UPTOWN GIRLS

Oh! My! Gosh!

When my Sis said it was going to be a Thelma and Louise weekend, she wasn't kidding...

We hit the road at 6:30 a.m., bookin' it to Uptown Minneapolis from Des Moines in my sister's (surprise!) new sporty convertible...we crank the tunes way up, starting with the soundtrack from Thelma & Louise, of course...

I felt it when the sun came up this morning
I knew I could not wait another day
Darling, there is something I must tell you
A distant voice is calling me away...

Until we find a bridge across forever
Until this grand illusion brings us home
You and I will always be together
From this day on you`ll never walk alone...

You`re a part of me, I`m a part of you
Wherever we may travel
Whatever we go through

Whatever time may take away
It cannot change the way we feel today
So hold me close and say you feel it, too...
You`re a part of me, and I`m a part of you...

Highlights: A cuppa joe from Caribou Coffee in Des Moines...a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit (my fave) from Mickey D's in Story City... a strawberry slushy from Kwik Trip (can't remember where we were), lots of gabbing and laughing and singin' along to some great old tunes...I mean, we are beltin' 'em out...

Whenever I'm with him
Something inside
Starts to burning
And I'm filled with desire...

Could it be the devil in me
Or is this the way love's supposed to be?
It's like a heat wave
Burning in my heart
Can't keep from crying
It's tearing me apart...

It feels so good to get the heck out of Iowa... it feels even better to be hangin' with my Sis, actually doing something OTHER than going to a family funeral (our usual reason for a road trip). Not that we don't have fun together, whatever the reason...

Like the time we were driving to Michigan to visit our ailing dad (who, we had just found out, was dying from cancer) and we passed a road sign for The Sapp Brothers Truck Stop.

"Hey, the Sapp Brothers...I think I dated one of them in college," I quipped.

Ba-da-bump.

My niece's older, third-floor one-bedroom apartment is too cool for words...big windows looking out onto the bustling, eclectic Uptown Minneapolis neighborhood...grocery store, coffee shops, bars, restaurants a hop, skip and a jump from her front door...

Lunch at Stella's, outside, on the rooftop...breathtaking view of the downtown Minneapolis skyline and the best tuna melt sandwich and garlic mashed potatoes I have EVER tasted...not to mention the thirst-quenching ever-popular Stella's Purple Mojito...

Nibblin on sponge cake
Watchin the sun bake
All of those tourists covered with oil
Strummin my six-string
On my front porch swing
Smell those shrimp they're beginnin' to boil...

Wastin away again in Margaritaville
Searching for my lost shaker of salt...

Words of wit from the wall at Stella's: "Don't pity the lobster...it lives to kill."

LOL.

A two-block stroll after lunch takes us to Lake Calhoun...folks roller blading, riding bikes, sail boating, jogging and walking around the lake...oh, golly, the leaves are so beautiful here...reminds me why I love autumn...

We meander back toward Liz's apartment...she treats us to (surprise!) birthday manicures at reVamp, a trendy salon, followed by an exciting and educational ride in the Flour Tower at the historical Mill City Museum in downtown Minneapolis...

And suddenly it hits me...I have not had this much fun since Cincinnati...

I come home in the morning light
My mother says when you gonna live your life right
Oh, mother dear we're not the fortunate ones
And girls they want to have fun
Oh, girls just want to have fun...

The phone rings in the middle of the night
My father yells what you gonna do with your life
Oh, daddy dear you know you're still number one
But girls they want to have fun
Oh, girls just want to have -

That's all they really want
Some fun...
When the working day is done
Oh, girls they want to have fun
Oh, girls just want to have fun...

Later, back at the apartment, we relax for a while...I gaze out the windows, soaking up the late-afternoon ambience of Uptown Minneapolis...it's just so absolutely teeming with activity, with life...possibilities...I love it here. I could live here...

Correction.

I could've lived here. Once upon a time...

Suddenly, sirens scream.

A bedraggled bearded man stands, sorta stooped, on the street corner, a small, scribbled cardboard sign hangs from his scrawny neck..."Anything will help..."

I think, "There but for the grace of God go I..."

When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
When I lay me down to die
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky

Goin' up to the spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best.

We freshen our faces, fluff our hair, and off we go to Bar Abilene, just down the street, for an evening of dining and more girl talk...

As you brush your shoes
And stand before the mirror
And you comb your hair
And grab your coat and hat
And you walk, wet streets,
Tryin to remember
All the wild night breezes
In your memory ever.

And evrything looks so complete
When you're walkin out on the street
And the wind catches your feet
And sends you flyin, cryin

Ooh-wee! The wild night is calling...

We could talk-- and laugh -- all night. I love my sis and my niece so much...I want to freeze this moment, this perfect moment...

I don't wanna be the one who's old before their time
And lose the wonder that I felt as a child
I can't run this race believing I might lose
There's still so much to see, so much left to do

Yes, I'll fall before I fly
But no one can say I never tried
Oh, we just get one ride around the sun
In this dream of time
It goes so fast
And one day we look back
And we ask, Was that my life?

I close my eyes and think how lucky I have been
To hold the ones I love, and share my dreams with them
All those sunny days and all those starry skys
Good Morning kisses and sweet Good Nights

I can't tell them enough
Just how much they are loved...

Well, I gotta get some sleep...if I can get to sleep...

What a great day...

Oh, Joy Is Me!

Mimi is a woman now!

Yes, lo and behold, my darling 8-month-old Rat Terrier is having her first menstrual period.

I suppose I need to have "the talk" with her, and reassure her she can still run and fetch a bone and go swimming while menstruating, and I could possibly instruct her on how to use a heating pad to relieve cramps...

But right now I am frantically trying to figure out how to get to Des Moines to buy doggy diapers, or pooch pants, or bitches britches-- or whatever the hell one calls the things dogs use during that time of the month -- or year, or whatever -- before I leave for Minneapolis this weekend...

We just can't buy those delicate pieces of canine lingerie here in Podunk.

Oh, I suppose I could use baby diapers, as some of my in-the-know dog-loving friends have advised. Just cut a little hole for Mimi's tail here, use a little surgical tape to strap it around Mimi there...

Yeah, right.

Like I say, she's a RAT TERRIER! A high-intensity, jump-a-second RAT TERRIER.

Does anyone reeeaallyy think the little darling will sit still long enough for me to strap a diaper or pants of any kind on her?

Hah!

And just how long does anyone think said diaper will last? Mimi will have that thing chewed to smithereenies in seconds flat...

Oh, well...this, too shall pass...

Brings back such fond memories of my first period....my mother calling all over the neighborhood... Mrs. B., Mrs. Morgan, probably Mrs. Maier, too...and and in an excited, albeit hushed, voice, announcing,"Ann's a woman!"

Thank God she didn't have a blog.

WOW!

Thanks to all who took the time to read and comment back to me, either here or via email, regarding my post on Blog Action Day...

It was great feeling like this blog was part of something BIG...and meaningful...something that maybe, just maybe, made people take a minute or two and think about the the environment environment and what steps we can take to save the earth.

