The Gift of Food

I notice that I have reached that age when people who either don't know me very well but still buy me Christmas gifts - or people that do know me well - give me the gift of food. I'll admit that I sent my parents a gift box of various food - or simulated food- products. I had run out of things to give them. They are both in their 80's and there is very little they want or need. But they still want to receive gifts. I settled on one of those "tower of boxes" with a large ribbon around them to remind people that they came from one source. Unfortunately, they arrived about 3 weeks before Christmas, since I wasn't the one mailing them.

A week before Christmas I asked my parents if they received the box, and they said they did. In fact, they told me, it has been sitting under the Christmas tree. I cautioned them that there may be things in those boxes that should be refrigerated but they said it was cool enough by the tree. Ba-bye food products - I hope they enjoyed looking at those cute little boxes for 3 weeks because I'm thinking that they weren't going to enjoy looking at the fuzzy little mold in them on Christmas morning. When I called them on Christmas, they did not mention the boxes at all.
I'm guessing it wasn't quite cold enough under that Christmas tree!

But it made me realize that I am now becoming that person who is starting to get food for Christmas. I believe I still have a few good years left. And, they wouldn't be too short changed to get me something with a lifetime warranty. This year, for the first time, mixed in with my presents of scarves, books and gadgets, I have under my tree a box of cheese and sausage products. I wonder if it should be put in my frig? No, I think it's cool enough to stay under the tree for a few more days.

My Life and the Poop Butt

I never thought my life would get to this point. I now spend an inordinate amount of time intently looking at my dog's butt for signs of activity. Now, I try to have a pretty active life myself, but that's part of the problem. My dog, Seymour loves to take walks. I swear that he has learned that the longer he holds off the "activity", the longer he will be allowed to leisurely walk the neighborhood, the side of the road, the parking lots and even take the furtive trips onto private property.

I used to enjoy looking at the flowers, trees, into neighbor's open windows and pretty much viewing everything higher than 6 inches from the ground. Now I focus most of my time on Seymour's butt. We seem to be at am impasse. I know that he has full control over his butt and he uses it to tease me. Most dog owners know about the poop butt phenomena. That little butt hole grows to a bit "O" when it is ready to do you know what. I get a little excited when I see that "O" but I try to do a happy dance inside my head so he doesn't notice. Once he senses that I realize what is about to happen, he puts that poop butt away faster than Clark Kent can change into Superman. How can he have that much control? I have to cross my legs when I hear the song "Singing in the Rain".

We have developed a dysfunctional walking routine. I take him to all of the places that will tempt him so much that he can no longer control himself - like the high weeds along the road, any area where another dog has been or his favorite - right beside my mailbox. He gets excited, expands that butt and even does his little squat dance in circles but then straightens up and continues walking with a smirk on his little snout. I've worn out 3 pairs of shoes in the last month while he has learned to dribble 3 drops of pee every few blocks - and can somehow hold is poop for days.

I appreciate that he has increased my walking to almost marathon distance, but sometimes I need to do things like oh, go to work or maybe even use the restroom myself. He doesn't take that into consideration at all. I'm trying to see the positive in this and am sure I'm not the only one with a butt-controlling dog. I see a popular children's book in my future - My Life and the Poop Butt, a story of a tired woman and her dog.

Fall Back - on my Time Pieces - Please!

It's that time of year when I realize I have too many clocks and not enough instruction manuals. The good news is that the big wall clock in my living room is now right, since I didn't have the ambition to "spring it forward". The not so good news is that I have a pile of clocks I do not know how to adjust. My eyes have been strained from trying to figure out the strange markings on my clocks and the tip of my index finger is noticeable flatter due to pressing every button on each friggin' clock hundred's of times to try to get that little hour to flash and light up. I need to know the time!

Just in my bedroom, I have 3 clocks - 2 digital alarms because I can't figure out how to set one but it plays my CD,s - and a travel clock that only needs a dial turned to set the time and alarm. Guess which 2 of the 3 are not set yet?

Because I'm a little anal about being late, I also put my solar atomic watch (that does not seem to believe that the time has indeed changed) and my wind up watch on my bedside table. When I woke up, I looked at the various time pieces to try to figure out what time it was, but I eventually gave up and dragged myself down to check my finally accurate living room wall clock. I could sleep on the couch to be close to something that has the right time, but then I wouldn't have an alarm. Or I could set my alarm clock 1 hour earlier - or is it one hour later?

Maybe those of us who are time adjustment challenged should just mail our clocks that seem to want to move to another time zone - to someone in that location. Now, would I send them to someone on Eastern time or Mountain time?

Doctors Favorite Patients

If you want your doctor to hurt his frontal lobe by rolling his eyeballs too far into his skull, just say "Dr. Oz says . . ." or "My friend's sister's friend said I probably have. . . ." My friends and I fall into that "Not My Favorite Patient" category.

When I was sick recently, in the course of 24 hours, I started trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I first diagnosed myself as having heartburn and went out to purchase a large package of antacids. When that didn't work, I remembered reading in People magazine about all of these stars doing colon cleanses and thought that might be my problem, so went back out and found one better - a whole body detox cleanser. Still no relief. Alka Seltzer seemed like the next best option and I was lucky to have found a neighborhood-sized box - on sale. Still no relief. Finally, my daughter told me that her husband told her that my symptoms sounded like his previous symptoms; I probably had appendicitis.

By day 2 of my symptoms, I decided to check with a professional - so I went online to check wikipedia. My symptoms were too general to choose one diagnosis. Feeling that I had at least eliminated many diagnoses - I decided to see if an emergency room doctor could figure it out. He could and after a week in the hospital, I came home to enough over-the-counter medicine that I now have plenty of things to give out on Halloween.

I'm not the only one who self-diagnoses. One woman finally headed to her doctor with the sound medical conclusion that her problem was that her liver hurt. Now, of all the various parts we have in our body, that was one I totally forgot about. Yes, you hear about people who drink too much having liver problems but I've never heard anyone complain that their liver hurt. And now I know why - the doctor said that there are no nerve endings in the liver so it couldn't "hurt". And he determined that it wasn't her liver, but her broken ribs that hurt. I guess it was in the vicinity.

I'm sure that the only saving grace for doctor's having to deal with people who self-diagnose is that it gives them things to talk about at cocktail parties and during surgery. I just hope they weren't laughing so hard that they dropped a small pointed medical tool into an open wound. That is the only thing I can come up with that could be causing the pain in my side.

Casual Dress Seems to Have its Limits

I have noticed that some people in my town are so chill that they are comfortable wearing their pajamas to the gas station - even going inside to get their large soda or coffee. I have never had the guts to do that but I have taken a baby step by walking my dog in my neighborhood in my PJs.

This weekend, I think I by-passed those PJ-wearing citizens. I was in a Pet Parade, dressed as a bottle of ketchup. I had the whole sha-bang, a large red bottle that covered me from neck almost to my ankles with a red squeeze-bottle hat that made me tall enough to be considered to play with the Spurs. I did have my 7 pound dog with me, dressed as a hot dog, but he wasn't much bigger than a jumbo hot dog, so bareley visable beside the ketchup hulk. The parade was a bit haphazard, with us walking down the sidewalk while people drove past and stared. There were a few other people dressed up but they were more socially appropriate in superman capes and fairy wings.

After the parade my dog and I were - dog tired - and had to drag ourselves the 6 blocks back to the car. This time, there were no other costumed animals - or people around, but it took me awhile to notice. I walked with my head drooping, making my ketchup bottle body look like it had been squeezed by Attila the Hun. My nozzle hat had the crowd parting like it was the Red Sea. Finally, I looked up to stares of people in cars and on the sidewalks who didn't know if they should laugh or run after me with their french fries.

I quickly took off my hat but there was no getting around the big red ketchup tube around my body. I started thinking that it might have been fun to have had the word STOP on me and just run into the street periodically. I might not have gotten respect as ketchup, but I think I would have gotten attention as a moving Stop Sign. I think my dog was reading my mind because he looked at me in disgust - or maybe pity - and quickly started dragging me toward the car.

PJ people - you have nothing on me. Try going to the gas station as a ketchup bottle and then we'll talk!

High School Reunion

I went to my ____ high school reunion. I won't say how many years but I will say that most everyone was retired - except a few of us who either enjoyed working or enjoyed money. What surprised me was that people either didn't remember me much or remembered me totally differently than I did. For example, I saw a friend from grade school who said "If someone asked me to say 20 things about what you would be, funny wouldn't be one of them." Geez, I've always cracked myself up.

I can remember honing my craft by doing nightly visits with my good friend to read the various special occasion cards in the "Humor" category in the drugstore. You know the ones that say "I couldn't decide whether to get you a car or a diamond ring for your Birthday - so I got you a card". That was funny back then. Now I wonder who was paid to write something that lame. I'm not saying I didn't buy that card - a few times - but still . . . .

