the point. The point is I don’t want to bother Donna on her date but there isn’t any other way of leaving her a message.

Granted, Donna, and every other person in that restaurant should have their cells turned off or at least on vibrate but we all know that people aren’t doing that. Nope, everybody is leaving them on 24-7 to the irritation of everybody else. Hmm. That should mean that at some point people must be irritating themselves, right? So you would think they would eventually get the hint to turn the damn cells off! Besides, what the hell is so important that it can’t wait until you finish your dinner, or the movie, or the meeting or whatever it is you are trying to do before you were so rudely interrupted by your cell phone? I mean, really, God forbid somebody has to wait an hour to hear a reminder about a dentist’s appointment next week!

Oh wait, I just thought of another reason for land lines; I could never spend an hour or more on the phone with my sister if I were using my cell phone. The cell is just way too small and my hand hurts after using it for 15 minutes much less 50! And don’t remind me about that speakerphone function, either! What if I don’t want anyone else in the room to hear my conversation? OK so I live alone but they don’t and I sure as hell don’t want my brother-in-law to hear what my doctor told me!

{sigh, again} I think I might be fighting a losing battle. Between cell phones, twitters, texting and all other manners of instant communication I don’t think anybody ever wants to have to wait to get a message. Sure, for really important stuff it’s great to be able to take a call wherever and whenever. Except that 97% of life is unimportant. And sometimes it’s nice to come home to your house or apartment and to see that message light blinking. To be able to hear a loved one’s voice over and over on the message they left or to have the satisfaction of hitting that delete button for a not so loved one’s message. Yes I know, I know, you can do that with a cell phone. But can you do this? Could you come home from a date (an “I’ll meet you there” sort of thing) only to find the sweetest, nicest, “I miss you already” message waiting for you on your home phone from your date? Now try to beat that with all those rational reasons to get rid of the home phone! I win.

* Dedicated to Mike and Candy, and Bubba, three of those irritating "cell phone only" people. I would call to tell them about this blog except I know they are all out tonight....

Midnight Musings

2009-02-18T11:35:00.007-05:00

So late last night I started to think about something I had seen earlier. That evening I had watched a TV show with a deaf boy who at one point was simply watching the clouds. It was one of those windy days where the clouds were rapidly streaming across the sky and deaf or not it is fun to watch. But then I wondered if deaf people think that clouds make a noise? Do they know that clouds rapidly moving across the sky are silent or do they think they are like the ocean whose waves are thunderous as they crash onto the shore? And why don't the clouds make a noise as they move through the sky?

Facebook Fiasco

2009-02-15T11:17:00.005-05:00

When I was a teen I use to think that as soon as our parents and other adults started to copy a fad that we were doing then it was time to find a new fad. This seems to me what has happened with Facebook. The teens had abandoned My Space as soon as adults started signing up and instead the kids went to Facebook. But now the adults are once again infringing on their territory. Not only are adults joining Facebook but major corporations now have their own Facebook sites. I mean, really, what fifteen year old wants to be a part of something that includes GE along with their parents and teachers?

In fact over the past few weeks I have gotten a handful of requests from my middle aged friends to be their “friend” on Facebook. One person said they have already run into an old friend from college by joining up on Facebook while another said it was a fun thing to do when you’re bored. I have resisted signing up but with some trepidation I have decided to join.

Like so many of these types of social websites their key is in asking questions about your past; wanting to know about your high school, colleges and work experiences. Facebook has then created a massive database from which you can search to find people who you went to school with or who you once worked with at your old jobs. In fact it automatically brings up a list of potential “friends” from your past. The site will also review all the contacts in your email address book and will immediately tell you if there are any matches. In my case I learned that one of my sisters and my brother are both on Facebook already.

How much or how little you add to your profile is up to you. You can add pictures, favorite websites, fill out a questionnaire about your interests, activities, books read and tv and movies watched. I can easily see a 12 year old going crazy answering all these questions and trying to find as many friends as possible who share her/his interests.

Actually, this website is nothing more than middle school or high school but on a grander scale. Just as it was in school, Facebook is a means of determining popularity based on how many “friends” you have. Some people use Facebook with caution by only admitting someone onto their site as a “friend” if they know them in real life whereas others have hundreds of “friends” by letting in anyone who asks to be their friend. No surprise that the latter can lead to a lot of problems as Facebook is also filled with predators of all kinds.

Nonetheless I am now up and running on Facebook. As for the number of friends on my page? Sadly it currently stands at 1.{sigh} I suppose I should give it time for people to find me and vice versa. But now I remember why I hated high school so much!

Button, Button I've Got the Buttons

2009-02-04T09:52:00.007-05:00

Last night the drawer to my nightstand became jammed. A plastic tube of hair stuff had somehow shifted and blocked the drawer from closing. Luckily it wasn’t too hard to pull out the nearly empty tube thereby unjamming the drawer. As I found a new place in the drawer for the tube I noticed something else in there; the button box. For as long as I can remember I have always had my button box; a narrow shoe box in which I store the extra button(s) that come with a shirt or pants or dress.

I am an atrocious sewer and have been known to staple a hem that was falling out. So it may come as a surprise to know that in addition to the buttons, I also keep in my button box spools of black and white thread, a needle and a small pair of sewing scissors; everything I need to sew on a missing button. And here is the truly impressive thing – over the years I have actually sewn on a button or two! I admit it wasn’t done “prettily” and I used way too much thread and my knots, well, even I could tell were awful but once I sewed a button on it wasn’t going to fall off!

Anyway, I took a quick peak into my button box and was surprised to discover that looking at my buttons was like reviewing the fashions of the past decades. I found a couple of glittery buttons which were obviously from a “disco” dress. Oh those were tacky clothes but I just loved how they glittered and reflected the light from the disco ball at the bars and when doing the hustle! Moving to the next decade, I laughed when I read the other day that jumpsuits were now back in style, for unfortunately I no longer have any but I still had their spare buttons!

I also found in my button box handfuls of big cloth covered buttons which I recalled were from all my big shouldered business suits of the 80’s. I even found a couple of bow ties which, like the shoulder pads, were also very fashionable twenty years ago. In contrast, in my button box, next to the big buttons from my “Jackie Collins” era suits were small cloth covered buttons. These delicate buttons came with my many beautiful silk suits I bought in the 1990’s when my salary allowed me the pleasure of owning these wonderful, yet expensive suits. I found buttons that went with my rainbow collection of silk suits including royal blue, jade green, ivory, peach, light blue, white gry etc. etc. Most of all there were dozens (or so it seemed) of white or clear buttons from what use to be a the closet full (literally) of plain white shirts to wear with all the business suits.