In case you are curious just how many blogs participated in Blog Action Day, click here.

You may just be amazed.

Happy Birthday, Sis!

Leaving home for the first time is hard...But paying the phone bills when you're away from your sister is harder!

So goes the quote in one of my "Sisters" keepsake books that my very own sister -- OK, I still call her Sissy at times -- gave me for my 50th birthday last year.

I was thumbing through that book recently because A) I was actually dusting the bookshelf it sits on and B) my Sis and I turn a year older this month (she, of course, being the older sister by, ahem, eight years), and I began reflecting on growing older.

In fact, my sis's birthday is today!

I had to chuckle about the sisters and phonebills saying because no one knows how to run up a phone bill like me, and nobody knows that better than my dear Sis.

"If you ever feel homesick, just call me collect," she said to me after dropping me off at my freshman college dorm at Ohio University back in '75.

And so I did.

That poor gal was swimming in long distance phone bills before my first three weeks of my first year of college had passed.

Hey, what can I say? I missed my Sissy.

She has always been there for me...

Through thick and thin (and every fad diet we have ever tried)...

In good times and bad (like cleaning out our dad's house after he died...it was the worst of times, and yet, it turned out to be one of the most hilarious sisterly bonding experiences we've ever had...hard to explain unless you knew our dad...ah, hell, unless you knew our whole family...let's just say me and my Sis know how to put the "fun" back in dysfunctional)...

In sickness and in health ( I always waited to get sick until I was home from college for the holidays, and my Sis was right there with the chicken soup, the crackers, the 7-Up)...

Indeed, a sister -- my sister -- has been a constant source of strength, wisdom, comfort and pride.

A sister always knows when to bring tissues and when to bring champaigne...or tissues and a pitcher of margaritas at the same time...whatever it takes...

Sisters allow you the joy of becoming an aunt...although, when my niece and nephew were little, and after spending a weekend with them, I'd always feel like doubling up on my birth control pills (an old, standing joke between me and my Sis).

In fact, this weekend, my Sis and I are taking off for Minneapolis to visit my niece...

A Thelma and Louise weekend to celebrate our birthdays (mine is next week), although my Sis promises we're not going to rob or shoot anyone, and we definitely are coming back...we're just getting out of town, playin' our favorite tunes, and doing what we do best -- gabbing and laughing.

Ah, yes...the older you get, the more fun it is to have a sister...

It's true, you know.

A sister is a forever friend.

And I thank God for her.

Happy Birthday, Sis! I love you!

IF EVERYONE LIVED LIKE ME...

If everyone lived like me, we would need 3.9 planets.

Yikes.

That's according to the "How Big Is Your Footprint?" quiz I answered recently on earthday.net in preparation for today, Blog Action Day, when thousands of bloggers across the world are posting about one very important issue: the environment.

The political activist in me, of course, jumped at the chance to participate in Blog Action Day. And I immediately considered regaling Home Stretch readers with some of my fondest memories from my one and only semi-recent environmental "crusade"...

Some Stuart bloggers may still remember my non-stop newspaper coverage of the Adair County Iowa Citizens for Community Improvement's (ICCI) successful -- and history-making -- campaign a few years back to keep a large, smelly, non-environmentally friendly hog confinement from being built in Stuart. Who knew that there was so much to know about the wrong way and the right way to complete and submit manure management plans?

It occurred to me, however, that it is always easy to point fingers at the large Confined Animal Feeding Operation (CAFO) folks, and other big corporate industries that are regularly contributing to the destruction of our environment yet ignore what we, as indiviuals, are doing in our daily lives to make environmental matters worse.

I mean, is it enough to recycle empty Gatorade bottles and turn off the water while I brush my teeth? Or is there more I can do to live a "green" life? Just how much "nature" does my lifestyle require?

So I took the "How Big Is Your Footprint" Quiz, which estimates how much productive land and water you and I need to support what we use and what we discard.

After answering 15 easy questions, here is what I learned:
*My ecological footprint, based on my quiz results, is 17 acres.
*The average ecological footprint in the United States is 24 acres per person.
*Worldwide, there exists 4.5 biologically productive acres per person.

Thus, like I said at the beginning of this post, if everyone lived like me, we would need 3.9 planets.

Yikes.

That's not good. Especially for a woman who once insisted on using cloth bags for hauling home groceries when I went Krogering (back in my Cinci days) and who encouraged Daniel to hug trees when he was little (thank you, Sesame Street).

So what in the world can we do do to live a greener, more environmentally-sound life?

According to the William J. Clinton Foundation:

Tip # 1 Get on Your Bike!
For every mile you ride your bike instead of driving a car, you avoid the production of about one pound of carbon dioxide. ( I have been riding my bike now and then since I am sans my own car.)

Tip # 2 Save Water with Powder Detergents
Switch from liquid detergents to powders. Laundry liquids are mostly water (approx. 80%). It costs energy and packaging to bring this water to the consumer. (That's not a hard switch to make...but what about Downey? I LOVE Downey...)

Tip # 3 Save a Tree, or Two or Three
Get tough on tissues. If every household in the U.S. replaced one box of 85 sheet virgin fiber facial tissues with 100% recycled ones, we could save: 87,700 trees, 226,500 cubic feet of landfill space ( equal to 330 full garbage trucks), 31 million gallons of water (Annual supply for 240 families of four), and avoid 5,300 pounds of pollution! Buy only recycled paper products for your office, bathroom and kitchen. (Again, not too tough to do.)

Tip # 4 Check Your Water Heater
Keep your water heater thermostat no higher than 120°F. Save 550 lbs. of carbon dioxide and $30 per year. Talk to your building or condo manager to upgrade the efficiency of the boiler in your building to magnify the savings. (Sounds like a job for John.)

Tip # 5 Change Your Light Bulbs
Replace 3 frequently used light bulbs with compact fluorescent bulbs. This will save approximately 300 lbs. of carbon dioxide and $60 per year. (Another "honey do" job for John.)

Tip #6 Muscle Mow Your Lawn
Mowing for an hour with a gasoline- powered lawn mower can produce as much air pollution as a 350-mile drive in a car. Consider this alternative which emits nothing other than clippings and burns calories too: push a lightweight reel mower. (Oh, c'mon Bill...you've got to be kidding...)

Tip #7 Change Your Thermostat
Conserve fuel by turning down the heat at night and while you are away from your home — or install a programmable thermostat. Setting the airconditioning thermostat in your building to 76 degrees in the summer will dramatically reduce your electricity bill and you'll do your bit to save energy and the environment. (I've already vowed that we will be wearing hats, coats, gloves to bed and wrapping our faces in towels so nose hairs don't freeze in order to avoid having to pay those blood-sucking municipal utility people any more money than I already have to this winter...)

Tip # 8 Reduce Garbage
Buy products with less packaging and recycle paper, plastic and glass. You can save around 1,000 lbs. of carbon dioxide per year by reducing, reusing and recycling. (Can-do. Tho' I must confess that lately I have been lazy and tossing the aforementioned empty Gatorade bottles in the trash...my bad.)