Maybe that is where my love of humor started. Giggling and snorting while reading the cards aloud was one of my teen year pleasures. Soon I wanted to tell my own funny stories. It makes life a lot easier when every bump in the road of life experiences is made into a a hilarious tale.

"Yeah, I went to a conference with 2 different shoes on - and the worst part was that the heels were 2 different heights! I only noticed when I went to the ladies room and wondered why, when I walked, I heard click, shhhh, click, shhhh."

That's a funny story, my grade school friend. And I have more where that came from. I want a re-count.

My Dog Has Become - An Animal!

I should have expected it. It's like when my kids started kindergarden - something changed. Prior to K, they were sweet, thought I knew everything, and pretty much worshipped me - mainly for the rides I could give them to fun places, the toys I would purchase for them, and the snacks only I could make for them. Then came the big change! They walked into the K door an innocent child and came out a know-it-all, mom-knows-nothing, punk kid. I was in shock the first time that happened but by the time my second child started kindergarden, I was dreading, but expecting the change. Now I understand why parents want to home school.

The same thing is happening with my sweet little quiet, innocent dog/human, Seymour. It just took him a few extra days to make the change. He went into doggie daycare as a naive little dog and came out like an - animal! First, I noticed that his loyalty to me was waning - he looked forward to leaving me in the morning to be held in the arms of another woman. Then he went from a dog that wouldn't bark if someone knocked on the door to an animal that barked at tree stumps. But the worst thing is that he's starting to smell like a wet dog - all the time. He goes in to his daycare smelling of lavendar and comes out smelling of doggie poo and doggie breath, but with a smile plastered on his face.

He no longer wanted to sleep with me so I had to bribe him by lifting him into bed and massaging him until his knees and eyelids both dropped. He's not happy that he has lost control of his bedtime "attitude", but his need for a massage is a little more important than control. This gives me a flicker of hope that I can slowly get my little boy back and eventually make him forget he is an - animal. I couldn't save my kids from growing up and learning that I wasn't as smart as they are, but I think I have a chance with my dog, thanks to the fact that he'll never learn to drive, text or read self-help books. I just might get my boy back.

Baggers' Humor

The job as a grocery bagger isn't glam or high paying. Most people hardly notice them, unless they do something wrong. So they have to at least make their job entertaining - for themselves. Now that I realize that, I can appreciate- but still not like - their antics. Like when they put a bag of donuts on the counter in front of the customer, instead of in a bag - notice they don't ever look at you when they do that - probably because they couldn't hold back the laughter if they did.

I especially like how they put a loaf of bread in a bag by itself yet put four, three liter bottles of soda in another bag. When you go to pick up both bags, you feel one arm being pulled out of it's socket as it stretches toward the ground while the other arm is lifting something so light it causes you to lose your balance and look like someone put a cane around your neck and is quickly dragging you out of the store - sideways. I think the baggers like that move the best.

What about the baggers that stop to look at what you bought and then covertly stare at you. "Yes, I bought 3 large boxes of extra long maxi pads - but I'm doing a craft project." "Yes, that is a six-pack of fleet enemas, but they are for my neighbor". "Yes, I remember that I bought 2 jumbo bags of Halloween candy 2 days ago, and you commented on that then, also." "Yes, those are rat and roach traps - do you want to come over for dinner?" And why do I think I have to explain anything to those "paper or plastic" demons?


Seriously, if I didn't get so confused at the self-checkout stations, I would not put myself through that torment. Now, when I check out, I not only look at the length of the line, but also at who is doing the bagging. ("I can't go to that bagger. He saw me buy 4 Weight Watcher's Dinners, a bag of potato chips and a Boston Cream Pie - yesterday) I've even taken to wearing different hats and sunglasses, but those baggers must have to have photographic memory skills to be hired.

When my daughter was little, she went through a phase where she would not go out of the house with me unless she had a paper bag over her head - I think she was on to something! "Paper, please!"

At Least I'm Consistent

I don't get it. Just about every time I have to make a choice - I choose wrong. I know there are other people like me, especially in grocery stores. You scan the check-out lines to pick the shortest one or the one with people with the fewest groceries and find that "perfect" line - you think. Nope, you again chose the wrong line. But, there seems to always be someone else in the same line who comments that they too, end up choosing the line with people needing a price check, a personal check written, or a mental check. I wish I could discretely ask people in my line if they are check-out challenged, so I can make a less wrong choice. I could lie, to no one in particular "I am pretty good at choosing check out lines" and if someone comments, "Well, I'm glad I'm in your line", I can respond - to no one in particular - "Oh, I forgot to get . . ." and quickly leave that line. I just don't want to find myself looking like the Pied Piper with hapless shoppers following me to my check out line thinking I'm the chosen one.

So, I am now having to drive in traffic every day to a new job. For part of the trip, there are 3 lanes. Since I have had lots of time sitting in traffic, watching cars all around me whizzing by, I've done some mental calculations of which lane I should be in at what part of my trip. I usually give it two days of "study" before I make the "lane" committment. It seems that the left or right hand lanes move faster than the middle lane. So, I choose, say, the right lane - the faster, don't use it unless you are speeding lane - and traffic screeches to a halt moments after someone finally lets me in. I can not understand why the "fast" lane is at a dead stop when the other 2 lanes are breezing by. How can the right lane, where people are entering the freeway, be traffic - free while I sit at a stand still entertaining myself by trying to name all 50 States - and capitals - and flowers. I'm thinking of getting a bumper sticker that says "Honk if you always choose the wrong lane" so I have a bit of help here.

Is George Burns my guardian angel? I can just see him laughing so hard, he's choking on his cigar and thanking his lucky stars he was matched with me. I do believe the voice in my head, helping me to make choices is a raspy male voice - I'm just saying.

Top Chef and Other Cooking Shows

I get a lot of pleasure watching cooking shows. I haven't figured out why because I'm not much of a cook, nor do I want to be. But when I do want to cook, I have about 50 different cook books to make me feel inadequate. What I find interesting is that in all of these cooking shows, no one uses a recipe! How is that possible? Even when I make something from memory, like a smoothie, I forget to put something in it. After I taste it, I'll remember that I should have added a banana or if I have to eat it with a spoon and chisel, I will remember that I need to add more liquid next time.

These people make fancy dishes like homemade pasta and stuffed frog legs - recipe free! And I don't see any Sarah Palin-like writing on their hands, either. I really am impressed with their memories. I can't even tell you the name of a movie I saw last week, let alone the ingredients in Baba Ghanoush. I have no idea what that is, but I like saying it.

I think I might do better on a show liked "Chopped". That is where 4 chefs are given a number of strange ingredients in a basket and they have to make an appetizer, main course or dessert. None really know what they are going to make so they pretty much wing it. I can do that. I can grab a bunch of ingredients, toss them together, cook them, throw some sauce on top and give it to the judges to taste. I wouldn't even think of trying my food myself. It might be fun to even be the first one eliminated just to see some judges have to eat what I threw together. That would be priceless - and prizeless!

Maybe I'm enamoured with these shows because even experienced chefs all get kicked off and there is only one winner. It makes me feel that I'm in the majority - the the bottom majority, but that's good enough. Food is for eating - not cooking!

What Not to Say to People in the Hospital

After a long week in the hospital, I recommend that the following are not said to a sick person:

1. "It's a good thing you got your passport picture done before you got sick."

2. "Can I bring you anything, like maybe some mascara?"

3. "You're going to lose lots of weight" (Thanks for the prediction - NOT!)

4. "My cousin had all of their colon removed" (Sorry I lost that competition, I'll try harder next time)

5. The response from the Nurse Aide after I said I thought the fluids might be going in too quickly since I had to drag myself to the restroom every 45 min - "Girl, that reminds me, I haven't gone at all. I totally forgot; it's not good to hold it in." (Shouldn't this be about me??)

6. Just prior to surgery I was told "We'll need to collect a deposit of $700. We can take cash, check or credit card". Gee, I'm sorry, I must have left those things in my other backless, buttless gown.

7. "Why didn't you go to the emergency room sooner?"

8. From the nurse "I haven't done this before. This is something the doctor usually does."

9. "We'll just try to find another vein."

10. "Don't worry, I'm not sick, something just must have gone down the wrong way."
This said while the nurse is coughing while looking for a good vein.

I'm not sure if it is just me or if this is a typical hospital experience. Luckily I came out with my funny bone still intact.

City Life vs Small Town Living

I talked with a friend of mine tonight. We were trying to find a time we can get together. He lives in the big city - I don't. Our conversation went like this.

Him: "Let's get together soon. I checked our calendar and we can't get together Saturday night because we're going to our friend (the author's) wine tasting party. What about Saturday afternoon?"

Me: "Can't do it - I'm going to a road opening"

Him: (laughing as a big city dude would) "You can't go because you're doing what?

Me: "Going to a road opening. Before they open the road, they're going to have a party with live music and games and things. I've never been to a road opening, so I want to go." What about Sunday evening?

