The Christmas Shopper.

The Christmas Shopper.
A Poe-m by Sherry R.*

Once upon a morning dreary,
While I wakened, weak and bleary,
Over many a gift bought and wrapped from some vile store,
While I coffeed, nearly napping, suddenly I felt like slapping,
As if somehow my brain was slapping, trapping me to buy some more.
"Tis but some bauble" I quickly muttered, "slapping me to buy some more.
Only this and nothing more."

Deep into the morning peering, long I sat there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no shopper ever dared to dream before:
But the silence was unbroken and the coffee gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were the whispered, "Shop some more."
This I whispered to myself and murmured back."Shop some more."
Only this and nothing more.

Then 'Free Shipping' so enticing, and the bid of 'Low, Low Pricing'
Those chosen words now burned into my bosom's core.
No other words dare need be mentioned,
To grab my wallet and attention,
Till I scarcely only question, "who do I still need something for?"
"Is there someone?", I implore, as my resolve goes out the door.
One more dollar and nothing more.

But I soon discern my bill is climbing,
The thrill of gifts is past it's priming.
I now resolve to stop this madness I adore.
The siren voices must stay quiet, as they stalk me like a diet,
Beckoning and calling "Buy some more".
While my resolve is quickly sinking, back to the 'inter-web' I'm linking,
All the while my brain is thinking, "My cash has vastly flown the door with
something destined for a drawer, yet..."
One more gift and nothing more.

Then I ponder in lonely torment my frightful snare with my urge to repent,
Over gift temptations I have tried to bypass much before.
Is aid soon needed by a master to help avoid complete disaster,
And keep my downfall from occuring faster,
Than it has so swiftly done in days of yore?
"I will be wise, no compromise, I know that I am not a bargain whore.
I am the boss of my wayward brain and can handle all the strain to make my budget last and keep the score."
I will not faulter, vows the shopper. Vows the shopper...
"Nevermore."

It won't happen again, gone are checkbook and pen.
And the credit cards used on gifts so many times before.
The oath is no joke and it will not be broken,
As the season outspoken, begs, 'Spend some more!'
Now resolve is like a fire burning and "no more debt" is still a yearning as from my shopping ways I'm learning not to ring up gifts and treats galore.
The cash it helps to keep it real and curbs the staggering appeal of swiping the card in the oft offending store.
No more bills, debts and crying, no more statements for hiding, no more charges that I regularly ignore.
The snare must loosen up it's grip, as I bite hard upon my lip and as I constantly...defiantly quip...
"Nevermore."



I wrote the previous poe-m after a shopping day that completely overwhelmed and derailed me from the wonder of the season.
When despondent, I always think on Edgar Allan Poe and it is with considerable gratitude that I thank him for his masterful version of this poem, The Raven.

*Thats me!

Thanks for being here.


Ravens at Christmas



The Christmas Shopper Poem © 2014

Godzilla Nativity

Hello faithful readers.
Yes, I know the REAL meaning of Christmas and I adore it.
That is why I had a little fun today.
Think I will make Christmas cards with these pics.
Some possible sentiments include.....

IT Came upon a Midnight Clear....
or
Don't Rest ye Merry Gentlemen.....
or
O Come all ye Flameful....
or
Hark, the Feral Lizards Sing...
or
Wreck the Halls...

You get the idea.
Maybe you'll get one!!!

You're Welcome!


Godzilla Nativity


Godzilla Nativity


Godilla Nativity


Thanks for being here.

Understanding a Gift.