Tip # 9 Use Recycled Paper
According to the EPA, from Thanksgiving to New Year's Day, household waste increases by more than 25 percent due to holiday gift-giving. When wrapping gifts, remember to recycle and reuse. Also whenever possible use 100% post-consumer recycled paper when printing and save approximately 5 lbs. of carbon dioxide per ream of paper. (Oh, puh-leez...don't even talk about the holidays...)

Tip # 10 Fill Your Dishwasher
Run your dishwasher only with a full load. Save approximately 100 lbs. of carbon dioxide and $40 per year. Why not set it to eco-mode to save even more energy and water? (Dishwasher? What dishwasher? That old brown piece of decaying metal that sits in my kitchen? Hah. We don't use no stinkin' dishwasher... we do it the old fashioned way...Lemon Joy and a little elbow grease...)

Well, starting today I'll work harder to do what I can to put my best, greenest foot forward.

I'll do it for Daniel and the rest of the world's kids. For, as they say, the meek shall inherit the earth.

Or what's left of it.

COMING MONDAY...

STAY TUNED...

NOT A SQUARE TO SPARE

Good Morning, Blogosphere!

To my regular Home Stretch readers -- and you know who you are -- I apologize for not posting more this past week...

Busy reinventing myself for the purpose of improving my financial status.

Although my husband and I have picked out the bridge we think we might enjoy living under in retirement, I'm figurin' that a better paying job might be the more sensible solution.

Will fill you in later.

Right now, must run to the store -- we are out of toity paper and dog food.

Then it's off to In The Dough (my favorite local coffee spot since Starbucks is loathe to locate here in Podunk) for a bit of caffeine and a delicious sweet roll -- or two -- with my friend Nancy -- and maybe Angie, if she can get her rear end out of the sack this a.m. :)

Then it's off to Great Clips so Sonny Boy can get that mop of his cut...

Just another Pleasant Valley Saturday.

Back soon.

Celebrating My Truly Beautiful, Perfectly Imperfect Life

No one is perfect.

No one.

We all -- each and every one of us -- are perfectly imperfect.

And that, my friends, is a truth to celebrate; a comforting, freeing reminder to let go of perfectionism wherever and whenever it rears its brutal, unattainable head.

Indeed, like it or not, perfection-- no matter how hard we try -- is unattainable. Imperfection, on the other hand, is naturally occuring. Unavoidable. And, if you adhere to the wabi-sabi philosophy oflooking at life, imperfection is beautiful.

Wabi-sabi also recognizes the bittersweet impermanence of the moments of our lives.

Bottom line? It's a wabi-sabi life, brothers and sisters, and by golly, it's high time I start living it -- and enjoying it -- as such.

I know, I know...

Yesterday I was blogging about feng shui...today it's wabi-sabi...

Frankly, I fear that once my feng shui is evaluated, I will realize that I have to repaint every room, and paint is not in my budget right now. Wabi-sabi, from what I can deduce, is a more affordable life philosophy...

It's a universal ideal of beauty celebrating the basic, the unique, and the imperfect parts of our lives.

Remember the comfortable joy you felt as a child, happily singing off key? Creatively coloring outside the lines? Mispronouncing words with gusto? That, my friends, is a simple explanation of wabi-sabi.

Or, on a deeper level, wabi-sabi is "the profound awareness of our oneness with all life and the environment. It includes a deep awareness of the choices we make each day, the power we have to accept or reject each moment of our lives, and to find value in every experience."

In other words, adopting a wabi-sabi approach to life means "appreciate this and every moment, no matter how imperfect, for this moment is your life. When you reject this moment, you reject your life."

(Eeeek! How much time have I wasted rejecting my life over the years?)

That's not to say that you must settle for this moment, of course. You are, according to Gold, "free to steer a different course, but for now, this moment is yours, so be mindful to make the most of it."

Amen.

Slow down, you're movin' too fast

Ya gotta make the moment last

Just kickin' down the cobblestones

Lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy...

So just how does one live a wabi-sabi life? How does one who is caught up in the mad-dash race we call life, get to the "Imperfect Life, I love you, all is groovy" point?

More to come on wabi-sabi.

Have You Checked Your Feng Shui Lately?

So I was chillin' with my friend Gloria the other afternoon (I call her Glo for short), and she generously offered to swing by my house some Saturday and check out my feng shui...

I figured,"why not?"

I mean, hell's bells, Mabel, a little feng shui overhaul just might be the key to improving daily life at The Homestretch household.

Admittedly, I know very little-- nothing, really -- about feng shui-- but considering how my life generally goes, I am sure its off kilter and needs adjusting.

Glo said something about my relationship corner, and my financial corner...something about taking two pics --one of me and one of John -- facing them toward each other and binding them together by wrapping a red ribbon around them 99 times (exactly why 99 times as opposed to say, 98 or 100, she didn't say), and placing them in the relationship corner of my house.

I'm game. What could it hurt?

Of course, if I understood Glo correctly (and chances are, I did not) my relationship corner is, like, in Daniel's room...and he might not quite "get" the whole feng shui mom-and-dad-pic-wrapped-in-a-red-ribbon dangling from a corner of his ceiling or whatever.

Of course, I could stash the pic under his bed (which is in a corner) and, based on the number of empty Gatorade bottles, dirty undrwear and stinky football socks that are usually taking up residency there, the pic would most likely go unnoticed for years...

I would even go so far as to say that the pic would probably sit there, quietly, unobtrusively doing its feng shui thing under DJ's bed for DECADES unless, for some strange reason, Daniel got an extremely wild hair and decided to thoroughly clean his room...

But I digress.

Anyway...

As for my financial feng shui, there is, as Glo explained it, something about taping a $100 bill under your desk...the desk, of course, must be in the financial corner of your house.

LOLOLOLOLOL.

Firstly, I'm a'thinkin' there ain't no financial corner in our house.

Secondly, if there is a $100 bill to be found anywhere near our house, I won't be affixing it to the bottom of my desk. The blood-sucking Municipal Utilities will be getting it. Or the blood-sucking mortgage people. Or the blood-sucking home owners insurance people.

Yet again, I digress.

At any rate, I can't wait to hear what Glo has to say after evaluating my feng shui...if nothing else, it will most likely mean an afternoon of rearranging my living room, which is always a good time...and GREAT therapy.

Stay tuned.

Well, Yippy Skippy...It's Sarcastics Awareness Month

All these years spent dripping in sarcasm, and I never even had an inkling that October was THE month for those of us who dabble in the "S" word.

I glean from my research that Sarcastics Awareness Month is

(1) For those who realize they are sarcastic and want to get it under control;

(2) For those who are sarcastic and want to get better at it; and

(3) For those who are forced to live or work with people who are sarcastic.

This "special" month is sponsored by -- big surprise -- Sarcastics Anonymous.

This is also Clergy Appreciation Month.

Hmm...clergy appreciation...

Now there's an oxymoron...

Ba-da-bump.

Still Time To Celebrate...

All my griping about my dog today (see earlier post) and I almost forgot what today is!

C'mon now...everybody yell: "Happy Name Your Car Day!"

What?