Him: "No, we have an art exhibit we're going to. We were invited by the President of the Art League personally. What about Sunday before noon?

Me: "That won't work. The new grocery store is opening and I want to be there early to get the freebies they'll be handing out and to try out the different foods they'll have out to taste. This is the first new grocery store within 15 miles of my house, so I want to check it out." What about Tuesday evening, after work?

Him: "I'll check but I think we might have to go to the book signing that our author friend will be doing. What about Thursday evening?

Me: "That's $1.50 beer night here and I always go with some friends. I hate to miss that. How about sometime next month?"

Him: "We'll check our calendar. Let's get together soon".

I hated to tell him that next month we have our Duck races, flea market, first run movie at our walk-in outdoor theater, 1/2 price day at the thrift store and rodeo. Small town life may be lacking in some areas but we make up for it in "you're doing what?" events. I sure hope we can find some time to get to the big city.

Team Jacob or Team Edward?

OK, so I'm old enough to be their mother - who waited to have children until it was almost too late - but I can still admire their, uh, acting.

I just got back from seeing the 3rd movie in the Twilight series, "Eclipse" and I have to say that my loyalties are changing. The first 2 moves, it was Team Edward, all the way. He's the brooding, tall, thin-lipped, James Dean-like guy. For those of you who don't remember James Dean - Google him and you'll see what I mean. Edward is the love-struck Vampire who can't get enough of Bella - not her blood, but her, well I don't know what he sees in her really. She's moody, mumbles, and I don't think she's changed her jeans through 3 movies.

Anyway, after tonight, I am now Team Jacob. Yes, part of it has to do with the fact that he spent lots of movie time without his shirt - but he had his muscles to keep him - and me - warm. By the way, he's 18 now so it's legal to look at him. He even went shirtless in the snow. He was also strong because he carried Bella through the woods, up hills and across the frozen tundra and was still able to say his lines without breathing heavily.

Edward has been known to carry Bella on his back as he flew through the woods, but I don't think that counts as strong. He's not human - vampire, remember - so he can do non-human things pretty well. He's very nice looking but is a skinny little thing. If he was human, Bella would have had to have lost at least 15 pounds before he could have attempted to pick her up. And no way could he have climbed a hill without dropping her - forget talking and walking - no way. Sorry Charlie.

Now, in spite of my complaints, I still like Edward. He seems to be the better sweet-talker and kisser of the two, so that gives him a few more points. I understand that there are 2 more sequels in the works so I could change my mind again.

But tonight, Jacob's chest, errr acting, wins my vote.

Parade-mania

We love going to the parades in our little town. It's not that they have wildly decorated floats or lots of marching bands, but they do have - Candy! A car, float or even person walking in the parade will get hoots and applause if they throw candy!

I was very happy when my grandson was born a couple of years ago because it looks so much better grabbing the candy off of the streets and from slow-moving children, if you have a baby in your arms. Pointing to the child and to their mouth makes everyone think the candy is for them. OK, maybe not, but they can't help but smile and throw candy my way when I hold up that chubby little angel.

This year he was old enough to go after his own (and our) candy and he was very skilled at it. He would run out quickly, grab a few pieces, rush back to his bucket (which happened to be a 5 gallon can) and then head back for more. If someone in the parade passed without throwing out the desired sweets, he would put his hands out to his sides and with a puckered lip say "Where's the candy?"

It is not as if any of us really wanted all of that candy - except for the Tootsie Rolls, it was more the challenge of getting the most we could get. If the candy was exceptional, one of the adults would almost tackle someone else's child to grab it while apologizing for the need to get a piece of my grandson's "favorite" candy. Oh the web we weave - when it comes to candy.

This year we heard there was an ordnance against throwing beads or candy (which no one adhered to thank goodness) so one float decided to follow the letter of the law - and throw little rocks. We of course, had to pick those up, also. I think that if someone dropped their trash, we would all be scurrying to get a piece.

We do pay our respect to each and every person, vehicle, animal and float in the parade by clapping, because without them, there would be no candy.

Camping with the Jones

I just got back from a camping trip and noticed that I am not keeping up with the Jones. I'm relatively new at this and am happy that I have a microwave and an A/C, but now I see just how inadequate of a camper I am.

For example, people bring outdoor fans and it looks like one tries to outdo the others. Some people had a regular box fan plugged in outside and used it while they sat outdoors. But the "Jones" had the wind tunnel shop fan that is so big, I'm sure they have to leave one of their children at home to make room for it. I, luckily had a very nice hand fan that I waved around my dripping face as I passed the trendsetters.

Another biggie is the golf cart. Now, why one needs it to go around a level, not very large campground is beyond me, but then I already mentioned that I am an inadequate camper. You see big ladies, macho men and little girls maneuvering them around the campsites. And I know one of the reasons they use them - to check out other people's campers and outdoor decorations.

Speaking of outdoor decorations - people bring signs with their names on them and plant them in front of their campers as if they have moved in. It's like they are expecting the postal service to show up. They also string lights, put up flags, and even have color-coded chairs and table cloths. I, on the other hand, pull out one old folding chair and use my picnic table to dry my swim suit and towel. The most festive I am is when I turn on my outside light (which I didn't know I had for months). I was thinking of getting a red bulb, but decided it might send the wrong message.

Although people are polite to me, I have nothing to offer in ways of innovative decorations. I actually bought one string of white lights but realized that I don't have an awning to string them on. I also don't have an outdoor place to plug them in. So, they are sitting neatly in their original box just in case someone (with an outdoor receptacle) needs to borrow them.

I also realized that size does matter - in RVs at least. I usually have the smallest camper in the grounds. Everyone has large RVs with slide outs, their own TV satellite, a car or golf cart towing behind it and of course, more decorations than I put up at Christmas.

I try not to let it bother me. I'm perfectly happy in my 19 foot camper van with no TV, no awning, no decorations or no golf cart. Really, I am happy. I would just like to have one small thing that no one else has thought of. Like life-sized cutouts of the Twilight kids, or a small but noticeable cotton candy machine. Or both! But then I'd probably have to leave my dog Seymour - and my microwave - at home. I still might consider it.

Who Trumps What in a Pedestrian Zone

As I was trying to maneuver my way across the parking lot from WalMart to my car recently, I almost got clipped by an old woman with a Handicapped Pass on her car. I'm not sure if she didn't see me - although I think it would be a little difficult to miss a woman in bright yellow pushing a shopping cart - or she knew something that I didn't.

Although I was in the pedestrian walkway and I saw a "Yield" sign facing traffic, this woman acted as if that sign was just another pretty shape that was in her way - as was I. (Not necessarily the pretty shape part, though) So, did her Handicapped Pass trump my "Yield" sign? Someone needs to explain the rules to me. What trumps what?

If a person in an electric wheel chair is chugging down the parking lot toward the pedestrian walkway, do they trump the pedestrian? Are they a pedestrian or a vehicle? Should I bring my cart to a screeching halt and yield to the wheel chair or do I have a free pass in the cross walk?

What if the car with the Handicapped Pass is coming to the pedestrian area and that person in the wheel chair is crossing, who trumps whom?

Who has the right of way if a woman with a baby in her cart is on the road heading to the pedestrian area and I am in my allotted cross walk, who stops? Where do I fit in? Do I ever trump anyone when I am trying to cross the parking lot or do I have to shop after the senior citizens and babies are in bed?

I think the "Yield" sign needs to include further clarification.

"Pedestrians without children and with the ability to walk on their own, cross at your own risk"

Record Holders Beware

When I was young, I really wanted to be in the Guinness Book of World Records. I read through one the books to see which record I could break. I decided that I should pick something not too physical, but that would make a statement. I went for "the world's longest paper chain". I don't remember how long the record was back then but when my chain was almost long enough to circle my house, I stopped. There were 2 reasons for stopping - first, my fingers were hurting from cutting and taping each circle - and second, I didn't have money for any more construction paper. And seriously, where would I store it? As a little kid, I had to share my room with my sister and also share the closet. I don't think my sister would have been happy if I had taken her clothes out of the closet so I could use her side for my paper chain storage.

I just looked up the latest information on the current longest paper chain - and it was set in 2005 at 54.33 miles! I want to know whose mother paid for all of that construction paper?

The reason I was thinking about Records today was that I was attempting to paint an area in my house and I think I'm right up there as the World's Worst Painter. I'll need to see if that Record can be added to the revised edition.

All I wanted to do was paint a small area around some windows and wood trim. First I tried to paint without taping - two brush strokes and 10 paper towels later, I decided to tape. It didn't really make much of a difference because my brush seemed to repel paint and no matter how gently I lowered into the bucket and wiped the excess on the side of the can, as soon as I brought the paintbrush to the wall, globs of paint splattered like saliva from a St Bernard. I think that the manufacturer of my paint brush are the same evil people who make the useless hand dryers in restrooms. No one comes out of the restroom with dry hands unless they either don't wash their hands (and I don't want to think about that) or they end up drying their hands on their clothes. I digress -

When I finally got paint to stick to the small overhang over the window, and I leaned down to paint the lower portion (I know, I know, paint low to high but I am going for the World's Worst, remember), a big dollop as thick as Elmer's Glue fell on my head. As I reached up to feel where it landed, I stepped in another puddle of paint and carried it around the floor on my shoe. I grabbed more paper towels but my clean up attempt was more of a "spread out" endeavor. Did I accidentally buy those liquid-repelling paper towels, also?