If you didn’t know it before, you could easily tell I worked in conservative businesses such as banks. And this might sound out of place but I also had to dress very conservatively – when I worked for Caesars Palace casino! Yes the place was filled with employees dressed in revealing costumes but as an executive I was required to dress professionally, even when I came in on weekends or stayed back of the house and never saw any players. But I basically didn’t mind dressing up in my suits. At one point I had enough business suits so that I could wear a different one every day for nearly three weeks! And most required a plain white blouse and I know I had at least half a dozen of them at any one time.

Anyway, back to my button box. Growing up, I remember my mom kept buttons in this old funny shaped tin with some kind of picture on it. But when I first started to work I simply put a shoe box in my nightstand drawer. Over the years I have added to it whenever I bought something that came with an extra button. And there it has sat, year after year, decade after decade.

99%. Yup, that’s about right. I would guess that about 99% of the clothes that went with those buttons are long gone. Just in the past few weeks I gave away the last of my beautiful silk suits. I hated to do so but they were at least 10 years old, looked tired and limp, and over the years they seemed to have shrunk in size (yeah right, blame it on the clothes shrinking!) And yet, even though the clothes are long gone, I still have all the spare buttons.

So what exactly are you supposed to do with never used buttons when their matching clothes are gone? And am I certain that this button belonged to an old shirt and not the newer one in my closet? Besides, I just know that the minute I throw out a button soon afterwards there will be a clothing crisis in which the button I just threw out is needed. It is always like that, right? You hang on to something for years (or decades in my case) and the minute after you toss it out you will need it!

Seriously, is there a place for unwanted buttons? (Why do I keep picturing the island for unwanted toys but instead of dolls and jack in the boxes, the beaches are filled with unwanted buttons!) Or is there something clever I should be doing with them? Oh well, I'll just leave the buttons in my button box where they've been for the past 25 years. Who knows? Maybe some day I might actually have to sew on another button and I will know that the button will be somewhere in my button box.

Mail-less Saturdays?

2009-01-29T08:46:00.013-05:00

In my last post on cursive writing I mentioned things associated with writing that have become obsolete. I had to laugh when I saw that I missed the most obvious thing to be impacted by the decline of letter writing - the Post Office!

Apparently my blog was more relevant than I realized as I saw on the news that the Post Office is considering discontinuing Saturday service. Duh. I should have thought of that! Not only are people emailing letters rather than snail mailing them, but I assume that I am not the only one converting to email statements and bills and discontinuing receiving any paper statements in the mail. Plus there are a lot of private companies who provide faster and more reliable deliveries.

Besides, up through the 1950's many cities had twice a day delivery but who remembers, much less still complains about not getting that any more? Will people really miss Saturday mail? OK I should probably tell you that I am not exactly the right person to talk about this since my mailing "habits" are, uhm, unusual. My mail is delivered to one of those group boxes things that are more and more common today. Although I drive right past it on my way in and out of the community I forget to pick up my mail. Seriously. I will go a week, 10 days, 2 weeks before I remember to stop and get my mail. My mother thinks I am nuts as getting her mail is a daily ritual for her. However, the first thing I do every morning is to check my email...

Anyway, my mailbox phobia started when I worked at Caesars Palace in Vegas and ran the direct mail division. I always included myself on my mailing lists so I would know when pieces were delivered. Yet I hated opening my mail box and seeing one of my promotional letters or special event invitations. My greatest fear would be to read what was sent to our customers and to now find a typo that I missed even though I had proofed it backwards and forwards before it went to print. So on the theory of if you don't see it then it didn't happen, I would simply avoid getting my mail for as long as possible! Since then it has become such a habit that now I honestly forget to pick it up. Occasionally this presents problems.

Last night I got a call from my insurance agent reminding me that my car insurance needs to be renewed next month and asked if I had looked at the package they had mailed me. Oops. I guess I need to stop and get my mail on the way back from the gym today. I can't even tell you when I got it last, but I would guess it's been at least 10 days. And once my mailbox became so full that the mailman returned it all back to the Post Office!

So obviously, I could care less if the Post Office stopped Saturday delivers. Although the way some people are reacting you would think that the Post Office would be destroying all Saturday mail rather than simply delivering it on Monday instead! If you were in that much of a hurry to get your mail have it FedExed instead!

Just as the Pony Express is ancient history I wonder if the Post Office will one day become a thing of the past. For "Neither rain nor snow nor sleet may keep the postman from his appointed rounds" but a paperless society and emails just might stop them in their tracks.

Write Away

2009-01-27T10:51:00.010-05:00

I have been hiding a shameful secret for decades that I was too embarrassed to admit to anyone. I am bringing it up now because I recently heard on the news that it will no longer matter if schools decide to stop teaching it altogether. What am I talking about? Well, the truth is I have nearly forgotten how to do cursive writing. But I must not be alone in this if elementary schools are thinking of abandoning teaching it to future second graders.

When I do write, my writing is more of a cross between printing and cursive with the emphasis on printing. Probably the most writing I ever did was at work where I kept a fat spiral bound notebook by my side at all times to record notes from meetings, things for me to do, things for my team to do and anything else that needed to be written down so I wouldn’t forget. (Although I depended on my PC to do all my work, I never did get into carrying Blackberries or lugging a laptop with me to meetings, preferring these old fashioned notebooks.) Although cursive writing is supposed to be faster, I got pretty quick with my own brand of half printing half cursive and it worked for me.

Even though I rarely use cursive writing, my initial reaction is of course kids need to know how to write cursively. But then I wondered why do they have to spend hours and hours of valuable class time learning to write cursively rather than simply printing when almost all of their writing will eventually be done on a computer? Wouldn’t those hours be better spent learning math or science or reading? Before you start to argue with me, think about it. I can actually envision a time in the not too distant future when cursive writing could soon be a lost art or a hobby just as calligraphy is today. (I wonder if there was a similar argument century’s earlier about teaching cursive writing instead of calligraphy.)