You say your car doesn't have a name? My gosh, do you have ice water running through your veins? Think of all the time you spend in your car...the damn machine needs a name.

Back in the day, when I drove my dad's falling-apart old greenish-blue '75 Ford Galaxy 500 convertible, my friend Linda andI named my jalopy "The Green Gobbler" for (what else?) the strange, gobbling-like noise it made when we repeatedly circled Linda's cul-de-sac.

Made perfectly good sense, don'tcha think?

My current car -- a 2001 yellow Ford Escape -- I have dubbed "You Stupid, Good-For-Nothing Piece of Crap".

Need I expound?

So, before the clock strikes midnight and "Name Your Car Day is but a bittersweet memory, kick up your heels--or kick the tires, if you are so moved -- and give your car its day in the sun...or, in this case (considering it is 8:10 p.m. (9:10 Cinci time), its night under the moon.

Now, if you've been wanting to name your car, but haven't a clue how to go about doing that, here are some helpful car-naming tips that I just pirated off my one of my favorite "bizarre October holiday" websites:

*Don't select wimpy names. That might give your car a personality complex and it will perform accordingly.

*Do give a strong, aggressive name to sports cars and cars with powerful engines.

*Sleek, sexy feline-like cars savor names that begin with "lady".

*Old junkers are proud just to be around. You can call them just about anything. Try "Tramp", or "Old Yeller", "Old Blue".

*Pick names to reflect your personality.

*"Pickemup" trucks must have country names.

*Don't give common names (like Joe, Mike or Becky) to luxury cars. They beam over names like Reginald, Archibald, and Crystal.

Nitey-nite.

FREE TO A GOOD HOME

Today, she chewed the stuffing out of my antique kitchen chairs.

A few weeks ago, she destroyed two pairs of John's shoes.

When she was three months old, she chewed my new eyeglasses all to hell (before they were paid for, I might add), and let's see, what else...

I could go on, but why?

Whose ingenious suggestion was it to get a Jack Rat anyway?

Didn't we learn after Rosie, the insane and totally w/o bladder control Cocker Spaniel?

Note to self: I am NOT a dog person.

Geesh.

Time Passages

I'm in a bit of a blog fog this a.m. due, I figure, to that intense emotional merry-go-round we call "life".

Mourning the death of a friend one minute -- reminded, once again, how vulnerable we all are, how tomorrow is promised to no one, how we must make the most of the present -- and then having to put on my happy, smiling, "ain't life grand" game face as I schlep groceries the next...

I want to make each day count, but the days anymore seem to storm by at the speed of light...how does one find time to stop and smell the roses before the roses are being draped atop your casket or the casket of someone you love?

Maybe that's why last night I was dreaming about riding stark naked in the front seat of a speeding car -- not sure who was at the wheel -- and seeing before me, just beyond the windshield, the bright lights of a giant ferris wheel...the carnival was in town!

Oh, how I wanted to stop and ride the rides and smell the popcorn and I was so excited...and, apparently, not one bit bothered by the fact that I did not have a stitch of clothing on...

"Oh, can we stop? Please?" I begged the driver.

But the driver just kept going. We drove around the bend.

I missed the damn carnival.

I dare say you don't have to be Freud to analyze THAT dream...

So here I sit at the computer-- fully clothed,I might add -- thinking of a million things I should be doing instead of writing...laundry, dishes, dusting, blah, blah, blah.

But I love to write...it is one of my life's passions...and at almost 51, ANY kind of passion needs to be savored -- so the laundry, dishes, dusting will just have to wait a few more minutes.

Here's to Saturday mornings and smelling the roses and writing --or doing whatever it is you love to do.

Time is of the essence, my friends.

Make the most it.

LOVE KEEPS US TOGETHER

It's been a very sad week.

Hard to believe that it's been a week already. A week ago today.

Impossible to fathom how life just rushes on in the face of death...the loss of a friend...a mother...a wife...

There are jobs to get back to , classes to make up, bills to pay...the daily details of our lives...

But we must take time to grieve...to face our losses...to feel the crushing sorrow, brave the immeasurable pain...

However, in our grief, we must also take time to remember the good times, the laughter, the beauty of the life that once touched ours.

Our loved ones never leave us, really, when we keep our fondest memories of them alive in our hearts.

Yes, our love for our dear ones, our memories of them, keeps us together. Forever.

Patty touched so many lives...

A Bridge Called Love
It takes us back to brighter years,
to happier sunlit days
and to precious moments
that will be with us always.

And these fond recollections
are treasured in the heart
to bring us always close to those
from whom we had to part.

There is a bridge of memories
from earth to Heaven above...

It keeps our dear ones near us
It's the bridge that we call love.

~~Author Unknown

But Is It Coffee?

Soul Sisters Just Wanna Have Fun

Patty would have been pleased.

In fact, we could feel her presence as members of our original SOUL (Stressed Out Unified Ladies) group gathered, gabbed, and gobbled up pizza last night in a sort of Big Chill memorial tribute to our fellow sister who was buried earlier yesterday.

It felt like old times, sitting around the "Upper Room" at the church where we used to meet and talk and laugh and offer support for each other until the wee hours of the morning...my gosh, how long had it been? Seven years? Ten?

When we went to the nearby pizza place to dine, we made sure to pull up a chair for Patty.

Patty, we all agreed, was the best one of us all -- kind, compassionate, caring, non-judgmental...her soul was always in the right place.

That's why we know that her soul is in the right place now. We're all hoping and praying she's putting in a good word for the rest of us with the Big Guy...

Otherwise, we're sunk...:)

We've decided to breathe life back into SOUL...try to get together at least once a month...we're all too old and too busy these days to gab into the wee hours of the morning like we used to. But we realize how much we've missed getting together and laughing...

It's too bad it took Patty's funeral to get us all together...but isn't that just like Patty...Even in death, as in life, Patty is still doing and caring and looking out for others. Even her SOUL sisters.

It was, to say the least, a bittersweet evening...

Indeed, Patty was the best one of us all.

Final Flight

Today was Patty's funeral.

Some of us who haven't seen each other much in recent times gathered together around her coffin to pay our final respects...

It's still hard to believe...

We've promised to not wait till the "next" funeral to get together...but life gets so busy...

There is comfort knowing that Patty's suffering here on earth is over...she is free at last...and she left this earth the way she wanted to -- peacefully, in her sleep, her son a high school grad getting along well at college ...

Patty, in her own, always-caring-more-for-others way, would not want us to grieve too long...she would want us to make our days count in a myriad of ways. How perfectly fitting, then, the poem on her funeral folder:

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free,
I'm following the path God laid for me.
I took his hand when I heard his call,
I turned my back and left it all.

I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work, to play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I've found that peace at the end of the day.

If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah, yes, these things, too, I will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My Life's been full, I savoured much,
Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief,
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now,
He set me free.

In Memory of Patty

~ What Cancer Cannot Do ~
Cancer is limited
Cancer cannot cripple love
Cancer cannot shatter hope
Cancer cannot erode faith
Cancer cannot destroy peace
Cancer cannot kill friendship
Cancer cannot destroy memories
Cancer cannot silence courage
Cancer cannot invade the soul
Cancer cannot steal eternal life
Cancer cannot conquer the spirit
Cancer is limited.....