I have not discovered the Fountain of Youth or become a giant Redwood tree but including this year I have celebrated 245 Christmases with my husband.
In dog years that is.
We have had a dog or dogs most of our entire married life and consider it an honor for them to leave muddy paw prints all over the house be in our lives.
Every day is Christmas for a dog and dogs are easy to buy gifts for.
Give them one tennis ball or several, new or even badly used, and they celebrate with wild abandon, as if no one ever gave them anything else before.
Husbands are a bit more discerning and although they are very much like dogs, I have used up every thoughtful and creative gift idea in my universe during our 245 Christmases together.
I am totally not inspired to shop for my husband because if he wants something he usually just buys it himself.
So doesn't that means he has everything he wants!?!?
If I actually do think of something that would be a fun gift then it is usually about the same price as a new Lamborgini, and we all know bloggers have bags of expendable income generated by thousands of advertisers and loyal readers.
That is our reason for blogging.
Not because we are trying to type away our stress or perhaps psychoanalyze our day to day world, hoping it will in some small way, make a bit of sense.
Pppfffftttt. Whatever.
Back to husbands and dogs....
Both are laid back and easy going.
Curled up on a nice comfy chair or sofa, they both fall asleep in seconds and snore loudly.
Hmmm...Got enough chairs and sofas.
Both eat just about anything.
My husband however, does not just barf on the carpet if he eats too much.
Hmmmm...Got enough food.
They both leave their stuff everywhere because they are easily distracted........Squirrel.......
Hmmmmm...Got enough socks, hats, shoes and yard animals.
Both sleep ALL OVER the bed.
Arms and legs in every direction and both dogs and husbands will strangely try to snuggle even closer to you if you push an arm, leg or tail out of the way, so you just give up and try to go back to sleep in an unoccupied space about the size of a bandana.
Hmmmmmm...Got a bed and plenty of blankets.
Not to mention the amount of hair that is shed by husbands and dogs.
And husbands don't take kindly to a good lint rolling on their chest to gather the excess.
Hmmmmmmm...Got LOTS of lint rollers, vacuums and showers.
Both dogs and husbands are fun to be around and happy most all of the time with a "Glad I woke up, what are we gonna do now?" attitude every morning.
Hmmmmmmmm...Got enough coffee, mugs and projects around the house.
Husbands and dogs are just happy to be noticed and have a companion to play with, seems like to me.
Hmmmmmmmmmm...
So much in common..... except....
Dog gift = easy.
Husband gift = aaarrrggghhhh... or....
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.....
Maybe I'm thinking of this gift thing all wrong.
Maybe I can't think of the gift because ANY gift would be considered G R E A T.
Because for dogs and husbands most every day is like Christmas when you have the balls to celebrate with wild abandon.

Merry Christmas.

Thanks for being here.



The Husband.

Must Haves this Winter

With everyone making lists of the best gifts to give this year, please let me list a few things for your own self that I find help make any day a bit brighter and more-better-bearable.
Since I have been stomping this planet for so long, I have tried lots of stuff and can, with a large chunk of certainty say that these items are worth your hard earned cash.
You can trust me on this because I spent my own cash to get them. They are not promotional gifts.....dadgummit.

1)

Oil of Olay

Every woman human needs this stuff. While it doesn't remove wrinkles, it makes your skin feel so fresh and good you won't care.....as much. I went through 2 bottles of this stuff (and still counting) making my swollen, hurty broken wrist skin feel better. It is not heavy on your skin or greasy. Put a light coat on your face, after your morning wash and your smile will thank you. Heck, I use this lotion on some of my wood furniture to give it a nourished look.
Besides it smells nice.

2)

Harney and Sons Chamomile Tea Sachets

Tea. Gotta love it. Well you don't gotta but I do because while I was young and growing up my Mom's best friend was English so tea was always brewing in our house. Plus if we were sick, we were always given hot tea and saltine crackers. Now-a-days I find that the soothing taste of chamomile tea in the evenings is the best way to relax. Many, many brands and varieties have passed over my lips but the simplicity, natural sweetness, and heavenly aroma of Harney and Sons is all my palette requires. Their website could use some updating, but their teas are wonderful.
Besides the little sachets are adorable and make me feel fancy.

3)

Ester-C Vitamin C

All vitamin C's are not created equal. These are truly the best. They have a little bit of a smooth coating, so they don't taste powdery or get stuck on the way down. After I don't know how many years of taking them, they have never upset my stomach. They are kind of big so sometimes I cut them in half, because I hate taking pills and because 500mg is the smallest mg I have ever found. If you are feeling a little droopy or scratchy throated then take these to knock those sick germs back to last week.
Besides it will keep you from getting scurvy.