Actually the lack of writing has already made a number of products nearly obsolete. Remember when we were all so excited when the very first erasers for pens were invented? Although they never really worked all that well and could rub through the whole page. This was what, maybe 25 years ago and already it is obsolete for it is so much easier to write and erase things on a PC. And does anyone ever give a good pen set for graduation anymore? I still have a drawer full of Cross pens and pencils. At one point in my life I thought that using them at work were symbols that I was going somewhere. Seriously.

Stationary was also a great gift if you couldn’t think of anything else. Does anyone else recall having bright colored funky stationary when they were young? And then feeling so grown up the first time you used fancy engraved stationary? But who uses it now other than your mother or grandmother? Dare I even admit that for thank you notes I still sometimes use the engraved cards my Mom made me buy when I also purchased the announcement cards when I graduated from high school! So I was extremely impressed when my nephew’s new bride sent out a handwritten thank you note a few weeks ago for their Christmas present. Wow. (I haven’t met her yet but I already like my new niece in law!) I would have been impressed with an emailed thank you as thanking people is also becoming a lost art.

In a way it is a shame. I know that kids today are twittering and texting but there is something so concrete about holding that handwritten note in your hand and being able to keep it in your scrapbook. Years ago, before computers, I was also a prolific letter writing (and yes in my strange printing/cursive writing). I can’t tell you how many hours I spent happily composing and writing and rewriting love letters to the man of the hour. Facing a blank piece of paper with pen in hand always filled me with an excitement that no blank Word page can ever replace. And how can the young ladies today perfume their love letters when written on the computer? (OK that brings to mind that huge trend in the 80’s of scratch ‘n sniff. I haven’t thought of that in years. A quick check, on-line, of course, informs me that old scratch ‘n sniff stickers are being traded on Ebay for large amounts of money!)

Anyway, as much as I live and breathe with my laptop which is now constantly by my side I admit to nostalgia for the days of pen and paper. But I can’t quite find the same wistfulness at the thought of cursive writing disappearing.

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall

2009-01-22T15:00:00.003-05:00

Did you see on TV all those women standing in line at major department stores? Apparently the stores are giving out $175 million worth of free makeup in response to some class action suit. Ha. At the prices of department store cosmetics that’s about two tubes of lipstick and a foundation!

Do you remember the first time you bought “good” department store makeup? It is like some kind of female rite of passage to go from drug store makeup to department store cosmetics. (When you pay that much it’s called cosmetics not makeup!) Sure you might have sat in those makeup counter chairs for the free demonstration but nobody actually bought the stuff. Who could afford it?

I waited until my first job after college and then decided I was “grown up” and needed more than the “cheap” drugstore makeup. It was time to graduate to the upscale cosmetics. The first big decision was in choosing the right brand. I settled on Clinique for no particular reason other than I liked their packaging with the blue colors and shiny mirrors. I also liked the look of their clerks who seemed more professional and knowledgeable in their white coats versus many of the women at the other stations.

I told them that I really did plan to buy makeup and gave the young lady free rein to create “a face” for me. That was my first mistake although I did feel very pampered and indulged as they applied layer after layer of makeup. But I never knew I needed so much stuff! First I learned I had a “mixed” complexion of both oily and dry areas so I needed a special moisturizer. As a redhead I next needed a good foundation to give my pale face some color but without looking orange. Next came blush and after a few false starts she found two which I needed to blend together to give the illusion of cheekbones.

The Clinique clerk spent a lot of time on my eyes. She started off with the eye concealer for under my eyes followed by an anti aging eye cream to hide the crows feet at the sides of my eyes. My pale blond eyebrows needed a pencil to draw in natural looking eyebrows. Three shades of eye shadow, two eyeliners and four coats of mascara later and my eyes were finally completed. She tried a couple of shades of lipstick before settling on a coral shade with matching lip liner, of course. Topped it all off with a powder which was supposed to settle the makeup and keep it in tact. Whew. I did look good but my bottom was getting tired from sitting on that uncomfortable stool so I was glad we were done. Wrong.

For it turned out that was only the first step. I then needed a whole slew of products to remove everything at the end of the night. I also had to have a handful of bottles and lotions to apply before I go to bed to keep my face young, wrinkle free and moisturized. And I needed special brushes to apply all this stuff. Now she really was done and there was a mountain of bottles, tubes, brushes, applicators and containers of all the stuff needed to make me look nice.

I must admit that she had worked magic on me. So of course I needed all of it – until I saw the final tally. Oh my. Talk about sticker shock. To buy all of these wonderful products used to make me look good would cost me over $500! {gulp} But hey, I needed this stuff, right? Well I did manage to eliminate a few of these products but I still spent close to $300 at the Clinique counter. Of course I never did manage to duplicate all the work she had done on my face. And over the next few weeks I tried to remember to use the moisturizer and all the other “clean up “stuff before I went to bed but these bottles soon found their way to the back of my bathroom cabinets.

I also discovered that within a few days when applying makeup I would reach for my old drugstore eye shadows and liners instead of the expensive stuff; partly because I liked the old stuff and partly because I wanted to save the new expensive Clinique stuff for special occasions. I must not have many special occasions for that was twenty-five years ago and I still have the original blush and a few other products! Did you know that you are supposed to throw out your makeup after a few months? Yeah right. As I said, I have some cosmetics that are old enough to vote, hell a few are almost old enough to be president!

Over time I eventually went back to the inexpensive drugstore makeup because if I were honest, I really don’t see any difference between the expensive and cheap products. So my wallet wins and I am back to the drugstore brands. But I must admit, it is still fun to occasionally stop by the department store cosmetic counters where they are really selling more than cosmetics. They are selling a dream, a fantasy where they pamper us and flatter us with their lotions, foundations, blushes and lipsticks while we pretend that we can be beautiful if only we would use these cosmetics….

UnMoving Day - Part 2

2009-01-13T08:19:00.011-05:00

I am finding out there is even more work required when permanently staying in a house than simply tossing out empty moving boxes. You see, I did something last week that I have never done before in my life. Last month, while lunching with a friend, she mentioned she had spent the previous day cleaning out her refrigerator. Huh. What a novel idea. I really had never thought of this before. For the past 25 years, after I moved out of a home, I always hired a cleaning crew to clean everything and then I would move into a new house with a new or at least clean refrigerator. I would repeat this every 2-3 years and so it truly never occurred to me that I needed to now do things like cleaning out a refrigerator.