Cancer never crippled Patty's love for others
It never shattered her hope
It didn't erode her faith...

Patty's unrelenting courage in the face of recurring incurable illness was unbelievable; her brave carry-on- and-keep-smiling spirit never wavered...

"Don't count your days, make your days count," advises the decorative plaque in Patty's kitchen.

That was more than a motto for Patty...it was her life's song.

MAMA'S GOT THE 'FIRST HOMECOMING' BLUES

Tonight is the night I worried about the minute my son was born 14 1/2 years ago...

It's the night of his first high school dance...Homecoming 2007...

Wait just a minute as I pour the tears out of his baby shoes...there...(sob, sob) now, where was I?

Oh, yes...DJ's first Homecoming dance...my God, where have the years gone?

He looked very handsome, all dressed up, a boutenere and all...it wasn't until we pulled into his date's driveway, however, and he escorted her to the car and opened the door for her that I felt the lump in my throat.

(Or was it her little STRAPLESS black dress -- yiiiiiiikes -- that brought tears to my eyes and protective mother cat claws to my fingertips?)

She's a lovely girl, and she looked absoultely stunning, even tho I was sooo tempted to offer her a turtle neck winter coat to combat the slight chill in the early fall evening air...

I kept my composure until after they had started walking toward the school door, fairly well beyond earshot...at least a half a foot...and then the tears burst forth.

"Oh, my God, my baby!" I sobbed.

John just kept on driving. Fast.

When I got home, I gathered up DJ's baby shoes, his football, and his kindergarten picture, placed them on the kitchen table...nudged my hubby, pointed at the makeshift DJ shrine, and just sobbed some more...

I toyed with the idea of grabbing my husband's night vision goggles and dashing up to the school to sneak a peek, to secretly peer into the high school commons just to see how things were going...

Was it to late to volunteer as a chaperone?

Well, my golly, look at the time...

Here it is 10:01 already...only 59 minutes to go until we pick up DJ and his date (omigod, his DATE) and take them to a little after-dance party up the street...

Did I just type "after-dance party"?

Omigod.

Where are those damn night vision goggles?

Stay tuned.

SINS OF THE MOTHER

"So Mom, can I go toilet papering?" my frisky freshman son asked me the second last night's Homecoming pep rally ended.

"Uh...."

That's all I could think to say...I knew the question would be coming, but I still wasn't prepared.

Technically, I couldn't stand the thought of my little darling contributing to the naughty, albeit traditional, stringing of toity paper hither and yon about town the night before the big football game....and yet, TPing was a staple in my misspent youth....and he knew it.

He'd heard me talk about it...not at any great length. But still, he knew of my secret sin -- though I don't think my dad ever caught on to my late-night slumber party shenanigans...

"Who are you going with?" I asked, sternly.

As if the group of future prison lifers he was about to run with made a difference in my decision. I mean, I knew who was going -- like half the student population, including the "darlings" of said student pop.

"OK, but don't do anything stupid (like there is anything about TPing that ISN'T stupid?) and be home by 10," I said.

He negotiated 10:30, I said OK, and off he went.]

And I felt sick.

I mean, I was sure I was condoing what could be the start of a license plate-making future for my one and only offspring.

Of course, back in the day, we never even entertained the idea of ASKING our parents if we could go TPing...we just did it. Under the cloak of really late-night/early morning darkness...like 2 a.m. -- in our PJs...

And none of us spent any time in jail...that I know of.

When he came home (at 10:15, mind you, so maybe he isn't destined for prison) I asked him how it went and he regaled me with stories of running and hiding and all the goofy stuff that goes along with TPing...and deep down inside I was laughing hysterically...it did bring back some pretty funny memories....

Like the time my friends and I went TPing and we accidentally locked the car keys in the trunk and had to remove the back seat in order to retrieve the keys and get the heck out of Dodge before we got caught after the "job".

I still have the pics. Somewhere...

Anyway...

It's going to be a long four years.

Homecoming, Burning Leaves, Memories & More

Feeling nostalgic?

Tonight is my son's first Homecoming cornonation...his jersey is being auctioned off...big pep rally...the big Homecoming game tomorrow night...the DANCE Saturday night....he's got a DATE (if that's what they call it these days)...

I still can't believe he is a freshman...

Sunrise, sunset and all that jazz.

I was never a Homecoming queen candidate, nor were most of my my closest high school friends.

But I still remember my first Homecoming -- Denny was my date -- he was a sophomore or junior...and shorter than me...and he weighed less than me...he was a wrestler.

Anyway, I remember the corsage...the dress I wore...

Of course, being a drill team member, I am sure we performed at halftime at our football game...can't remember who we played...I think Denny might have been a quarterback...who knows...who knows where Denny is today...

At any rate, fall and Homecoming bring back so many memories...as does the aroma of burning leaves...

The leaves aren't quite ready to rake, but if you love the smell of burning leaves, and that smell takes you back, you will really enjoy I Remember JFK today...

Have a great Thursday evening...I'll be keeping an eye on whomever "wins" my son's football jersey...No. 81...

Kleenex...Pass me a Kleenex....

FOR LINDA

GUESS WE'RE ALL GETTING OLDER

Wow.

:-) officially joins the QuarterCentury Club today...

If you missed that story, click here and catch up on the popular emoticon's special natal day...

Sally is right, you know...

Interesting issue Gidget has gotten herself into...

But she does have a point.

If women ruled the world...

But that doesn't mean I want Hillary as next prez of the US of A.

Frankly, I like Mr. Obama.

Anyway, go Sally!

ONE REGRET I WILL NEVER HAVE...

Lord knows I've suffered from Buyer's Remorse, and a host of other types of remorse during my lifetime.

Thankfully, I never got a tattoo and have absoultely no plans to get one, hence, a growing concern called "tattoo remorse" is one thing I won't suffer from...yay!

Click here to read about all the folks who ARE regretting their tattoos, however, and how whopping expensive it can be to have the little dickens removed...

Happy Monday!

X-TRA! X-TRA!

As The Nuts Gather Their Squirrels For Winter...

So, too, do I begin to seek out the comfort of certain cold-weather food and beverage.

Crock pot pork roast and mashed potatoes with gravy...

Apple crisp...ladled with cream...

Pumpkin bars slathered with that yummy cream cheese frosting...

Hot chocolate and Peppermint Schnaps...

Indeed, temperatues plummeted yesterday, and it was 48 degrees as we left the football game last night...the football game where, I might add, I devoured two hot beef sandwiches BEFORE halftime.

Then, on the way home, we stopped at Burger King, and I treated myself to a Whopper Junior w/cheese, fries and a Sprite.

And I didn't feel a twinge of guilt.

If you, like me, find yourself craving more and heavier-type fare as Fall closes in, take heart...

You and I are just normal human beings, our bodies in sync with nature, with the seasons. Read all about it at BoomerGirl.com.

See, we're beefing up for a cold winter...making sure we've got a little extra skin on our bones to keep us warm when the snow starts to fly...