4)

Max Freeze

I had never heard of this stuff till my sister came to take care of me whilst I was broken bone recovering. She uses it on a bad knee. It is amazing. It goes on like a roll-on deoderant with only a slight odor in the beginning and no weird skin feel after. But it will reduce your aches and pains in just a few minutes like a prescription drug all the while being just about as all-natural as you can get. I will always have it in my medicine cabinet from now on.
Besides it is made in the U.S.A. - Like me !

5)

Grandma's Pure Soap

I got this soap because a) it had the word Grandma on it. b) it has lye in it and c) it is good for dry skin.
There are 3 ingredients and thats it. Lard, Water and Lye. I can picture a hardworking woman stirring a large bubbling, steaming pot of soap over an open fire with smooth, acne free skin. My 'lives far away' daughter who also loves it says she can really tell a difference in her complexion since she started using it. I use it because it really does not dry out your skin or leave any kind of residue. It also lasts a long time. Over a month with daily use for me. Now I'm no soap scientist, but it just feels better, cleans better, lathers better and rinses much better than grocery store bars or liquids, so my ancient, well used skin appreciates it
Besides it makes me feel like a strong pioneer woman. And soap is as close as I'm gonna get to that scenario.

Hope you find this list helpful in some tiny way, but these items seem important at any age and I thought you should know.

You're Welcome.


Thanks for being here.


Shopping Links:
1) Oil of Olay
2) Chamomile Tea
3) Ester C
4) Max Freeze
5) Grandma's Soap

The Happy Quest

I read the following post yesterday and thought that it spoke so well about one of the directions folks have chosen to cope with difficulties in life that I needed to share it with you.
Rachelle works in the very south of Georgia, is a great blog writer, loving family member and the best sister anyone could have......

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Going Off The Rails On a Crazy Train

Today there is no quest for happiness on my part. There is only the question why?!

This will not be one of my usual posts where I try to find humor in something or at least convey a situation that may not be humorous in a comical way. The voices in my head are screaming today and there is not enough white noise in the world to shut them up.

There was a shooting last night at FSU. Another shooting at a school; what the hell. What has transformed the minds of so many Americans that now the only answer to anyone’s pain or anger is to use a gun? I don’t understand it at all.

Every mass shooting I hear about makes me die a little inside as I wonder what has happened to our values and why we have gotten on some downward spiral into anarchy. Actually I know the answer, but it isn’t ‘politically correct’ so I will keep it to myself. Being ‘PC’ has also started to make me crazy because it has taken on a life of its own and it seems that no one is allowed to have an opinion anymore – unless it is also the opinion of whoever you are talking to. God forbid we ‘agree to disagree.’

This shooting hit me the hardest however because I live near FSU. It is just too close to home. I work at a small university that is about 30 minutes from FSU and my son goes to UGA. I am too close geographically to the latest incident and my son is too geographically far away from me. So, we are both at schools and they seem to be escalating to #1 on the hit list.

My job is to collect tuition and fees. I am the one that gets all the angry phone calls from students and parents telling me I am wrong – that they don’t owe money – when I am right. So many times, even when I try to explain it calmly, the situation escalates; on the phone and in person. I have had to tell people ‘that I will never be able to tell them what they want to hear’ – literally. That never ends well. I have had to tell people that I will not talk to them until they calm down or until they stop cursing. The venom can be spewed at me for as little as $10. It has happened. It seems that hardly anyone is able to think rationally anymore – or do math.

I honestly wonder every day if I will go home that night. I wonder will I have made the wrong person angry. You just never know anymore.

I also wonder every day about my son at UGA. Will he be in the wrong place at the wrong time when someone loses their mind and wants to kill innocent people for no other reason than they are ‘hurting?” How is that the answer to whatever pain they are in??!!

The news showed videos this morning that students had taken and streamed to their station. One was of a group of students huddling by the book shelves as the announcement played over the loud speaker about how there had been a shooting and what they were supposed to do. All I could think of during the video was what if Austin was one of those students? I am not the type of person that cries – ever. This made me cry.