An hour later, I was covered in paint, the floor was spackled white, the paint brush looked almost new except for the handle part that did hold paint, and the wall was still virgin plaster.

I could have gotten upset but instead tried to make it into a positive experience. If Guinness doesn't have a category for me, I'm going to recommend that they add it. I might finally be in the Record book and I won't even have to ask my mother for more construction paper money.

Test for Dementia

Just about every day, my brain is tested for dementia, and so far it seems to be passing. My test starts when I have my daily conversation with a woman I know. She's very sweet and likable but keeping up with her, conversational-wise is like making my brain do 100 sit-ups. I know in the long run, my synapses will be healthier so I work hard to keep up.

Here is a sample of the conversation:

"So, Jane called me and said that Sally is back in the hospital and then she fell and no one found her."

"Who, Sally?"

"No, Jane's other sister, Nell."

"And then, girl, do you know what happened? They put her on an IV for 24 hours."

"Who, Sally or Nell?"

"No, Jane."

"Then he just kept trying to call me and I knew it was him so I didn't answer. He's got that problem that he just won't deal with."

"Who tried to call you?"

"Jim, girl."

And no, I had no idea what kind of "problem" he had but I assumed that she thought I knew so I just let it pass. My brain was reaching it's limit.

I don't know if some people's brains are going faster than their mouths or if they expect me to be able to fill in the blanks on my own. I am so alert during our conversations that if someone did a brain scan on me, 95% of my brain would be lit up. The other 5% would be saying "What the heck is she talking about?"

Since I haven't been doing my Sudoku puzzles in months, I consider these conversations an excellent substitution.

I just wish I knew Jim's problem!

Stymied by a Packet of Seeds - Again!

I have planted a garden the majority of the years I've been - or pretended to be - an adult. I have successfully planted everything from asparagus to zucchini. But for the past 2 years I've succumbed to a tiny bag of seeds that sound great but cause me sleepless nights and an upset stomach. Those evil seeds are called - Spring Mix.

I know what Spring Mix looks like in a plastic container in the grocery store. I love the variety of salad leaves I munch on as I feel myself getting healthier. Why spend big bucks on those buckets when I can grow my own in my pesticide free garden? I found a packet of seeds and planted them in the row next to my tomatoes. Perfect combination - grab some "mix" and some tomatoes and dinner is served!

Soon the seeds started sprouting and I had to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth as I showered the plants with water. Then I saw dreaded weeds also sprouting. I could no longer tell the Spring Mix from the weed mix, except for some leaves that looked like spinach. The rest were a mystery to me. I did get the courage to pick a bunch of "mix" and make a salad but I couldn't help but feel that it didn't taste as good as the grocery store variety did. I had no idea which were edible and which might be potential poison to me. I decided that it wasn't worth taking the risk and just let whatever was growing, continue to grow, but not be eaten. I even went back to the grocery store to get more Spring Mix and took it to my garden trying to match up the leaves. Too many were similar but I didn't feel that the matches were precise enough to eat.

This year, I bought a kit of containers and seeds. The seeds consisted of tomatoes, yellow beans and - Spring Mix! What is with seed packagers? Do they just find a bunch of seeds that didn't make it into other packages and dump them together? Is this a way to add humor to an otherwise dull seed-filled work day?

I decided that the only way to grow Spring Mix was to grow it in a large container. Then everything that comes up in the container should be edible. Wrong! I realized that weed seeds seem to fly through the air and land where ever they darn well please. And if they want to land in the Spring Mix container, so be it. So, once again I recognize a spinach like leaf (is it really spinach?) The rest is a mystery. I do recognize one weed since it covers most of my yard but some of the other things look a bit like tomato plants. If they are tomato plants, are the leaves of the plant edible? Once again, I am letting what ever wants to grow in my Spring Mix container enjoy my tender loving care until they die - uneaten.

I have promised myself that no matter what the incentive, next year's garden will only include heads of lettuce - not as healthy but easily recognizable. Fool me once, OK twice - and whoever laughs last will be me.

95% Male Black Lab

I saw this title under "Pets" on craigslist and it started me thinking - always an interesting experience. So, is the dog 95% male, and if so, is the other 5% his feminine, sensitive side?

What if we were categorized that way?

"Oh yes, my husband is 85% male. The other 15% likes to dress in my clothes."

"Looking for love - wanted a 90% female; the other 10% should be able to do home repairs and have own tools".


I could see people filling out applications where instead of checking "male" or "female", putting percentages in each box.

Name: Lee Lost
Sex: Male: 50% Female: 50%

I'm kinda loving this idea. I probably range from 80% to 99% female, depending on the day and the situation. People might want to know ahead of time so they can stay away from me when I'm in that 80% range. So, instead of asking people "How are you today?", maybe we should be asking "What's you percentage today?"

If I knew a male friend was only 75% male one day, I'd probably be comfortable asking him to watch "America's Next Top Model" or "Say Yes to the Dress" with me.

If my female friend was 100% female that day, I would forego the trip to Home Depot with her and instead enjoy an afternoon of chocolates and "When Harry Met Sally".

Life could become a heck of a lot easier with that information.

Life Lessons From My Dog

Without saying a word, Seymour my 7 pound Chihuahua, has taught me how to live life to the fullest.

1. Show your love to the person you live with every day. Seymour is genuinely happy to see me wake up every morning. He shows me that by looking me in the eyes and licking me, then rolling over on his back to allow me to enjoy the feel of his tummy. The longer I rub his tummy, the more he seems to love me.

2. Be persistent in working toward your goals. When Seymour wants to take a walk, he first jumps on me and stares in my eyes. If that doesn't work, he patiently sits on my chest with his tail wagging slowly - waiting. Finally if I show any signs of movement, he jumps up, wags his whole body and does his "happy pant". By then, I can't resist helping him to reach his goal. I grab the leash and we happily (he mostly) head towards the door.

3. Be patient and realize that no matter how much you wish otherwise, some things just take time. Seymour teaches me this almost every day on our walks. He seems to have a "poop ritual" that has to occur before the "outcome" is met. Through the minutes of circling, squatting, changing positions, squatting again, circling again, and finally finding the exact spot, he gets to his "outcome". He never shows impatience or signs of stress no matter how long it takes. Sometimes perfection just takes time.

4. Don't settle for less than you desire. Seymour has shown me that if I really want something, I need to accept nothing less. For example, he will only eat chicken tenders as a treat. He is often offered doggie biscuits, meat flavored bones or fake bacon bits. He will politely sniff them and then walk away. He's not obnoxious about it, he just shows that he has standards.

5. Be friendly to everyone. Seymour has taught me that it takes little effort to smile, wag you tail and get close enough to people to allow them to pet you. It only takes a few minutes and often makes that person's day. And it feels good. A win-win situation.

6. Take time to relax every day. Seymour plays hard, walks hard and eats - OK, but in between he finds time to take a nap - or multiple naps. I swear he doesn't look a day over three - and he looks well rested.

7. Stand your ground. If Seymour doesn't want to do something he hides in his crate or under the bed. No amount of bribing or sweet talking will make him change his mind. If I have a "gut feeling" about something, Seymour has taught me to follow it and it's usually the right decision. Of course he has missed out on some scrumptious bacon pieces while hiding, but he knows they will be offered again - on his time frame.

If he had opposing thumbs, he could write a best selling self-help book.

The Amazing Race - Old Folks Style

I am addicted to "The Amazing Race" and have dreamed about participating in it. As much as I would like to believe that I could get through a few of the legs of the race, I think I need a more "age-appropriate" race.

I've devised a Race for us older, but don't think we're old, folks that still enjoy a challenge.

Leg 1 - Drink 1 quart of water and run 2 blocks to a locked restroom - find the correct key to unlock the door and then find the stall that is in working order and use it. If you dribble anywhere along the way, you must start over. The last person to arrive may be eliminated or may be given Depends to use during the next leg of the race.

Leg 2 - Roadblock - only one person can do this. Look in the refrigerator and pantry to find 10 picture of items that you need to buy at the grocery store. Without writing them down, run 2 blocks to the store while wearing an ipod playing "Born to be Wild". Purchase all 10 items and take them back to the house. Replace each picture with the item you purchased. If you forget an item or items, you must go back and get them - again wearing your ipod. If you need to make more than 3 trips, you may be eliminated and sent to cognitive therapy.