Here at our house, however, we're going to need more than extra skin to keep us warm this winter.

Since ripping open our monthly utility bill and discovering our budget billing amount has skyrocketed from $150/mo to $350/mo, I've issued the edict that from this point forward, we will not turn the furnace on -- ever -- this winter. It's coats, hats and long socks at bedtime, which will be as soon as the sun goes down since we will not be using electric lights of any kind for reading or finding our way through the house after dark.

Geesh.

How's an underpaid grocery schlepper with a bachelor of science degree in magazine journalism, living in small-town rural Iowa, supposed to afford the ever-rising cost of living?

Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, I'm heading to the kitchen for heaping plate of French Toast smeared in real butter and syrup and a steaming cup of fat-ladened chocolate raspberry creamer with a splash of coffee.

I will survive.

Hey, It's A Compliment...

As a grocery store cashier, I can so relate to making sure the person attempting to purchase alcohol is of age.

However, either this woman is a real looker, or the cashier is a tad overzealous about the letter of the law...

Anyway, it's a compliment to the lady.

I do have a friend, Nancy, who is 70 and looks 45...she is absolutely gorgeous and young looking...

"I'd give my eye teeth to look like Nancy when I'm 70," I sighed to my husband.

"It would have helped if you had looked like Nancy when you were 25," he quipped, planting a big ol' kiss on my olive-drab green Biore Pore Perfect Shine Control Clay Mask-smeared cheek..

Funny guy.

But he loves me, imperfect pores and all.

Good Times! Good Times!

Omigosh!

If you're a Boomer, and once spent hours listening to your 45s on your old portable record player, you've GOT to check out I Remember JFK today...

LOL.

He's got THAT memory down to a T...including playing the 45s at 78 speed...my mother HATED it when I did that on her good record player, so we had to sneak it once in awhile...:)

My friends and I also spent a lot of time lipsynching our favorite songs in front of the big mirror over the couch in my living room...we used hairbrushes for microphones...

Ahhh...

I still have all my old albums -- scratched and crackly tho' they are....I still love them...

Beatles '65: Got that for my 9th birthday...

Anyway...take a great, rockin' trip down memory lane at I Remember JFK today...you'll be glad you did!

What IS Phenylalanine and What Is it Doing In My Green Tea?

I dreamed all night about being bit by snakes, so I am in a very grouchy mood today...

Hence, I am just going to bitch about stuff today...enter this blog at your own risk, specially if you are NOT in the mood to read the ramblings of one very cranky woman...

Anyway, I love my Diet Lipton Green Tea (Citrus flavor) but it disturbs me to read that it contains phenylketonurics -- phenylalanine. I decided to Google the subject and see what the hell I'm drinking twice, sometimes three times, a day.

So here is what I found...

As I suspected, it has to do with that damn nasty, sweet poison aspartame...

Wonder if aspartame poisoning can cause snake dreams...

I mean, what else could it be?

I never saw the movie "Snakes On A Plane," though there may have been a snake at the Cincinnati airport but i didn't see it at the time...I dunno...

I'm also not too thrilled about the latest report regarding the wonderfully buttery (albeit fake buttery) smell of micorave popcorn...

Did you read about that?

Arghghghghghgh...

No wonder we are all keeling over from cancer and other horrible and often mysterious diseases and ailments...

We all need detox...

Every Ending a New Beginning

So today, Labor Day, marks the last day of summer.

Thank God.

I'm really in the mood for fall this year, not just for the beautiful, bright-colored leaves and the cooler days and nights and because fall is my favorite season, but more for the Season of Introspection that autumn affords.

I suppose, really, that the dead of winter is truly the season for introspection...I mean, what else does one have to do in the midst of arctic cold, snow and ice-covered trees except wrap up in a blanket and peer into one's soul?

I hate the dead of winter, though...I find it offers a little too much time for reflection and self-searching...I would even go so far as to say that I find the dead of winter damn depressing...in fact, I would venture to say you don't know the meaning of depressing until you experience January (and even possibly February) in Iowa...

Hence, October, I have found, is my best month for sifting through the shards of my life and piecing them into some sort of healthy, rational perspective. Not always an easy thing to do, but necessary for continuing personal growth.

Looking myself square in the deepest regions of my soul usually involves kicking myself in the arse for this, that or the other thing... and I can usually count on some tears and gnashing of teeth. But grieving is part of letting go and moving on, of trying harder and doing better the next time, no matter what the issue.

There is, however, an oh-so-fine line between healthy grieving and wallowing in self-recrimination; between cool, cleansing tears of release and the hot, stinging tears of regret.

But it's good to experience both types of crying in one's lifetime so that one knows the difference and, hopefully, learns to avoid situations that could cause one to drown in remorse...

The bad news? Sometimes, that kind of learning takes time. The good news? With age comes wisdom...or so they say.

Anyway...today, Labor Day 2007, I celebrate the end of the summer and the beginning of the Season of Introspection by resting up in preparation for whatever Truth and Realization I may encounter in the coming, self-searching months.

Cups of coffee drenched in French vanilla creamer...a couple of hot, buttered blueberry muffins...a morning spent moodling...lounging on my porch swing while gazing at the 123-old maple tree in my front yard, the tips of but a couple of her green leaves just starting to turn red/orange...

To everything (turn, turn, turn)

There is a season (turn, turn,turn)

Kleenex...I need a Kleenex...

Sunday Sensibilities

Of course, you'll appreciate "Nancy Drew's Guide To Life" by Jennifer Worick a heckuva lot more if , indeed, you are a Nancy Drew fan and remember the storylines from her books...

Nevertheless, I think you will find it all good, sound advice...and now, just a few nuggets to bring a grin to your face this absolutely GORGEOUS Sunday morning (at least it is where I live...):

Survival Strategies:
Moxie and a good sense of balance are essential when crawling on a roof ~ from The Hidden Staircase

When bound and gagged, you can still tap out HELP in Morse code to attract attention ~ from The Clue of the Tapping Heels

If you hear the telltale sounds of a helicopter, step away from a blaze in the fireplace. The copter might send a downdraft into the chimney and shower sparks all over your sleek coif. ~ from The Mystery of the 99 Steps

Dating: A Primer
Make your date work for you-- send him on B-level errands you can't seem to fit into your busy schedule. ~ The Clue in the Diary

A forceful and skilled dance partner will make you forget everything on your mind. ~ The Clue of the Velvet Mask

If a guy's hunch results in a dead-end, don't flaunt your better judgement and intuition in front of him. Smirk secretly to yourself. ~ The Phantomof Pine Hill

After receiving an electrical shock to the system, find as many men as possible to vigorously massage you. ~ Mystery of the Glowing Eye

Next Up: Nancy's nuggets on sleuthing, etiquette,and -- something we may all need in our retirement depending on the status of our 401ks -- wilderness tips.

2,000! YEE-HA!

Woo-Hoo!

While I was out galavanting around Carroll today --OK, I took DJ to get a badly-needed haircut-- ye ol' site meter turned over to 2,000!