It also made me think about when my daughter was at college and a tornado came through the town. Her call, from another person’s phone because she had to run to safety and she didn’t pick up her own phone, scared the living daylights out of me. She was fine, the town was not. But even so, I didn’t sleep for days. I still worry about her every day in Atlanta. Atlanta is a big, crazy city full of the same dangers.

But, I understand weather and what causes things like tornados (but it doesn’t mean I like them), conversely, this type of mentality – the shooting mentality – I DO NOT understand.

I grow tired of wondering everyday if this will be my last day on earth because someone else can’t cope. I am scared for the rest of my family. It seems no place is safe anymore and I hate that.

We are literally living the Ozzy Osbourne chorus of “Crazy Train”, and I am ready to get off.


Find more from The Happy Quest at  http://ifyouarehappyandyoudonotknowit.blogspot.com

Thanks for being here.....
And there.

"Vegetables for one, please."

Animals get us.
Not like hunter/prey get us.
They 'understand' us.
We don't understand them though and as humans we totally abuse our animal relationship.
But they are much more aware of whats going on around them than we give them credit for and probably just shake their animal heads at our pompous ways.
(Have you ever tried to catch your cat to give it it's medicine? They know. They totally know.)
They don't even speak human, well except for a few parrots and they understand much more than we give them credit for.
My dogs can not leave me alone now that I am 'broken'.
(I broke my wrist in a bumbling fall on concrete; Surgery, pins, cast, the works)
They sniff my arm and want to lay their heads on the cast.
They are constantly trying to lick my badly skinned up knee.
Its their way of playing doctor, I guess.
Which brings me to this.....
When I saw this sweet story, I cried.
Please check it out.


http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/11217366/Horse-brought-to-hospital-to-say-goodbye-to-its-dying-owner.html

I love animals or maybe I just need to double up my pain medicine today, but I so get this story.
Animals make life worth living.
Many people woud agree with me but could only acknowledge the truth of my statement as long it comes with fries and a drink.
I just can't do it.
"Vegetables for one, please."

Thanks for being here.

But have I mentioned....?

What a weekend it was.
Crazy, crazy.
There were Day of the Dead celebrations everywhere.
Halloween parties for young and old.
Trick or Treating in the streets.
Voodoo Fest in New Orleans
Friday the 13th even tried to disquise itself as the 31st this year, but since I'm mildly dyslexic I saw right through that one.
But have I mentioned....that I broke my wrist this weekend?
I wasn't even participating in any of the many festive activities when it happened, so it was just a totally unimaginative, awkward, embarassing, uncoordinated and mostly laughable display of bone breakage.



I stepped on a rock going down a small cement hill that knocked me off balance and this stumbling, flailing, hefty human picked up speed all the way to the bottom of that hill.
My wrist finally came to the rescue and stopped the 'once in motion always in motion' beast that I had become.
I survived the fall but my wrist was badly wounded and was taken to not 1 but 2 emergency rooms so it could tell the world how carelssly it had been treated.
After hours of paperwork, skin freezing, pain shots, waiting, Chinese finger traps (I am not making that up), ring cutting off, more waiting, x-rays, ice packs, bone twisting, stretching and putting back in place, cast making, more waiting and finally release from the house of horror hospital, my wrist and I arrived home relieved that we were free from probing doctors, interns and nurses.
WRONG.
Have I mentioned....that the follow-up Doctor tells me there is 50-50 chance my bone could 'slip' back out of place and I would need surgery.......
There was a sucking sound in the room as my will to live was temporarily removed.
I am already overwhelmed with how much I CAN'T do that the thought of doing even less sends me into a spiral of sofa laying, TV watching, book reading, phone game playing flurry of bone protecting non-activity.
Hey wait.
I said that like it's a bad thing.
Well it must be because now I'm feeling painful discomfort and laziness guilt.
This is like a bad dream that I can't wake up from.
But have I mentioned....that I AM awake and one handedly typing this post to authenticate the fact that it all really happened.
Really.