Leg 3 - Drive your car 5 miles behind senior citizens going to a discounted early lunch buffet. You have 10 minutes to get to the location on your map. You are not allowed to curse at the other drivers. Your blood pressure must be in the normal range when you reach your destination or you may be eliminated - or taken to the emergency room.

Leg 4 - Learn the moves to Beyonce's "Put a Ring On It" and do the dance for a preschool class. If they feel that you did it right, they will give you your next clue. You are not allowed to argue with the preschoolers - they know the moves.

Leg 5 - Set a VCR to record a "season pass" to two shows, "Real World" and "Keeping Up With The Kardashians", then re-set the clock on a sports watch to Day Light Savings Time. When you do these correctly, make your way to the finish line at Happy Trails Nursing Home. The first to arrive will receive one year of free care at the nursing home and 52 coupons for the buffet special down the street. Good Luck!

Now I just need to know - Where do I sign up?

Looking for Older Inspiration

There are many inspirational people around like Lance Armstrong and Michael Dell but as I get older, I need to feel that there is still time for me to excel in something. I needed to find older people who could inspire me. Here's who I've found:

1. Winifred Prestell - Started power lifting at age 60 and at 68 set the world record for her age group by bench pressing 176.2 lbs. I was inspired by her as I was hauling, breathlessly, my 2 cu ft of potting soil from my car to the back yard. I only had to put it down once.

2. Buster Martin - oldest employee at 102 (thanks to poor retirement funds, I think I might beat that record) and oldest marathon runner. I was inspired by him as I decided to walk my dog twice around the block instead of once.

3. Grandma Moses - didn't start painting until she was 76 and only did that because her arthritis made it hard for her to do her embroidery. I was inspired by her when I decided to taking painting lessons within the next 10 years, but I bought my supplies, just in case. I mean, I read about people who had strokes or head injuries and suddenly started speaking a foreign language. I could suddently know how to paint. Stranger things have happened.

4. Ron Cunningham - was the oldest escapologist known for eating light bulbs and removing a straitjacket while hanging upside down with his pants on fire. I was inspired by him when I got my arms stuck in a too tight pull-over shirt. No, my pants weren't on fire but my face was turning red and I was get light headed from too little oxygen getting through the pullover covering my mouth and nose. With determination and Ron's inspiration, I escaped from my shirt.

5. Olive Riley - worlds oldest blogger. She was blogging until she was 107 and then complained of a bad cough; two weeks later she died. I'm not sure I can make it to 107 and still remember where my computer - or mind is - but I'm working on this record.

I thank them all for their inspiration. I'm ready to work on becoming my own inspiration - after my nap.

What's Up - On my Head?

I came up with another brilliant idea while driving recently. This seems to be where I come up with most of my ideas. Well, sometimes I come up excellent, innovative ideas in bed and know I'll remember them when I get up in the morning - and I do remember that I had a great idea, just not what it was.

I enjoy camping but it seems that by day 2, I look like I should be pushing a shopping cart with my tent in it. By day 3, I look like I rolled in mud and let it dry on my head. I don't understand why my hair does this to me? It's like it's telling me it doesn't like to travel any further than the local Walmart.

Instead of spending time and money on hair products that may still cause people to cross the street when I'm walking toward them, I came up with a brilliant idea - in my car - in case you weren't paying attention.

I would get a wig. My natural hair could protest all it wanted within the confines of a perky little "do" sitting on top of it. Being cost conscious, I started looking for human hair wigs online. I found once called a Mommy wig that looked pretty bad in the picture but the reviews were all glowing. They would say "This wig looks much better in real life than in the online picture. I get lots of compliments when I wear it." That sounded promising to me and for less than $40, including shipping and handling, I decided that this human hair wig sounded perfect for my needs.

I did wonder a little why all of the models wearing the wig were women of color and I questioned if the Janet Collection could possibly have anything to do with Janet Jackson, but it was only for camping, so I proceeded to fill out the order form. There were 2 choices of color, black and an auburn. I decided to go with auburn.

When my package arrived, I noticed that the hair color could better be described as berry red - and berry, berry red in the sunlight. I tried it on and I looked like Conan O'Brien - nice full head of hair, but short and very wavy. The directions said that the curls would loosen if you just sprayed the wig with water. Looking around, I saw no sign of an empty spray bottle - no luck there. I then ran the water in my bathroom sink into my cupped hands and tossed the hand puddle of water on my head. I still had tight curls. Finally I filled a glass with water and poured it on my head while combing my natural hair wig - curls stayed put. If this was indeed a wig made from hair from women of color I started to think that I may not be able to straighten it.

So, I decided to focus on figuring out how to change the hair color to tone it down a bit. Since it's natural hair, it seemed reasonable that hair dye should work. I bought some light brown dye and rubbed it into the wig. My natural hair wig appeared to be water repellent. I still wasn't going to give up on my brilliant idea. I just thought that if I was camping and people saw me go into my camper with medium length brown hair and saw me come out in the morning with a full head of curly, short red hair, it might look a bit odd. And I really hate to look odd.

Not being one to give up on an idea that easily, I knew I had 2 choices. I could either cut, curl and dye my hair - or return the wig.

I just got back from purchasing a home perm kit and vibrant red hair color.

I Am Edible

As I get older, I worry about what would happen to my dog Seymour if I died alone in my house. Now, I don't mind the fact that I was alone, or that I died necessarily, since we all have to sometime, but I do think about what would happen to Seymour if no one found me for a few days.

I mentioned to my daughter that sometimes I leave my bedroom door ajar so that if I died, Seymour would be able to leave the room and find his food and water. But I don't always do that. Matter of factly my daughter responded, "Don't worry, he'd eat you." Becoming a meal wasn't something that was a concern - before. Now it is. Thanks.

Being pragmatic, I guess it could happen since he would have to survive some way. So, should I bring a big bowl of water into the bedroom each night now? Or should I bring food and water and stave off his animal instincts a bit? But would he choose kibble over fatty protein? Should I eat a lot of garlic each night to make me less tasty - or would he like garlic? Is garlic bad for dogs?

Even during play, Seymour has never even accidentally bit me, so he doesn't know what I taste like. He does lick me a lot. . . could licking be his appetizer? It might just be my imagination, but sometimes I see him looking at me and licking his lips.

Luckily, Seymour is only 7 pounds and not a big eater so even if my daughter didn't come looking for me for a couple of days, I think I would be left mostly intact.

If Seymour died before me, I know I wouldn't eat him, so I can only hope that he would give me the same consideration. Besides, I'm working on being the pack leader and that should have some benefits.

Thanks, dear daughter, for reminding me that I am edible. I needed a new worry. I was running low on them!

Pets for Adoption

I am not looking for another pet but I have to admit I check out the "Pets for Adoption" websites. I think there needs to be rules on those websites. The first one being "If you can not spell your pet's breed, you can't post an ad". Seriously, when I have to sound out the letters to try to figure out what type of dog it is, something is seriously wrong. "Chiouou"? "Spits"? "Dacksun"? Are those really your pets or should I check under the "Lost Pets" ads to see if any of the pictures match? Are they names for "designer dogs" I didn't know about? "Chihuahua + Hound"? "Spitting dog?" "Duck + something fancy"? Or are they all just fancy names for mutts? But it makes me question a $350 rehoming fee for a "Dacksun"? If you want that much, I would think you have some paperwork that shows the correct spelling for the breed.

OK, now that my blood pressure is going back down, the next rule is that I want to know why you are re-homing your perfect pet? Sometimes, I have to read the ads a few times to try to get a clue. If they were honest, their ads would read:

"Beautiful 3 month male Dacksun. Friendly to everyone, crate trained, potty trained, very protective of me. Comes with food, crate and ear plugs."

"One year old Chiouou. Loves to play, needs energetic family. Only barks when it first meets people - or other dogs - or cats - or it's food bowl. Mostly potty trained. Have papers."

"Two year old Spits. Need to rehome by tonight. Great dog but doesn't like men or children and I have a date with a single father tonight."

The last rule would be that the rehoming fee should be less than your rent. What is with a "$450 rehoming fee" to ensure that they go to a good home? Really? It sounds more like you are ensuring that you can keep your good home. I think there have been so many complaints about high rehoming fees that now people write "there is a rehoming fee, contact me for more information". To me, that's like walking into a high end dress shop and not being able to find the prices on the clothes. If they aren't priced, I can't afford them. If I have to call someone to find out the rehoming fee, I better have my loan officer waiting in the wings.

If I ever do get another pet, I will go to a shelter where I know the animals have been checked out physically, emotionally, and given some training - and I know the fees up front. They even sometimes have sales. My dog, Seymour was a "1/2 price" dog from a shelter. He was the best bargain I ever found.

But I still read the ads.

Time Passes Too Fast

You know when time is passing quickly when you see children growing up, new containers or food expiring and when it's time to change the clocks - again! I can't believe that tonight we have to not only change our clocks but turn them forward. Overnight, I'll become an extra hour older. I will need to use an extra dollop of my anti-wrinkle cream for sure.