(So it has taken a tiny while...I sort of quit blogging here whenI was too busy blogging elsewhere (see earlier post) for the better part of the last year..but it's gratifying to think that The Home Stretch is actually read...)

And I even have some "regular" readers -- thank you all so much!

If I only knew who the 2,000th visitor actually was...

Oh,well...no sense looking a gift blogger in the post...

Anyway...to all Home Stretch readers near and far, I appreciate the time you take to read my thoughts and observations about life at/after 50...and I hope that here and there I have made you laugh...or think...or appreciate your own fleeting/misspent youth...

Well, I must get back to making a pasta salad...OK, it's a pre-packaged Suddenly Salad...at almost 51, one must make the most of the time one has left...

Next up, as promised: A few choice words of advice on dating, etiquette and more from Nancy Drew....

A Guide To Life I Can Finally RelateTo...

Maybe it was because she was blue-eyed, bold, and adventuresome, while I, though blue-eyed, was shy and a 'fraidy cat.

Or maybe it was because she had strawberry-blonde hair and my hair, though blonde, was more the color of dishwater.

And she was just so darn smart!

Whatever the reason, the moment I discovered my big sister's old Nancy Drew books when I was a gradeschooler, I was hooked.

I wanted to BE Nancy Drew.

And so I became her.

I spied on my neighbors. I looked for mysterious clues EVERYWHERE. I forced my friends to play Nancy Drew and make up mysteries (I, of course, always got to be Nancy). If I could have morphed my father, an average-looking, financially challenged office manager, into a devilishly handsome, successful lawyer like Nancy's dad, Carson Drew, believe me, I would have.

Sadly, both Nancy Drew and I lost our mothers at an early age: Nancy was but 3; I was almost but not quite 13.

(Nancy, of course, had that motherly housekeeper Hannah Gruen, to bake her cookies and make sure she didn't go too dangerously far in her sleuthing since Daddy Drew was so busy with his successful law practice. I, thankfully, had my big sister, Mary Susan, who never baked me cookies (that I recall) but she did keep me in line since Daddy Dearest spent most of his extracurricular time down at the local tap...but I digress.)

Anyway...my Nancy Drew fantasy kept my tender heart above water during some pretty troubled times back in my early youth. Plus she was just so much fun! I'd spend hours, I'd spend DAYS, lost in the pages of riveting tales like "The Ghost of Blackwood Hall" and "The Clue Of The Velvet Mask."

So you'll never guess what I bought last week at my most favorite hangout -- no, not Walgreens (that's my second favorite hangout) -- Barnes and Noble!

Why, "Nancy Drew's Guide to Life", by Jennifer Worick, of course. It's a loving -- and hilarious, really -- tribute to the young sleuth and her many stylish gumpump pearls of wisdom.

One peek at the inside cover sold me on it:

"Role model? Definitely. Genius? Oh, yeah. Goddess? Probably.

You couldn't have known it then, but all those hours spent reading about Nancy's adventures served you well...For every woman who remembers wishing she could tail a suspicious truck in Nancy smart blue roadster with the rest of the gang, this book is for you."

Ahhh...

I just never realized the practical tips and sound advice that hard-working girl detective imparted in every book! And the nifty thing about "Nancy Drew's Guide To Life"?

"Her sage counsel is accompanied by the classic covers and artwork from her yellow-spined books."

Some of my favorite Nancy Drew artwork, however, appeared in the older, blue-covered editions from the 1950s. But that's a moot point, really, in the whole scheme of things.

All in all, I'd have to say that it was Nancy Drew who nudged me to follow my nose for news and become a journalist. And my 25-plus years' experience as a newspaper reporter mirrors the career of a sleuth in many ways. Suffice to say that both Ms. Drew and I have encountered our fair share of cranky crooks...

I also always admired Nancy's relationship skills regarding beaus. She never let her feelings for that handsome college man Ned Nickerson consume her or distract her from sleuthing. Hell, I'm not sure she ever even let him kiss her...yet faithful to Nancy he remained, always showing up in time to escort her to a dance...what a great guy!

Hence, one of my favorite chapters: Dating: A Primer

Stay Tuned!

A Life Of Its Own

Amazing.

The Independent Eye continues to grow in number of hits each week despite the fact that there hasn't been a post to that blog since July 7 when Peggy shut 'er down and debuted her own Stuart news blog, The Voices of Stuart.

There is a wealth of past Stuart City Council history/ugly politics and other juicy stuff packed away in those Eye archives, to be sure.

Funny.

Now, from what I can glean from the stats, folks aren't spending alot of time at The Eye -- average visit length is, apparently,13 seconds. Yet they are, it appears, perusing pages for a minute or two-- perhaps waxing nostalgic? Perhaps just making sure Susan and I aren't going to suddenly reappear?

LOL.

(I'd like to add that Peggy is doing an EXCELLENT job of holding those Stuart city government skallywags' naughty little feet to the fire all on her own...keep goin', girl!)

Anyway...make of the stats what you will...I just find it amusing...

So, FYI, from this morning's Eye site meter report:

Visits
Total ....................... 36,224
Average per Day .................. 5
Average Visit Length .......... 0:13
This Week ....................... 38

Page Views
Total ....................... 52,593
Average per Day .................. 6
Average per Visit .............. 1.2
This Week ....................... 45

Whodathunk.

A LITTLE FRIDAY INSPIRATION

MAYA ANGELOU'S BEST POEM EVER

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
enough money within her control to move outand rent a place of her own,even if she never wants to or needs to...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...something perfect to wear if the employer,or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..a youth she's content to leave behind....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...one friend who always makes her laugh... and one who lets her cry...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems,and a recipe for a meal,that will make her guests feel honored...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...a feeling of control over her destiny...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...how to fall in love without losing herself...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...how to quit a job,break up with a lover,and confront a friend without;ruining the friendship...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...when to try harder... and WHEN TO WALK AWAY...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...that she can't change the length of her calves,the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...that her childhood may not have been perfect...but it's over...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..whom she can trust,whom she can't,and why she shouldn't take it personally...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...where to go...be it to her best friend's kitchen table...or a charming inn in the woods...when her soul needs soothing...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...what she can and can't accomplish in a day...a month...and a year...

There Oughtta Be A Law

So there I am at the Walgreen's checkout counter, and the clerk says, "Hey, I've got some free samples of some great face cream that I know you'll love...it really clears up acne...and leaves your skin feeling really soft."

At the same time, as she rings up my purchases (which includes a box of Super Duper Giant Overnight Maxi Pads With Jumbo Wings), the cash register cranks out a receipt that informs (lucky) me that I've won a free AARP membership...

Now wait a cotton' pickin' minute...

I'f I'm AARP eligible (which, damn it, I am...actually I'll be 51 in but a few months), how is it that I am STILL fighting acne and STILL having to buy flippin' Kotex?

(Of course, it's perimenopausal sebacious cysts combined with ingrown and infected chin whiskers so coarse you could sweep a kitchen floor, not pubescent pimples, that plague me...but I digress...)

It's just not fair.

Heavy sigh...

And they said zits disappear at 30...

Ha!

There oughtta be a law...

LADIES, IS THIS TRUE?