Thanks for being here.

Shy to the Nucleus.

Being shy is one of my 'things' and has been since I was an embryo. (I was too shy to even come out on birthing day, my mother was trying to push me into this world for 2 long, laboring days before I was born)
My parents though, were both outgoing, party throwing, neighbor chatting, involved in anything kind of people.
There were many times when I got scolded for hiding behind my parents or taking off to a secluded corner when my parents were being social.
"You're acting ridiculous" or "I do apologize, I'm sure she'll outgrow this" or "Get over here now and don't make me tell you again" were all things I heard repeatedly.
Yet I have never stopped being shy all the way into adulthood...or....now.
It is not a worry or a problem that I think about because I have been shy as long as I can recall and I am comfortable by myself.
Sometimes though, I must go out....in public.....where people are........
My husband who is NOT shy, generously purchased tickets to one of our favorite comedians as an anniversary gift.
Perfect. The funny man will be 1000 feet away, on a spotlit stage and we will be comfortably and silently squished next to strangers in the dark.
Totally awesome and mostly shy-proof until.......I got entirely too close to the funny man .
The most famous person I was ever close to was Santa Claus.
Now imagine a crying child being pushed close to Santa and said child is trying to turn and run back to the safety of anywhere else.
I was that child.
"Keep the presents, I am not talking to that guy".
That was my motto.
Well the previously mentioned comedian was also doing a book signing on his stand-up tour and we arrived early enough that there was hardly anyone in line for it.
So......we were able to get up close and personal with a famous person.
My brain shut off.
Completely shut off.
Instead of crying though, I was grinning like an idiot and couldn't even remember what my daughter's name was.
He was witty, friendly, adorable, signed my book and smiled back.
I took the book and bolted out of the room.
I don't recall if I even thanked him.
I sat down trembling, terrified and still grinning.
If I am shy around regular people, what was I thinking I could do around a famous one?
Without a working brain?!
Now I've become a traumatized shy adult.
"Keep the book, I am not talking to that guy".
That is my motto for the next book signing.
Did I say 'next' book signing?
Who am I kidding.
I mean 'any' book signing.

Thanks for being here.


I could have gotten closer, but I had to leave enough space for a quick getaway.


Funny. Even autograph funny.
(Amy is my daughter)

I swear, its not what you think......

If you are easily offended or detest foul language then just skip on to the next thing on your to-do list because this post is a tribute to master cussers.
It seems that I feel the need to acknowledge these curse word artists because they fill a descriptive vacancy in my vocabulary.
Though many claim to be master cussers, the ones I commend here are experts and can turn a phrase or sentence, full of obscenities, into a thing of eloquent beauty and take my breath away with their abilities.
They are to swear words what Bob Ross is to canvas.
I can not compete.
I can not even begin.
My relationship to foul language is not unlike a person in recovery and I have
been on the swear-'wagon' for decades.
I know my limits.
I can't say the stuff.
My vocabulary would quickly become profane and offensive in the least likely of places.
"That is the cutest &*@%$#% baby I ever saw".
That kind of thing.
So I must refrain from cursing at all.
I don't worry too much about wasting my unused allotment of dirty words because I willingly give the master cussers in this world my portion.
Sort of imaginary recyclable profanity that is sustainable and ethically managed.
Shall we begin....

The F#%*ling.
One of my master cuss virtuosos is my oldest daughter.
Don't ask me how, don't ask me why.
She learned it young and she learned it fast.
She did not learn it from her parents.
But when she is wound up or excited about something she can tell the story of an experience or
describe an event so appropriately, effortlessly and hysterically uncensored that even the Pope would be wiping away his tears of appreciation.
She has tried to quit or at least cut down (sadly there are no patches to end cussing) with no success, so she has had to embrace and master her skill.
Her abilities compare to a treasure at Sotheby's.

The F#%*ess.
My second master cuss champion is a well known blogger who also has the gift of retelling conversations and describing
events with profanity placed precisely and perfectly.
She also posts many pictures with expertly inserted expletives.
If I go for a week without reading one of her posts I find that there is no point to even having a computer.
She uses the f-word like a guru.
And the awesome thing about her is that I think she would possibly enjoy being called 'The F**kess' on some days.
Her talent is a skillful, exquisite and revered by her followers.