After learning that cleaning a fridge is something one should actually do on a regular basis I decided that now is a good time since mine was quite empty. OK, I should admit that it is not unusual for my refrigerator to look like Mother Hubbard’s but it was empty even by my standards. In fact, other than the condiment stuff sitting on the door shelves, the only things on the main shelves were a half filled 12 pack box of coke, a gallon of milk, a plate with a quarter stick of butter, a bottle of pickles, a plastic lemon in the far back corner and some little cartons of applesauce. That was it. And I had to toss out both the pickles which expired two weeks ago and the plastic lemon which had an expiration date of June 06. Yuck. Oh yes, there was also an unopened bottle of wine I’ve had since 1992 and taken with me in each move waiting for some special occasion to open it.

Anyway, I decided that before I filled the fridge up with some food, I should probably clean it first. Even though it hadn’t been cleaned since I bought it 7 years ago it still wasn’t all that dirty. When most of my “food” comes in cardboard or plastic cartons and coke cans then there is little spillage. Nonetheless after wiping down the inside even I could tell the difference. It actually gleamed and looked almost brand new or at least it looked like it was in moving day condition which is even better!

Now that I have started this cleanup I am looking around the house with new eyes to see what other uncharted territory I need to wade into. Speaking of wading, I recall that there is something more I’m supposed to do to with my carpets. And yet, my carpets, which were installed when I bought the house 7 years ago, are still in great condition. There are no kids, or pets or even husband to tear up the carpets so they still look brand new. Besides, even though I don’t own a vacuum cleaner, my housekeeper vacuums the carpets when she is here every other week. What more is needed, right?

But there is one project that scares me even more than the prospect of cleaning my carpets. As I wiped down my refrigerator I couldn’t help but look at that other ominous kitchen appliance – the stove. There are all these latches and buttons and indicator lights that supposedly allow the stove to magically clean itself but I am totally clueless as to how it works. I also have this fear of accidentally blowing up my stove (don’t ask how but years ago my stove really did exploded and I had to call the fire department!). So my fears are understandable and ever since then I try to stay as far away from the stove as I can. Actually, considering how rarely I use it then it is still in nearly move in condition. And that’s good enough for me! Whew. If the housing market wasn’t so bad I just might think about moving again – it sure is less work than what is required when you stay in the same place for more than a few years!

Midnight Musings

2009-01-11T23:27:00.004-05:00

I am sure you have had nights where sleep eludes you while strange thoughts go through your head or you replay something that happened or worry about something that might happen. So every now and then I'll publish these Midnight Musings. Tonight, it is a conversation I had a few days ago which came to mind after hearing in the news that Tim Tebow, the amazing Univ. of Fl quarterback will return for his senior year. I had said that after being part of a winning BCS National Championship team his freshman year, winning the Heisman Trophy his sophmore year and now leading his team to a second BCS championship his junior year - what more did this remarkable young man have to prove? Why not just go pro next year? Unfortunately I made this remark to my mother who dryly informed me that some people actually go to college to get a degree and graduate. Oh yeah, I suppose there is that....

UnMoving Day - Part 1

2009-01-09T12:20:00.014-05:00

I never knew that there was so much upkeep you should do for a house even though this is the fourth home that I’ve owned. Actually that is the problem (or perhaps the solution). You see, throughout most of my life I was a serial homeowner. From the early 80’s until 2001, as I moved around the country due to my career, I rarely lived in the same place for more than 3 years. This has now changed and I’ve lived in my current home for a remarkable seven years. As moving is not in the cards for the time being, I am discovering that staying in the same place requires almost as much work as if I was moving!

What has brought about this discovery? I started to get the hint when I could no longer open the closet in the spare bedroom without empty boxes tumbling out around me. In the past, when I moved every few years, I would have to empty my closets, throw away the junk and use all the saved boxes to pack up the rest of the stuff. Now I’ve discovered that if you stay in the same place for 7 years these closets get filled up! So before the holidays I finally had to bite the bullet and clean out that closet. (I should admit that a friend actually did all the lifting and heavy work while I directed him.) It was almost painful to throw out all the empty boxes that I had saved for the next move for that meant that my wanderlust days have been curtailed for now.

I hadn’t realized just how attached I am to empty boxes until I started this cleaning frenzy before the holidays. After cleaning the closet I next realized that I had to do something about my garage. Apparently you need to periodically clean that out, too. Who knew? I had to hire help to clean this and even though that was a month ago I am still in awe every time I go to my car for my garage is now in move in condition. Plus in addition to sweeping out the ankle deep dirt and leaves collected in the corners of the garage, my helpers also threw out the large empty boxes I had saved since my last move. These boxes had become soggy and torn and useless years ago but again I just couldn’t bear to throw them out in case I had another sudden urge to move. But out they went to the dumpster. After cleaning these two rooms I thought I was finally free from my emotional attachment to empty boxes.

Not quite. I have a third very small spare bedroom which I rarely go into. But during the holidays, as we wandered into this room looking for spare hangers Mom commented on a very large object in the corner of the room. As it’s been there since moving day I no longer really see it anymore. But the object in question is one of those huge carton wardrobe boxes used in moving. How embarrassing! My excuse was that those boxes are hard to come by when you’re moving and equally hard to break down and toss out when you’re moved in and so I simply kept it in the corner of the room for the past seven years. Oops.

Can you keep a secret? Not only is that big wardrobe carton still there, but I've already started to refill my spare closet with all the empty boxes from Christmas! What can I say? I might not be moving today but I still better hold on to some empty boxes just in case....

The Name Game

2009-01-07T07:39:00.004-05:00

My sisters have gone nuts and are reverting to childhood. In writing this blog I realized I couldn’t continue with Sibling 1, Sibling 2 etc. But I am of the firm belief that unless you are already famous you should never use your real name on the internet. There are just too many horror stories out there. Besides there is something fun in taking on a new persona. I took my nom de plume, Lorena Mae, from my Great Aunt Lorena and my Great Auntie Mae, two wonderful old ladies who I admired greatly. But what names should I use for my two sisters and brother?

Not too long ago I made the mistake of emailing my siblings and asking them what names would they like me to call them? A very loaded question to be sure… But I explained why I was asking this and knew they would quickly email me back for we all have developed the same habit of sitting in front of the TV in the evening while simultaneously being on our respective laptops.