Hmm...

There could be something to this theory...

I think I may have dated such a guy back in the day...

And I do love Brad Pitt...

Just some fun food for thought this glorious Friday!

Have a good one!

Haaaaapy 27th Anniversary to Us!

(From the cartoon "The Flintstones"

To the music of the William Tell Overture

or The Lone Ranger's Theme)

Happy anniversary!

Happy anniversary!

Happy anniversary!

Haaaaapy anniversary!

Happy happy happy happy

Happy anniversary!

Happy happy happy happy

Happy anniversary!

Happy anniversary!

Happy anniversary!

Happy anniversary!

Haaaaapy anniversary!

Our "Daniel's First Day Of High School" Family Photo

TILL DEAF DO US PART?

So this Thursday my husband and I will observe/celebrate our 27th wedding anniversary.

Twenty-seven blissful, peaceful, stress-free, nary-a-cross word-spoken years of wildly romantic wedded harmony.

LOL...

(And they said I couldn't write fiction...)

Funny, isn't it... they make you promise before God and everyone else to love and cherish each other through thick and thin, for richer,for poorer, in good times and bad, yada, yada, yada, when all along anyone sitting out there in the pews (or garden, or chapel, or whatever) who's been married for more than seven years (or fewer, depending on the couple) knows full well that such a heady commitment is so much easier said than done.

Of course, when you are young and in love and the hormones are flowing, you can't be bothered by the seemingly inconsequential details of thick/thin/sickness/health/richer/poorer -- you just wanna tie the knot.

I mean, of course you take your vows seriously, but you really don't have a flipping clue what you are agreeing to when you say "for better, for worse."

Experience says, however, that THAT might be a good time to politely interrupt the vows and say to the minister, priest, justice of the peace or Elvis impersonator, "Define 'worse'."

You see, sometimes, "worse" in marriage doesn't always mean big, bad stuff. No, what I have discovered is that it's often the little, picky stuff that truly gets in the way of matrimonial bliss.

He NEVER picks up his socks.
She NEVER refills the empty toilet paper roll.
He snores too loud.
She smacks her lips when she chews her food.

And so forth and so on.

Sounds horribly petty, I know. But after more than 10 years, trust me, little annoying idiosyncracies like that can morph The Happy Couple into The Bickersons in a nano second.

Yes, growing old together, while it can be comforting, also serves up a whole plate of splendiferous marital issues you never dreamed were possible back in the day when you were standing wistfully and blissfully ignorant at the altar saying "I do."

For example, both John and I are losing our hearing -- John more so than me -- but nevertheless, we have made a pact that we must never try to talk to each other if one of us is in the other room. I mean, we're not exactly to the point of having to read each other's lips, but it creeps closer every day.

So, in an attempt to be romantic this a.m., I sauntered up to him and, directly into what I thought was his good ear, cooed, "This is the week of our anniversary!"

To which, with great puzzlement, he replied:

"We should delete our anniversary?"

Oy.

Oh, well.

With any luck, matching earhorns are cheaper than hearing aids.

THOUGHTS BEFORE CLEANING WHILE STILL IN MY PJs

One risk I never take...

CHANGE

LATE SUMMER
by Eric Rosenbloom
(copyright 2002)

The season’s maturity is summer’s wane,
A mellowing of early exuberance
Yet grandeur of a calm confidence,
The small sweet fruit on the raspberry cane.

The crickets save their energy for love calls,
And modestly brilliant flowers shine
Atop the rich-leaved patient stalks that line
The edges of fields and fences and old stalls.

The rodents never forget that summers end
And now in the shade of the august haze
They rest a while these satisfied yet anxious days
To wonder how this winter each will fend.

Settled in our cushions while gazing at the stars,
My hand in yours,
the crickets’ hum is ours.

JUST BREATHE

Hallelujah!

The heat wave is over! Over,I tell ya! At least for this a.m.

The windows are open! There's actually a breeze! A breeze!

I can breathe, I can blink, without sweating to death!

Just breathe! Breathe in the fresh, cool air!

I will survive!

HOW HE SPENT HIS SUMMER VACATION

Daniel's on-line film debut...

Most kids played baseball...my son made movies...

He usually makes World War II dramas...this is a little lighter fare...

Sometimes boys just wanna have fun, too...unstructured, creative, non-sports fun...

Best viewed with high speed...

THANKS, BUT NO THANKS

Just when I thought life was teetering on the edge of utter boredom in Groceryville...

This rather heavy set gal waltzes up to me at the cash register, pulls her shirt up a bit and says, smiling, "Wanna rub my belly for good luck? People like to rub my belly for good luck."

WHAT? What does she think she is, a flippin' genie?

"Um, gee, no...no,I really don't want to. But th-th-thanks just the same," I replied.

Get me outta here.

Now.

FIRST THE TAN, THEN THE NAILS

The manicured fingernails are always the last to go.

Broke a nail this a.m. -- so of course I had to get rid of the other nine -- the last remnants of my Cinci manicure. The last evidence of living in Pamperdom for a week. And I don't mean the disposable diapers...although I am sure Depends are just around the corner...

The tan started to fade immediately, of course, and I just can't quite justify going back to the tanning bed when fall is -- I hope -- just around the corner.

And, besides, who needs a tan if one is no longer required to don a bathing suit for lounging by a pool for four or five hours a day?

Vacation seems like a lifetime ago...

Did I mention the dog destroyed John's good shoes? And Daniel's cell phone charger? And my rather pricey and sassy smart-girl glasses?

And the beat goes on...

NOT GONNA WATCH IT

The name is boring, the plot sounds contrived.

TV is just not what it used to be...

I miss The Wonder Years...

OH, NO! NOT POLLY POCKETS!?!?

You know it's a dark day in our country when Polly, Barbie and Batman get yanked off the toy shelves...

Is anything safe anymore?

(Yeah...that's our girl Polly, right, during a happier, safer, more innocent time in her doll career.)

THAT 'JUST BRUSHED' FEELING

So I'm stocking the candy/gum shelves and I happen to glance at pack of Wrigley's Orbit White sugarfree gum...

"Proven to Remove Stains and Whiten Teeth...Removes 40% of Stains..."

Hmm...

A closer look at the fine print on the back of the pack tells you the REAL story, however...

"Chewing 2 pieces of Orbit White after eating and drinking helps: Remove stains and whiten teeth; Remove over 40% of stains in testing based on an 8-week clinical test."

Let's see...

Two pieces of Orbit White x 3 meals a day and say, 2 snacks w/beverage x 8 weeks = 10 pieces of gum a day x 7 days a week= 70 pieces of gum a week x 8 = 560 pieces of gum.

If there are 12 pieces of gum per pack, and it takes 560 pieces of gum to make a difference...560 divided by 12 = 46.66 packs of gum -- let's call it 47...

Figure 47 packs of gum at $1.05 each = $49.35...

My God, man, you could spend about the same amount of hard-earned cash for name-brand whitening strips and have whiter, brighter teeth in less than half the time...

Conclusion: Obviously, I have too much time on my hands at work if I have time to figure out this drivel...