But that's not the worst part. What I dislike the most is trying to get all of my clocks on the same, correct time. I not only lose an hour, but most of Sunday trying to do the clock synchronization. I have one large clock on the wall above my TV that can only be reached using a step ladder while leaning at a 45 degree angle. I can usually get it down and change the time, but getting it back up requires every muscle I haven't used since the last time I had to change the clock. The problem is that the clock hangs on the wall with one screw that goes into a miniature hole. Since I can barely reach the clock let alone try to look for the match-up between the screw and the hole, I invariably have a step ladder in my house for days. I've tried to put a plant on it to make it look like it "belongs" but my 6 foot ladder still looks out of place. I need the ladder so that I can keep trying to get the clock back on the wall when I re-gain my strength after each marathon attempt.

That isn't my only problem. I also have some atomic clocks that re-set themselves but for some reason, one has been an hour off since the last re-set. It refuses to believe it is wrong. I'm really hoping that tomorrow morning it will finally be right since the other clocks will catch up to it. I have looked at and pressed every button I see on that clock and I can't get it to budge from it's wrong time. I really think that my grey hairs and wrinkles are not from aging but from the stress of day light savings time.

Anti-Hero Dog

It may sound like I don't like my dog, but I am just resigned to the fact that there will never be a People's Magazine article about Seymour being a hero. How do I know this? Well, I've seen him in various situations and I believe that his "heroic gene" is missing. Now, I love my dog and wouldn't trade him for any other, but I was hoping for at least a little bit of a protection instinct in him. Here's some examples;
1. Whenever there is a loud noise in the house and Seymour is sleeping beside me, he lazily looks at me as if to say "You'd better check on that, someone may be breaking in." He then resumes his nap. No barking, no curiosity, just some eye contact with me. Now, I know he's only 7 pounds but I've seen him try to go after deer as if he is going to catch them and drag them back to his yard, so I know he has it in him - somewhere.
2. I burnt toast the other day and the smoke alarm went off. He took off out the doggie door like there was a bacon sale in the back yard. Never once did he look for me to check if I was safe. I have one of those stickers on my front window that tells firemen that I have a pet so they will save him. I probably need to add, I'm pretty sure the pet will be safe outside, so check for the human.
3. I was watching a sad movie and started crying. Seymour was beside me and I decided to see if he would react to my emotions, maybe try to comfort me. I got a little encouraged when he looked up at me with his cute puppy eyes, but then he jumped off of the couch and proceeded to find another resting spot on the other side of the room. Sorry to have disturbed you, your Highness!

And maybe it's just my imagination but he is extra friendly to all adults we encounter. If a car is parking near where we are walking, he stops and watches them until they get out,and then runs happily toward them. Everyone loves him. It's almost like he's looking for his next owner - someone who doesn't cry, burn toast or is afraid of loud noises. He definitely doesn't want to work for his room and board. But I guess being cute, funny and a great travel companion is as much as he is willing to do - and that's enough for me to want to keep him around - forever.

Break-up Lines from Pet Lovers

I once had a guy break up with me using 4 words I'll never forget "My cat is missing". Now, we had been out for at least 4 hours but he didn't tell me this until we got into a little argument when we got home.

What could I say? I loved my animals, too. Although I have no doubt that it was true, I also know that he was not good a dealing with issues so this was his avoidance technique. We did date a little longer but it didn't last because I just never knew when his cat would be missing again.

Although this happened a few years ago, I had a recent experience that made me wish I could re-live that night. This is because of something that just happened to my dog. Seymour was having problems with his collar. I tried a nylon collar and then a leather collar but both caused him a skin irritation and he couldn't stop itching. I finally found a little vest that could replace his collar. I just Velcroed it on him, hooked his leash on to the metal loop attached to the vest and away we went. Most of the time I took his vest off when we got home but sometimes I left it on, especially if it was cool in the house.

Coinciding with this information, Seymour has started standing on the stairs and whimpering to get his way. I quickly learned to ignore the whine and when he quieted down, I would ask him if he wanted to go out or was hungry.

So, last night I heard Seymour whimpering and ignored him, especially since he didn't come to the stairs. After about 30 minutes, I went to investigate. I found him under the bed in the guest room. He was wearing his vest and somehow it got partially loose from his body and the Velcro - and he - were stuck to the carpet. After releasing him, I thought about that long ago break-up and re-lived it in my mind.

He said "My cat is missing".
I say in an even more distressed voice "My dog was Velcroed".

I think I would win.

Things I Miss

Things I miss:
1. Being called “Miss” instead of “Ma’am”
2. Seeing my toes when I’m standing up – why do women want breast implants??
3. Going to the airport to get a cheap “spur of the moment” flight to – somewhere.
4. 39 cents a gallon gas.
5. Wind-up toys.
6. Eating a pint of ice cream and not gaining an ounce.
7. Sleeping through the night without having to get up and pee.
8. Reading small print without having to find my glasses.
9. Going just about anywhere on a street car.
10. Being carded when buying beer. I’d love to know what birth year they put in the cash register - or maybe I wouldn’t.

Things I don’t miss:
1. Trying to hide my head in class when the teacher is looking around to call on someone to answer a question I don’t know.
2. Driving in ice and snow.
3. My hair cut to one inch long bangs just before our school picture was taken.
4. Not being comfortable telling someone to “bug off”.
5. Trying to call someone before answering machines were popular.
6. Wearing a paper dress while dancing all night.
7. Being a contestant in a Go-Go contest.
8. Having to eat kidney beans.
9. Learning to drive a stick shift.
10. Being carded going into a club or when buying beer until I was at least 30 – now I miss it :)

Keeping Up With Technology

I remember when my Dad was a car repair expert. No matter what kind of problem we had, he would get out his screwdrivers, pliers and duct tape - and magically the car was running again. To this day, I carry those things in my car for an emergency. I figured that if I broke down on the side of the road and waved my magical tools in the air, someone would stop to help, being impressed with my knowledge.

Although I do still carry those things around, they have become pretty much obsolete since computers in cars took over. And this is the same thing that happened with remote controls.

I used to be able to pick up the remote, hit the power button and click on the channel and waa-laaa, I was watching TV. Then I got cable. So I had 2 remotes to deal with - one to turn on the TV and one to turn on the cable box. I kept both remotes on the coffee table, ready for action, when a friend came to stay with me for a few days. I was out walking Seymour when she decided to watch TV. While I was walking, I started to worry that I hadn't left her directions on how to turn on the TV. It was a bit complicated. But, when I got back, there she was, watching a morning show while eating her cereal. I was just about to compliment her on her electronic knowledge when she remarked "You know that you don't need both remotes because this one turns on the TV and the cable". What?? For 2 years I was so proud of myself for figuring out how to turn on the TV and cable and in 5 minutes, someone who has never even seen my remote controls before finds the shortcut to power. It was a little embarrassing but I've gotten used to that feeling over the years.

I think I'm a quick learner so I immediately - and proudly - began using my universal remote. Technology wasn't getting ahead of me after all - I thought.

Last night I went to my daughter's house to take care of her dogs while she was away. I decided to watch their enormous TV while I was playing with the dogs. I looked for the remote - and found 3. I tried to match them to the electronics they had piled in their TV cabinet. I found the one that went with the TV and I was pretty sure I found the one to the cable. First, I pressed "power" on the TV remote - nothing happened. Then I took the other remote and pressed TV, then power - and nothing again. I went up to the TV to see if there was a button somewhere I could press to turn it on and couldn't find anything. Finally after jabbing every possible button, the TV went on but the screen was fuzzy. I again pressed every button that seemed like it would do something but still, no picture or sound.

I stared at the cable remote until my eyes started to water and saw that a couple buttons had nothing on them - possibly rubbed off from overuse, which was a positive sign. I pressed both - nothing. Then I decided that I had to press the keys in a certain order, so I tried "cable" - "power" - "channel" - "blank key". Nope. After minutes of pressing keys in various order, I was wishing each key would have a different sound so I could entertain myself by playing tunes. "Blank", "blank", "cable", "cable", "Power", "blank", "channel" . . . As entertaining as that was in my head, my eyes were getting bored staring at the fuzzy screen. Five minutes and an Excedrin later, I got the TV power to go off. I lined the remotes on the couch and slipped a note under them saying "I think I broke your TV and Cable. The dogs are fine."

Technology stuck it's tongue out as it passed me.

Olympic Couture

What is with the clothes the USA teams are wearing to compete this year? Do they get extra points for showing up in tacky outfits? I'm not saying that my taste in clothes is any better but no one sees me in my mismatched, stretched-out sweats except the people in our grocery store and most of them are dressed like me. If I were going to be on TV, I might make more of an effort when choosing my outerwear, at least.

The distracting outfits this year are worn by the ski team. They seriously look like PJs. I know they have little stars all over their uniforms but I also know I've seen that same look with little bunnies on the JCP racks.