Sure enough, my middle sister soon emails me back and replies to my question by suggesting “Why don’t we go with a Little Women theme?” She then adds that she can be Jo and our older sister can be Meg. Wow. Somehow I feel the years slide back to when we would play dress up and spend hours planning to put on a show for our parents. On the other hand I couldn’t help feel a little bit miffed at her suggestion.

I emailed back whining “how come this is my blog but she wants to be the heroine of Little Women and the one who was the writer”? However, instead of threatening to tell Mom I remembered my age and then added sure, if she wants to be Jo, she can be Jo. But I wrote that I draw the line at calling our mother “Marmee” the sickeningly sweet name used in the book. Just as I hit the send button I get an email from our older sister who agrees to be Meg, the oldest sister in Little Women. Even our mother has gotten into this. After telling her about the emails she immediately states that she “wants to be called Louisa since Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women and Mom ‘created’ all of us!”

All settled, right? Not quite. The next evening I get another email from “Jo”. In this new email she tells me that her husband’s fake name can be Frederick and her son can be Lawrence, two other characters in Little Women. Oh boy. I think she is going a bit over the top with the whole thing and I agree when she stated that she is having way too much fun with this. No word back that night from our other sister for she was out celebrating her 52nd birthday for the fourth year in a row. Yes you read that correctly.

So now do you see why I started off by saying my sisters are nuts? Hmmm. Now there is an idea. Maybe instead of Meg and Jo I should call them Harpo and Chico! Nah, they’d probably just tell Mom on me. OK, Meg and Jo it will be but if my big sisters create any more problems then I won’t let them be in my blog any more! So there!

~
Oh and in case you are wondering, I never did hear back from our brother. Typical. So I simply came up with Candy for his wife as she is such a sweetie to put up with his family! My brother then complained about that saying it sounds like he’s married to a stripper! I offered to change it but “Candy” spoke up and said that she liked the name. Not sure if she liked it because it was sweet or because her husband thought it sounded like a stripper’s name but I don’t think I will ask…

Party Talk

2009-01-05T10:45:00.004-05:00

Saturday night my brother gave a lovely party for his wife’s 40th birthday party. He even had it catered with heavy appetizers complete with a server who stayed and cleaned up afterwards plus a bartender for the bar on his porch. (Did I mention we live in Florida where outdoor bars are possible in January?) And then there was the karaoke machine which got heavy use as the liquor flowed and the party really took off. Who knew that partying school teachers could be that, uhm, loud?

In addition to the school teachers from my sister-in-law’s school there was also a contingency of neighbors plus my brother’s “gang” and their wives. (Although not sure if “gang” can apply to a group of golfing middle aged men, some who have been friends from as far back as grade school.) As for family, I am the only one who lives nearby, as one sister is in Boston, and our Mom and another sister is in Texas. Anyway, as I was leaving the party I stopped to say goodbye to my brother. I hadn’t talked to him for an hour or two so it was the first chance we had to speak since the party got into high gear.

I was a little taken aback when the first thing he said to me was “Well, I suppose I’ll be reading about this in Lorena Mae?”

Huh. Until he asked that, it hadn’t occurred to me to tell all in my blog. But once he had mentioned it then the possibilities for extortion danced through my mind. So after getting over the initial shock that he read my blog I then realized what they mean by the power of the press …except I forgot about the power of the family.

The next morning one of my sisters called and since not much else had happened recently I told her a bit about the party. I should have been prepared yet I was still surprised when a few hours later Mom calls me and her opening words were “I talked to your sister who said you went to the party so tell me all about it.” {sigh} What is the point in having a blog with blackmail potential when everybody calls you first?

Besides even though it has been years since any of us were teenagers I still couldn’t shake that code of not telling tales about a sibling. They may now be in their 40s and 50s but some things just don’t change. So Mike and Candy you’re secrets are still safe with me even though it’s killing me not to share a few of the highlights. But instead of telling tales on you I’ll talk about other people!

For a while I spent a very amusing time watching the karaoking teachers, where side bets were being placed for how quickly we good could figure out exactly what song they were supposed to be singing. (Except for Aretha’s Respect we were stumped most of the time!) Anyway, a good looking man was standing next to me watching the spectacle. I asked if he was the husband of one of the caterwauling teachers and he quickly said no, he was a neighbor and his son was a friend of my 10 year old niece. I immediately replied “oh, you must be Bobby’s dad”.

That’s right. My 10 year old niece has a boyfriend. In fact not only does she have a boyfriend but they have had crushes on each other since the second grade. How depressing is that? This neighborhood boy has been in a three year relationship with her – that’s longer than what most adult single men can commit to! And it sure is different than when I was in elementary school where I would have been mortified if a boy liked me. Instead, Bobby’s dad said that when my niece came to one of Bobby’s soccer games, before he had a chance to introduce her to Bobby’s friends they all immediately said “You must be Bobby’s girlfriend.” Wow. He said he was embarrassed but it was no big deal to these kids. No surprise that they are now emailing each other, under the strict supervision of their parents, and have already breezed through the “Do you like me? I like you” phase. In fact, in one of the most recent emails Bobby asked my niece if she wanted to “hook up”? Great. If this is what it’s like in 5th grade I can only imagine what it will be like when they’re in 10th grade! But if Bobby looks anything like his dad then my niece has good taste. And of course I already know that Bobby has great taste by having a crush on my niece!

As this was a 40th birthday party there were lots of bad jokes about getting old. But nothing tops what happened at the last party they had a few years ago. In that party I ended up talking to a neighbor’s college age daughter and her boyfriend. In the course of the conversation we discovered we all had gone to the same high school. The young man added that his dad went there, too, years and years ago. Great. As I was in the second class to graduate from that school then in spite of the kid’s “years and years ago” his dad was probably younger than me! Wrong. It turns out his father was not only in my class but we had dated in high school! Do you have any idea how old you feel when you discover you are partying with the 21 year old son of an old high school flame? Ouch! So the party this Saturday was therefore pretty successful as I didn’t run into any more adult children of old boyfriends!

Actually by any standards this party was a success. My little brother did good and Candy’s pain of turning 40 should be somewhat assuaged by this wonderful party. Oh that reminds me of another story but as I said, my lips are sealed. Sorry family but I’ll be a good big sister and will go by the Vegas rule; What happened at the party stays at the party!

I Know I Know Who That Actor Is – So Who Is He?