The F#%*er.
My third and final master cuss boss is known for and only needs one swear word in various forms to get his point across.
He uses the f-bomb with the skill and accuracy of a competitive marksman.
He can expertly use it like a Jedi when discussing snakes on aircraft or reading books about compelling children to go to sleep.
Since I don't know him personally I can only assume he uses his f-word to pay his utility bills or persuade politicians to get stuff done.
He is that capable.
His mastery is legendary.

Their artistry is profound.
Their gifts seem inspired.
They are clever, gifted, accomplished and more than occasionally, offensive.
But I will still adore them.
I will still keep my expletives quiet.
I swear.

Thanks for &x%$#@! being here.
Sorry---couldn't resist.

Thanks for being here.


P.S. You didn't hear it from me......

Also thanks to April, Jenny and Samuel.

Throwback Thursday

Hello,
I have a chicken on my head.
My mother gave these pictures to me recently and printed on the backs of each was "young Sherry and chicken".
Nothing unusual.
Except that it's on my head and chickens poop a lot!
I had raised this one from a tiny yellow chick (pic below) and have no idea what happened to it.
I would like to think that it won prizes and awards when it grew up (my sister was in FFA) but it probably was consumed by a neighbor.
A neighbor family ate our rabbits when my family went on a camping trip.
We know this because one neighbor told on the other neighbor.
My family had fish, cats, iguanas, rabbits, chickens and hungry neighbors.
I guess my mom took the picture while the chicken was still alive, or while I was still alive
(you never know what's on the neighbors menu).
Anyway, I don't remember poop or death or even the picture, but I do remember loving animals (more than my neighbors) and I'm glad someone captured the moment
(before they captured the chicken).
Maybe other folks began to miss pets too because after 'Bunnygate' the thieving neighbors moved out.
I hope they got pooped on.

Thanks for going back in time with me.

Pick a Peck of Perks

There do not seem to be a lot of perks for people my age.
At least they are not very obvious to me.
In my experience it seems like most businesses tuck perks away so you only get them by word of mouth or through lots of research.
But my husband and I got a great one this weekend at the county fair.
We got in for free!
We didn't even have to ask.
We just had to look the part.
You are probably thinking "Seriously? She's excited about that???? A discount to look at llamas, giant stuffed prize bananas, heart stopping carnival rides and kids covered in face paint?"
Well yes I'm excited, but as I shared earlier, it's because there are not a lot of other senior perks out there.

As soon as my husband and I came of age we joined a certain group that has a following with the older generation.
It costs precious money to belong but we thought of it as an investment with the hopes of finding out about all the endless and fabulous senior discounts.
When we got our first magazine, it seemed to us like a picture book....... compiled by Stephen King!
We saw terrifying items that would lead you to believe that lots of funky contraptions and doodads will help you age gracefully, all while you ponder yourself into an early grave worrying about how to afford these accessories of your future!
We had no idea that in our sunset years we would, basically, need a torture chamber to make the transition.
Special showers, freaky food supplements, folding beds, wrinkle-less clothes, peculiar shoes, odd lighting, insurance, hair treatments, gumball machines to dispense your meds (I made that one up) and countless other crapomatics,  all of them calling our name.
Not to mention the printed articles pointing out all the rip-offs and scams that we needed to avoid and be scared of.
We wanted perks, coupons and discounts so we could live life like we did when we were young, only living it just a smidge slower and a bit cheaper.
The sought after perks we had hoped for were very few and very far between.
We ended our membership after house of horrors magazine #3 showed up.
We can already frighten and unnerve ourselves by checking our retirement account balance or by being full monty naked in front of a mirror.
We wanted perks!!