Did they really hire people to design these clothes or did they find a clearance sale? Maybe they are trying to show us that they need government support? Our great athletes are doing just about everything on their own, from training to transportation to get to the Olympics so I'm sure they have little money left for their uniforms. It's like being in the Girl Scouts - you have to purchase the specific clothing everyone else wears, whether you look good in green or not.

The good news is that they can go from their event to bed without having to change. I've always wanted to go from bed to the grocery store without having to change so I do admire that aspect.

I think that for the 2014 Olympics they should let the contestants on Project Runway come up with some new ideas. Olympic Couture on the runway - Tim Gunn would be proud!

Sometimes Laughter Causes Pocketbooks to Open

I've been working on getting rid of "stuff" I've had for years and have not used. After writing ad after ad and getting OK results, I got a little punchy and started adding humor to my descriptions. I ended up having fun with it and one guy said he bought my item because my ad made him laugh and asked if I could help him write some ads. Could this be a new business? The following are ads I have or are going to write.

Exercise Step - Due to getting lazy, am selling my exercise step. Like new, since it seemed to prefer living under my bed than having me step on it. It might like your feet better.

Set of Regalware - 3 saucepans and skillet with lids. The saucepans are in great condition but the skillet has some burnt on grease due to my cooking philosophy "If it's not black, it's not done." This ad was covertly written by the skillet.

2-Room Tent - never used. Got intimidated when I read that it goes up in 10 minutes. I can't even figure out how to put the batteries in my camping lantern in that amount of time. This tent needs to belong to someone with more confidence.

Pasta maker - I don't know what I was thinking. Never used - looks like an old wringer washing machine, which I also bought - and sold - without using. I would keep it if I could figure out how to make it into a planter. Perfect for just about anyone but me.

Easy Up Gazebo - never used but all of the pieces are now in a large baggie and I am working on trying to iron smooth and tape back together the impossible to follow instructions. Cheap!

Watching the Olympics With My Dog

I love watching the Olympics! Seymour loves sleeping beside me. The two don't mesh well together. The problem is that I am not a "quiet" couch potato like I am when I'm watching, say, "America's Next Top Model" or CNN. Seymour is used to the normal me - a person who can sit in front of the TV for 3 hours watching and listening, but not commenting on what I see. Mainly because I am busy eating popcorn, but still -

The Olympics is a different story. I'm as nervous as the parents and coaches of each Olympian. When they make a mistake, I jump and yell "oh no!" and Seymour jumps and puts his nose almost on mine while looking in my eyes. He is trying to figure out what is wrong with me. I tell him everything is OK and try to get him to lay back down when I abruptly shout again at two snowboarders who crash into each other. Seymour again pops up and gets in my face - just staring at me. If he could talk I know he'd be saying "What is your friggin' problem? You are severely disrupting my sleep and I am not a happy dog right now. Now settle down!" The more I yell at the TV the longer Seymour locks eyes with me in undisguised disgust. I find that I break eye contact first, he is that good. If he had opposing thumbs he would be using the squirt bottle on me.

Apparently, he does not seem to see the irony in the fact that he sometimes runs out the doggie door (I have to remember to lock that thing) at midnight, barking incessantly at - whatever - while ignoring my efforts to quiet him down and get him back in the house. Talk about losing sleep and trying to quiet the adrenaline rush I go through each time that happens. But I don't stare him down when he finally comes in. I do not see the difference here.

I realize that he is just a dog - and as such should not have control over how I watch TV, but I also understand that he needs his sleep and for 2 weeks I will be disrupting it. I am willing to compromise a bit - if he limits his midnight barking, I will work on using only my facial expressions and finger clenching, with no audible sounds, during emotional parts of the games. We are currently in negotiations.

Day One of New Diet

1. Get out of bed, totally motivated that this will be a good day to start a diet. I'm not even hungry yet but they say you should never skip breakfast. So I rummage through the kitchen to find something healthy.
2. I find that my breakfast choices are:
a. Grapefruit that is starting to mold
b. Individual Oatmeal packet that appears to have a small hole in it - not sure what could be living inside.
c. Yogurt with an expiration date of July 20007
d. A movie-sized box of Whoppers - partially healthy since I think it's made with malted milk (whatever that is?)
3. Finish my coffee with light soy milk - and my Whoppers and decide I better go to the grocery store for diet-friendly food.
4. Write my grocery list - salad fixings, fruit, chicken, fresh veggies and yogurt - I'm very motivated!
5. Head into the grocery store and have to fight my way through the cute little Girl Scouts holding Girl Scout cookies under my nose. Resist, with pride.
6. Go straight to the fruits and vegges aisle and load up on healthy food items.
7. Pat myself on the back (in my head) and stand 5th person back in the check-out line. To keep myself occupied I check out the magazines and glance at the candy and the one-portion sized cookie bags. Again, no temptation.
8. The grey-haired lady 2 persons in front of me has her groceries all bagged and she is finally digging through her purse looking for her check book. I roll my eyes and they land on the Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. I'm feeling strong and in control and practice my deep breathing exercises.
9. Grey-haired woman finds checkbook but there are no checks left so she had to run out to her car to get more checks - well not exactly "run", more like hobble. I close my eyes and inhale so deeply that I start to get lightheaded. When I open my eyes to steady myself, I am looking straight at the RPC - again. Nope, I tell my brain, you don't need chocolate because you are stressed! I resist.
10. Finally, here comes the lady and she borrows a pen to slowly write her check. She doesn't seem to have her driver's license with her so the cashier calls for a manager. I know this is just a test for me to see if I can stand in a candy aisle for 30 minutes with succumbing to temptation. I can do it!
11. Finally grey-haired lady finishes torturing me and leaves - and I still have no chocolate in my cart.
12. The person in front of me unloads her cart - filled with candy, cookies and a Birthday cake. She mentions she is having a party - right!! I've used that excuse before and I discretely admire my healthy cart.
13. I made it through check out - without chocolate or sweets! To say that I'm proud of myself is a major understatement.
14. I am putting my change in my wallet as I walk out the grocery store door - and into a little Girl Scout holding a box of Thin Mints. I feel awful when I see her try to hide the tears as I help her up. I tell her how sorry I am - and purchase 2 boxes of Thin Mints. I really had no choice.
15. I load the groceries into my back seat - and the Thin Mints into my front seat.
16. I decide I was meant to start my diet tomorrow.

Really Bad Reality Shows on My TVo

I have many vices like chocolate, 1 star romantic movies and well, more chocolate - but the vice I couldn't bring myself to include on my New Years resolution list is watching some bad reality shows. The good reality shows like "The Amazing Race", "Project Runway", "Tabatha's Salon", and "Shear Genius" have some adventure, intellectual and creative value to me. The bad ones actually make me cringe and make weird frowny-faces. In spite of increased wrinkles around my mouth, I continue to watch them.

The two that make me think I need a 12 step program and an admission that I am a bad reality show junky are "Launch My Line" and "High School Reunion". This was the first season of "Launch My Line" and since I like "Project Runway" so much (I actually bought a mannequin I was so inspired) I decided to check it out. The premise is that aspiring designers, with no training are paired with real designers who help them sew the clothing that they create. I was getting a feeling that this wasn't going to be a top-grade reality show (yes, there is such a thing) when 2 of the judges were dress shop owners. They are called "fashion notables" on the Bravo website. That's like me being a judge of a line of sportswear because I'm a "frequent sweat pants wearer". The hosts are designers Dean and Dan of DSQUARED2. Now I have to admit that I don't know what they design but I want to tell them - gently - that men their age should not be dressing alike anymore. They not only dress alike but they finish each other's sentences and walk identically onto the stage and onward to the judges chairs. My frown lines grow deeper every time I watch them. The contestants were certainly chosen for the drama and the bickering is a big part of the show. The only saving grace is that they did have Fergie come on to give each finalist some kind of compliment - she must have lost a bet. The season is finally over and I only hope that my TVo forgets that I have a season pass to this show.

The other awful show that I've started watching again is "High School Reunion". This show actually used to be interesting. I watched it a few years ago and I liked the concept. A group of people get back together 10 or 20 years after they graduated from high school and they get to meet up with old loves or confront the bullies of their youth. I totally forgot about the show until I happened to be flipping through channels and found it again. I don't know what happened to the writers, but I think they now only come up with story lines after a night of drinking and not sleeping. I am actually embarrassed for the people on the show - and for me for watching it. This season, a group from a high school in Las Vegas get together in Hawaii. They label each person like "the jock","the cheerleader", "the player", "the nerd", "the prankster", "the late bloomer" and "the summer girls". It's bad enough that 20 years after graduation you have these labels but then they add two guys from a rival school that crash the reunion. Sadly, they could only find one single guy so they brought a married guy with him who says he's just here as the "wing man". I'm not sure what he told his wife about this gig, but I doubt she will be telling her friends and neighbors to tune in. The rival guys spray paint their high school name on the other's high school banner and toilet paper the rooms. Really??? These people are 38 years old! Have they not grown up at all in 20 years? The cliches keep coming on this show. The "summer girls" are botoxed and wear skimpy clothes, the "nerd" has a secret that she is now an exotic dancer but she still holds a grunge against the popular girls because she was never able to get into the "in" crowd. The "jock", who had been dating the "cheerleader" for years in high school, only to fool around on her, ended up tossing her aside again for the "late bloomer". This is so contrived and stupid that I can't believe that I am watching it (It's not over yet). The interesting thing is that this show is at least partially real because they are asking people who graduated in 1990 to apply for the next season. I'm not sure that 15 minutes of fame is worth 20 or 30 years of humiliation. I'm not saying that I am not going to finish watching it, but I am publicly admitting that I have a problem and as soon as this season is over, I'm going to consider addressing it.