2009-01-02T09:10:00.006-05:00

I was watching a movie the other night on TV when I saw a character in it that looked familiar but I couldn’t remember where I had seen her before. Don’t you just hate that? I suppose you’ll understand my confusion better if you knew what I was watching, except, this is so embarrassing. Please understand that there was nothing on TV and it simply came on after what I had been previously watching. So that’s my excuse for the fact that I was actually watching Dodgeball: A True Story. Although I suppose it is even worse to admit that I watched the whole thing and even thought it had its funny moments….

Anyway, there was this cute young high school cheerleader in the movie. I knew that I knew her but darned if I knew from where. The fact that she had her hair in a pony tail and was wearing a cheerleader uniform most of the time probably made it difficult to figure out where I had seen her before. But thank God for one of my most favorite websites on the whole internet.

http://www.imdb.com/ – The International Movie Database. If you aren’t familiar with this website you should immediately make it one of your Favorites. In the old days we would see a familiar face in a movie and spend the rest of the evening trying to remember just who the hell he is. And how many times have you then woken in the middle of the night thinking “that is where I saw him before”! No more. Now I can go to this website and type in the movie. And if I see a character on Law and Order who looks familiar, I use the Guide or Info button on my remote which will let me know the Episode name of the show and I type that in. A few seconds later, there it is; a brief synopsis of the movie or episode of the TV show followed by a listing of every character in it and who played them, complete with pictures. OK, I sound like some commercial but it really is a terrific website.

Anyway, after typing in Dodgeball, the website brought up the movie. Browsing through the list of characters I found the cheerleader but did not recognize the actress’s name; Julie Gonzalo. And here is the magic of IMDB. I clicked on her real name and it took me to another page dedicated to this actress. This page included recent pictures, a brief bio and even their filmography.

The minute I saw Julie Gonzalo’s current picture it clicked – she plays the cute young lawyer, Maggie, on Eli Stone. If it wasn’t for this website, I seriously doubt if I would have ever figured that one out. Julie also turned out to have an interesting bio. She was born in Argentina and is only 27 yet has a very impressive resume and a long filmography. Before Eli Stone she had an on-going role in Veronica Mars, which I never saw, but it was supposed to be good. Overall she has been steadily acting since 2001 including producing two short films. I also looked up the guy who plays Eli Stone. He's a British actor with years of work. Wow. Did you know he was married to Angelina Jolie for 4 years? Oops, too much info, right? Sorry, but it’s hard not to get carried away with the site!

Unfortunately Julie et al will soon be out of work. While looking at her page, I read that ABC has canceled Eli Stone. Drat. I really like that show. Now considering I started off by saying I actually watched and enjoyed Dodgeball I can understand why my opinion might be questionable. But it really was an interesting show with characters you enjoyed (Eli Stone, not Dodgeball). Yes it was quirky with occasional singing but it also made you think and the end of each show gave you hope. But I guess people didn’t want that as the show is being cancelled due to low ratings.

Sorry. I have got way off the topic, not that there was much of a topic to this. I just wanted to share with everyone my secret weapon to figuring out the answer to that irritating question “just who the hell is that actor?” So the next time your watching TV and the name of that actor is right on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t get it out, well, stop your suffering. Go to this wonderful website, www.IMDB.com, and it will immediately end your frustrations. But I should warn you…. You might start by going to this site, looking up your show, finding the actor and then maybe click on that other show the actor was in and on and on until you become so absorbed in the website that you completely forget about the show you were supposed to be watching! So you may end up knowing who that actor was but miss the scene where they announced who the killer was! Oh well, you can always hit that reverse button on your Tvo! My, on my, how did we ever manage to exist without all these cool websites and technology?

Happy New Year!

2008-12-30T02:21:00.007-05:00

For those of you who know me, after reading the past couple of columns you might be wondering if you misjudged me, if maybe deep down inside I am a sweet, kind, devout person. Nah. In fact, I am sure my sisters are wondering who has kidnapped me and where have they taken the real me? Hey, what can I say? It has been that time of year. And if Scrooge and even the Grinch can have a change of heart than even yours truly can play nice for a few days. But thankfully that season is about over and we will soon turn the calendar to a New Year. Whew! Good thing for I am not sure if I am capable of being this nice for more than a few days at a time.

Although, this really is supposed to be my nicer column. If you want mean and grumpy then you want my political column – PC Fugitive. It is exactly one year ago today that I first started to write my somewhat politically incorrect blog. And if you thought I was a bit sarcastic and grouchy when Bush was in office, you can only imagine what the next year will bring once a Democrat is President! Oh the fun it will be! I have a feeling the PC patrol will really be after me in the coming year and I promise that I will do my best to earn their wrath!

So in comparison, yes, I am nice in this blog, but don’t worry. I have no intention of setting off diabetic attacks like I have been doing lately. I only promise to be a bit nicer than in PC Fugitive, which probably isn’t saying much.

I am really looking forward to the next year although God only knows what I will write about every week. I just know that considering my life and yes, yours, there is a lot of material to cover! So, thanks for stopping by and I do hope you make coming here a habit next year.

Happy New Year!

Making Christmas Memories

2008-12-26T11:30:00.000-05:00

Some Christmas’s are memorable while others just come and go, barely making an impact on your life. Maybe my family might soon forget this Christmas but somehow I don’t think so. I think that we had a very special day. And yet, if you ask me what made yesterday so memorable I am not sure if I could point to just one thing but rather it was the combination of so many things...

First, there were my 7 and 10 year old nieces who still believe in Santa or at least refuse to not believe in him quite yet. So this meant all the traditional steps had to be taken including setting out for him their homemade, extremely “decorated” cookies before going to bed and even tossing out some food in the backyard for the reindeers, too. Then we had to wait for the girls to finally fall asleep before hauling out all the presents from the many hiding places. (It also meant that my sister-in-law, Candy, had to remember to wrap “Santa’s” presents in different paper from the other presents, as this faux pas was how she discovered the “truth” when she was a child.) I then left their house around 10:30pm on Christmas Eve with strict instructions to be back no later than 7am the next morning.

Having children in the house who still believe in Santa does make it a special Christmas for soon they will outgrow all of this. Then again, even at my age, I was as excited as any child and woke up Christmas morning well before the alarm was to go off. I got to my brothers neighborhood nearly 20 minutes early so I drove around killing time. Perhaps I ought to have spent more time at my quiet calm home because the minute I walked into their house I was surrounded by two squealing little girls. I don’t think there was a moment of silence the rest of the day as somebody was always talking, laughing or yelling (but in a good way).