The only other perk I ever got was at a grocery store when I bought  3 items and they said that I got a senior discount because it was Tuesday!
Yay ?!
I have been shopping at that store on a variety of days for years and was never told about this or ever saw a sign.
They most likely keep it on the down-low because they don't want a store full of seniors clogging up the aisles and asking for prunes.
I am guessing I got the perk this time because I dropped 1 of my 3 items as soon as I got to the register, my clothes were soaked from the rain outside, I just got off work, complete with name tag still on, looked exhausted, my wallet had been left in the car, I was starting to tear up, the cashier was patiently smiling at me and I was buying oatmeal, coffee and prunes. 
Just kidding....... I dropped 2 of my 3 items and the coffee can rolled right up to the cashiers foot.
Your guess is as good as mine why I got the discount that day.

Even online the pickings are slim.
And every perk that you do find qualifies at a different age minimum or lasts for a month, a week, a minute or already expired.
50, 55, 60, 62, 65, 70.... How old is a 'qualified' senior anymore?
Nobody seems to know.
I sure don't.

But the folks at the county fair do.
If you look old, then, "Come on in!"
That's their motto.
They know we still eat cotton candy and try to win goldfish.
They know we will come and bring our families and spend our money and tell everyone about getting in free.
They know that seniors will be amazed by the fun rides and wonder how in the world those people don't get nauseous or pee a little bit.
They get it.
I am grateful.

I'll be back next year too!




Jeplen's first county fair!
(the one in the middle)



Psycho ride my kids went on.
Yes, it swung back and forth and spun. Blarg. 
I had to sit down.


Thanks for being here.

Oh... BTW... My daughter won a goldfish!
Good times. 
Good times.

Did you see that ?

Growing older is so bizarre.
I can't begin to understand what my body is thinking or trying to tell me.
There is no way to anticipate its changes and I can't keep up with them either.
Trapped in it, there is no escape.
So I'll blog about it....

Once I got past my child bearing years, plucking my moustache hairs became a weekly necessity.
I know moustaches are the cute 'in' thing right now with jewelry and accessories, but trust me when I say that only the young people are buying that mess.
Once a woman begins to 'groom' her own mustache, any reminder of added facial hair will stay a million miles away.
It starts out....just being there.
Those very fine dark hairs on your upper lip that you get bleached, waxed or plucked with the hope that no one notices all the stragglers or the dadgum new ones that appear in between treatments!
But as you get older, some of those fine hairs turn into barbed wire and appear over night.
Criminitly.
No weekly treatments anymore, you have to study yourself daily, with tweezers, in the mirror, before going out in public.
Remember the scene in 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding" where the women are getting ready for the wedding and the little sister-in-law (who wants to feed lamb to a vegetarian) tweezes hair off the face of the mother of the bride, while they talk?
I need her in my life!
Now maybe it's only me, but when I am waxed, plucked, shaved, trimmed and showered, I feel like a Diva.
Beautiful, Healthy, Invincible and Fabulous.
So why isn't laser hair removal covered by insurance?
Why can't insurance companies actually ask women what kind of policy they need to live long and happy lives?
Instead, we get our mammary glands squeezed, smooshed and x-rayed with giant plastic machines.
We get our 'hoochies' exposed, poked and proded with cold metal instruments and giant q-tips.
I can tell you that when those insurance covered procedures are finished, I do not, in any any, feel like going out on the town so you can see me be beautiful, healthy, invincible and fabulous.
I'm just saying that if our frame of mind were "I'm hairless and spectacular", then maybe we wouldn't need the doctor so often.
Sort of like the 'apple a day' theory.

My body refuses to be my own, it is morphing-- willy nilly--- every day---- without my permission.
It has a mind of it's own and it thinks weird hairs sprouting up repeatedly in random places is the go to 'systems default' of its function.
A lot of times I don't even find these stupid hairs until they're 2 inches long and trying to form braids with each other.
Then I am left weeping and hoping that the people I have met recently have eyesight as bad as mine!
A little warning might be nice... O Brain of Mine.
I'm sure that one day there will be a Sasquatch sighting in the southern woods and you can be pretty confident that it was me.
Blame it on the insurance companies.
I'm just sayin'.

Thanks for being here.




Did you see that?