Another reason this was a memorable Christmas was that we had four generations together. My nieces’ Great-Grandmother was there (Candy’s grandmother), both of their grandmothers (Candy’s Mom and her mother-in-law, my Mom), their grandfather (Candy’s Dad), their Aunt (me), their parents, the two little girls and their two cats! Whew! Lots of pictures were taken to capture all the generations sharing Christmas together. Candy’s grandmother is in her late 80s and my 80 year old Mom has already said she plans to spend next Christmas with one of my sisters, so not knowing when or if we will share this day together again certainly made it a very special Christmas.

Perhaps the only time we were all quiet was when we were eating, and it seemed as if we did that quite frequently. Of course we started off with the much anticipated cinnamon rolls around 8am. This was followed a few hours later with a delicious creamy sausage over biscuits. We barely had time to digest that when out came shrimp and other appetizers about mid afternoon. It ended with the mouth watering prime rib, my niece’s requested baked potato casserole which I can easily see becoming a new tradition, plus of course the proverbial green bean casserole. Apple and chocolate pies topped off this delicious meal. No one could move afterwards!

As wonderful as all of the above was, perhaps the most outstanding part of the day was the never ending laughter. And most of the laughter was due to a silly game. Last year the girls received Wii for Christmas and this year there were some new games for it under the Christmas tree. Many of the games require some physical exertion which would be too much for their older relatives, including myself. But they also received a Mario racing game where you simply turned a “steering wheel” as you “drove” through various tracks and courses. Easy, right? Ha!

I can’t remember when I have laughed so hard or for such a long time without stopping. Later in the evening both my brother and my sister-in-law stunned us with their expertise but prior to that the rest of us were simply awful. I’m sure it won’t sound nearly as funny if I tried to describe it but trust me, it was hysterical. And it wasn’t just that we were horrible at the game and constantly driving into walls or over cliffs but each person’s “technique” was a new source of laughter. My 10 year old niece drove with her whole body turning left and right while her grandmother continuously yelled “Whoa” to her car and her other grandmother turned it into bumper cars as she constantly banged into the walls. I was just as bad as the next person although I did try to limit how much I moved when driving. But I think my body aches today more from the never ending laughing then from playing that game.

So, yes, I think this might be one of those memorable Christmas’s. It didn’t matter that money is tight or that our loved ones are aging or suffering from various physical problems. For one day we celebrated Christ’s birth and His message of love and hope. We put aside petty differences, political divisions and even the little girls played happily together (or at least until sheer exhaustion started to set in around bed time). Yesterday was as memorable as a Christmas Day should be. And we needed that. For bad times are coming and in the days ahead we will now be able to look back and remember and draw comfort and strength from the love and laughter that we shared as a family on Christmas Day.

Christmas Visit with Mom

2008-12-21T14:54:00.000-05:00

I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Never announce to the world in your new blog that your mother is an “octogenarian” the same week she is visiting you. Mom was not happy that I called her that and as she is here for Christmas she could tell me in person exactly what she thought. Oops. I only made it worse when I tried to explain that I had originally written it as my “ageing mother” but thought she wouldn’t like that nor would she be pleased if I had said “elderly” or even “senior”. Besides, I sort of thought that after a certain age it was a matter of pride to be in your 80’s. Not exactly.

Admittedly my mother is not your typical 80 year old grandmother. Yes she is a “church lady”, active in her church and can be found sitting in her pew every Sunday morning. But Sunday afternoons? She is glued to the TV watching the football games and checking to see how she is doing in the family football pool. And you wouldn’t believe where she can be found every Tuesday night. My little old mother has now become part of a weekly poker group at her complex! And she is good, too. (My father would be so proud of her as he taught her everything he knew.)

Plus I must admit that as I listen to my friends talk about their parents I realize how lucky I am. My best friend tells horror stories about her Mom. She once had to fly across the country just to take her mother for a colonoscopy! If that wasn’t bad enough, the night before the procedure her mother insisted that her daughter stand outside the bathroom door to keep her company when the purging stuff kicked in. Oh yuck. Another friend’s mother calls her every single day to complain. Then there was a friend who had to spend each weekend with her mother driving her around as her mother refused to drive any more. So I know I am lucky.

I mentioned to my Mom that I was writing this blog . Her immediate response was that she wanted to read it before I put it on the internet. That triggered old memories of having my mother check my homework at night and so I automatically said sure she can read it. But you know what? I’ve changed my mind. Mom will just have to wait like everyone else and read the posting on the internet. Sad, isn’t it? I’m middle ages and yet I still feel the need to occasionally rebel against my parent! But now I hear her yelling at some football announcer so I should go and rejoin her. Besides, I want to see what the scores are as she’s not the only one with some money riding on the games. OK I must admit there are few octogenarian mothers who during their Christmas visit with their middle aged daughter spend their time together watching football! Yeah, I know. {sigh} like mother, like daughter….

Christmas Cooking

2008-12-16T11:37:00.000-05:00

I just saw an ad about making Green Bean Casserole for Christmas. I think they bring out this same ad every year at this time. The first year I saw it I realized that my family wasn't the only one who ate this side dish every Christmas. The funny thing is, as much as we love Green Bean Casserole, we only seem to have it on Christmas Day and sometimes on Thanksgiving. That's it. And I guess we aren't the only ones as this ad is only shown at this time of year. So why is that?

There are a number of other delicious meals that for some reason we only eat once a year. Take eggnog for example. Why is it served only at Christmas time? Why not on Valentine's Day, too? Personally I am not very fond of cranberry but I know other people like it yet again we only seem to have it with Christmas dinner. Why can't we have Mom's wonderful home made potato salad for lunch on Christmas Day instead of only eating it on the Fourth of July and Labor Day? I'm sure a lot of you have your own traditional meal which is only made once a year.

A Christmas Day staple growing up in my house were those delicious cinnamon bun you bake in a round pan then top off with this thick surgery icing. Mmmmm. Nothing can beat one of those warm soft rolls with sticky icing dripping down the sides. Even the kids will agree to a break in opening packages so that we can ice them and then serve everyone a warm roll. And it doesn't matter if I am at my brother's house or visiting either sister, they all serve this same thing on Christmas morning. The funny thing is I don't even like breakfast and yet once a year I look forward to these buns as much as the next person.

Many years ago, when I was living up north, Mike and Candy (who was just his girl friend at that time) drove up from Florida to visit me. This was the first time my brother had ever stayed at my house and I wanted it to be nice. So I came up with the idea of making our Christmas cinnamon buns for breakfast one morning. Long story short, they burned to a crisp. I was devastated. Here I was trying to be a nice big sister and I ruined our cinnamon rolls turning them into blackened lumps seared to the pan. I gave up. I never again tried to bake them and now just enjoy them Christmas Day when my sister-in-law makes them for all of us.

Unfortunately my disastrous attempt has itself become part of Christmas Day traditions. Now every year when Candy serves her perfectly baked buns my brother will retell how I burned them beyond recognition. And if he forgets to tell the story then my young nieces who have now heard it so often will remind everyone about I how ruined them! {sigh}

Maybe the moral of this story is that you should stick with making your traditional meals and dishes during the holidays and not at any other time of the year. (Although I can hear my family laughing at me and arguing that the real moral to this story is that I should never go into a kitchen at any time of the year!)

Last Minute Christmas Gifts

2008-12-14T08:52:00.000-05:00

I love those handless headsets you can use in a car to talk to people while driving. If you still need to buy a Christmas gift for somebody you need to run right out and get them one. Sure, they can save lives by allowing drivers to use both hands while driving but that is beside the point. There is a much greater advantage that no one has figured out yet. Until now.

Think about it. Even ten years ago, if you saw somebody driving and talking away but there was no one else in their car, well, you would probably think they were a little bit nuts. Right? Now, you just assume they are on their cell phone and have one of those handless headsets. Isn’t that great? No more funny looks if you talk to yourself in the car any more! Image the freedom in this!

Want to bitch out your boss after a bad day at the office? No problem. You can yell and scream and berate him up one side and down the other while you drive home from work and no one will look twice at you. Practice that apology to your spouse while speeding down the highway or try out how you will explain to your parents why you are an hour past your deadline. The possibilities are endless.

In the past the word was divided into those who talk to themselves and those who don’t. I admit to being in the former group and oh the embarrassment of someone you know catching you talking to yourself. But not any more thanks to those wonderful little headsets. Now if somebody gives me a funny look, I simply point to my ear as if I have a hidden handset or I do that phone sign with my hand and they will smile and nod and drive on. So go out and buy your friends and family those headsets so that we crazies of the world can now talk to ourselves with impunity.

All Wrapped Up

2008-12-09T18:55:00.001-05:00

I am part of a large extended family consisting of an octogenarian widowed mother, two sisters, a brother, spouses for all three, seven nephews and nieces with one spouse and fiance for the two oldest ones plus now three grands. But unlike other such families, at Christmas time we don’t pull a name out of a hat so that you only have to buy a present for one person. Oh it has been suggested throughout the years but we all agreed that there is no fun in buying and wrapping just one present. Sure there are years when money is low (like now) so we give one present per couple or come up with some funny or sentimental gift that doesn't cost much but means a lot.

Besides, buying a present for only one person would mean that my siblings and I would miss out on having our annual holiday discussions. These conversations would confuse the best of accountants and would go something like this:

Sibling 1 calls Sibling 2 to ask “Do you want to go in together on a present for Mom?”

Sibling 2: “Definitely. How much?”

Sibling 1: “It cost $50 so that will be $25. But I owe $30 to Sibling 3 so pay them instead of me.”

Sibling 2 then calls Sibling 3: “I picked up the present you wanted to give to my daughter. You owe me $18 for that but now I am to pay you the $25 owed by Sibling 1.”

Sibling 3: “Wait a minute. I never paid Sibling 1 back for my share for the birthday present she bought last month.”

At this point everybody gets totally confused and decide it’s a wash and nobody gets paid back.

Once the presents are purchased, the next negotiations are about wrapping them. As we all live in different parts of the country, presents are often bought from catalogues or ordered on-line and shipped to each other. But paying Amazon or some other company $4+ to wrap each present adds up hence the wrapping wars. The ground rule is that you never ask someone to wrap presents bought for them but presents for their spouses and children are all fair game.

Earlier this week I called my sisters to discuss this year’s wrapping challenges. Over the weekend, the two of them had their own high level negotiations in regards to the number and size of wrapped vs. unwrapped packages being sent to each other. This year it turned out that I was sending 2 packages that still needed to be wrapped to one sister but the other would be receiving all wrapped packages.

As for the presents they are sending here, I live in the same town as our brother and both sisters told me that they are mailing their unwrapped packages to his house so that either he or my sister-in-law will have to wrap them. I like that idea! Plus my mother, who will be visiting for Christmas, has offered to help me wrap my many presents to my brother’s family. Wow. I really did get lucky in the wrapping lottery this year!

~

{sigh} Today I received an email from my 20 something niece. She was letting me know that she sent her present for her Grandmother (my Mom) to my house and would I please wrap it for her? Oh no! Our insane family holiday “traditions” are now infiltrating into a 3rd generation! And isn’t it wonderful?

Lorena Mae

Strange Cravings

Happy Halloween (or not)

Childhood Icons

Phone Talk

My Hurricane Diet

Cougars, MILFs and Matrons

Weddings and the Great Cookie Caper

Top 10 Books To Read Before You Die (Books 1-5)

Top 10 Books To Read Before You Die (Books 6-10)

Thank you Mr. Houghtaling!

Happy July 4th

The Third One

A Day of Sorrow

Dancing Fool

An Eyeful

A Physical Therapy Reject

Wedding Time

Where's FEMA When You Need 'em?

Friday Night Fiasco

A Letter to My Family

Out-rageously Bad

My Amazing But Crazy Niece

Technical Difficulties

Survived Another St Patrick's Day

Next thing is Sexting

Dressing Down

Hot? Not!

Hearing Voices

Midnight Musings

Call Me*

Midnight Musings

Facebook Fiasco

Button, Button I've Got the Buttons

Mail-less Saturdays?

Write Away

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall

UnMoving Day - Part 2

Midnight Musings

UnMoving Day - Part 1

The Name Game

Party Talk

I Know I Know Who That Actor Is – So Who Is He?

Happy New Year!

Making Christmas Memories

Christmas Visit with Mom

Christmas Cooking

Last Minute Christmas Gifts

All Wrapped Up