It's Almost New Year's Eve!

Are you checking your calendar right now? Yes, most people celebrate New Year's Eve on December 31 but this year we decided to celebrate it on January 31. I think this is no different than people who have budget years that sometimes use a calendar year and sometimes go from October to September. Life is full of choices people! Some of us have had a crappy January and instead of thinking that we will have to live for the next year buried under our blankets while being pelted with life problems, we decided that February will start our new year.

This makes sense in many ways. For example, you can save money if you start your fitness New Year's Resolution in Feburary. Most normal (or as I say "boring") people do the Janaury thing. They spend big bucks on exercise equipment so they can start getting fit January 1. If you are smart, you will start your resolution one month later and buy your equipment for 1/2 price from the people who decided they would instead exercise their fingers placing a Craigslist ad. Sadly, some people who bought those Christmas puppies for crazy prices are now advertising their pets for next to nothing - and including their food, beds and toys. Those of us who start the New Year in February will have more money in our pockets while having cool "stuff" - and pets in our homes.

We even saved "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year" show so we can watch the ball drop at any time of the night on 1-31-10. We don't plan to stay up until midnight so that ball can drop at 8 pm and we will still have time to go home and watch House Hunter re-runs before bed. It's hard for me not to be excited about this but I'm afraid that my enthusiasm might be catchy and too many others will do the same thing and ruin it for me.

I'm not even going to tell you when I'm planning to celebrate Christmas!

Three New Inventions

Do you ever just think of something and wonder why no one seems to have invented it already? During one sleep-deprived night while I was looking for one more piece of chocolate in the meat drawer of my refrigerator, the light bulb in my frig - as well as my head - turned on to about 150 watts. I had some new inventions brewing! If you ever see them in production, just remember where you first heard about them.

1. Vitamin D enhanced TV screen - We keep hearing that most people don't get enough Vitamin D. I guess you have to be outside to get that or down a couple little gel pills with your choice of wake-up drink. I'm thinking that the time it takes to go from the house to the car to the store is probably not adequate time to fill our Vitamin D supply. But most of us do spent a significant amount of time in front of the TV - it's relaxing and sometimes makes us laugh - so we are reinforced to do that. Why can't RCA or Tachichie-something have our TV screens emit some level of Vitamin D every time we turn it on? The screen might need to be a little brighter but we can always keep our sunglasses handy. A healthy TV experience! I love doing something to improve my health - without doing anything different. I want some royalties for this!

2. Gumby flash drive for you brain - Do you ever wish you could figure out the workings of someones brain? Like Bob Dylan, Bill Gates, or even PeeWee Herman? What if someone is leaving a job and you know they are taking an encyclopedia of knowledge with them - inside their brain - and you need that information? Behold, the Gumby flash drive. You just insert it into a persons ear and squeeze. Instantly, all of those knowledge brain cells are copied onto a easily expandable gumby guy. You aren't actually taking the brain cells - that would probably be illegal - but just copying them. What if you just didn't have time to cram for a test but you friend took that test yesterday? Gumby to the rescue! I've recently been in a situation where I know that if gumby were available, my brain would now be duplicated into other less-endowed heads. The thing about this invention is that it only copies what is already there but doesn't have any ability to create new ideas. So, maybe someone has taken my gumby flash drive idea from my brain, but they don't know anything about my newest invention, which is:

3. A mobile coffee pot/vacuum cleaner - this is probably on the horizon, especially if someone reads my blog. In fact, the manufacturers are almost there. We now have coffee pots that grind the coffee bean and start brewing at the appointed time. We already have the robot vacuum cleaner that busies itself humming along the floor picking up crumbs, etc. Why can't that vacuum also pick up the coffee pot and bring it to us? Yes, I realize it would have to be a wireless model but can you just see how great it would be to get up in the morning, have your floor clean and you coffee pot moseying over to your chair? The pot would have to be modified to hold your cup, spoon, milk and sugar on a nifty tray on the top, but that would be easy. As I sit here writing and glance at my empty coffee cup, I wonder how many more trips I'm going to have to make to the coffee pot - in the kitchen - before someone eases my life.

Conan's My Hero

I think we've all been in a situation similar to Conan's at least one time in our work lives. Maybe we didn't have millions at stake or millions of people blogging about us and demonstrating their support but we had at least some family - or friend - or cashier at the 7-11 who lent a sympathetic ear. By the way, it's much more cost effective to talk with the 7-11 cashier as you are purchasing a 59 cent coffee refill than to talk with a bartender while purchasing multiple $5.00 Shiners on draft.

Watching Conan's shows over the last week or so was like participating in a cleansing for our own life issues. We could yell at the TV screen "You tell em, Coco", or "Take that NBC". I didn't even feel a need to finish off the lone chocolate chip cookie out of my dozen during his show. My tummy was full and the stuff I had swept under the carpet was about to be dumped into the trash. "Conan the Comedic Millionaire" was also "Conan the Every Man". He was fighting back for all of us.

Yes, we know that life isn't always fair and the bad don't always get what's coming to them, but we 'average people" believe that we will be better for our experiences. Conan's final monologue of the night for his final show was somber, but with some humor thrown in - love that smile of his! What really stuck with me was when he said "If you work hard and are kind, amazing things will happen". Conan, best of luck to you - and to each of us.

Reasons We Want to Live

You hear people say, when they are in a life-threatening situation, that they often get through it because they think of their kids or spouses and know they have to for them. Having a reason to live sometimes keeps us alive.

I was watching CNN today and one woman from the USA had been trapped in a bank in Haiti for 52 or so hours and they asked her what she was thinking about. She said (in so many words) "I knew my children would be mad at me if I died because my papers are disorganized and they wouldn't be able to figure out anything." Basically she was saying that she was too disorganized to die. I was nodding my head in agreement and understanding as she was talking. That is me!

It's on my "to do" list to get my files in order but I haven't gotten to it yet. I think it's just after "live overseas for 2 years" and "learn Italian". Maybe deep down I think that if I put off organizing my "stuff", I'll live longer. I realize it may be unrealistic but so far, it's working.

Along with that logic, I can't have anyone come to clean my house because it's too messy. And I can't get my car detailed because it's too dirty.

I really appreciated the honesty of that woman's words. There are many reasons that we have for wanting to stay alive - and not leaving until we are organized makes sense. Now I am breathing a sigh of relief knowing it's not just me.

GPS -Manufactured in Hell

I knew it! Recently there have been stories in the paper about people trusting their GPS' to take them somewhere and they end up - far from their destination, with the GPS still telling them over and over to "make the next illegal U-turn". The sadistic, crazy person who programs these little monster machines should be made to always have to follow their GPS, no matter if they are only "trying" to go to the local grocery store. I hope they don't run out of gas before they get there!

I'm a trusting person normally so when I plug an address into my GPS and tell it to go the "fastest route", I expect to get there - quickly - or at least sometime that day. I also expect to have a calm ride because the competent GPS is in control. Most of the time I get to my destination. But, lately I'm starting to question if a GPS can get Alzheimer's.

Why else would it tell me to get off of the highway at exit 21 and get back on at exit 22? Or make a left turn on an overpass on the freeway? I may not have a great sense of direction but I do know that 2 illegal U-turns in a row won't get me anywhere but pulled over by the local police. Try to explain that your GPS made you do it!

I finally decided that I might be the cause of my GPS' misguidance because I hadn't updated the maps in over a year. Thanks to excellent childhood training, my first thought is always that it must be my fault. Quickly I found that a GPS is much like a printer. Both can be purchased at reasonable prices but try to buy ink or a revised map and you better get your credit card limit raised.

One hundred dollars and 2 hours later, my GPS was ready for it's test run. To check on the updated maps, I put in an address for a subdivision near my house that was only about 2 years old. "No such address" noted my newly updated GPS. Thinking that I put it in wrong (yep, the guilt's strike again) I re-entered the address. It finally accepted it and I was on my way - the opposite way from the subdivision. I decided that I had time so I would just relax and follow the directions of the British woman. She seems a little brighter than the woman with the general accent less voice. One hour and 40 minutes later, the voice said "You have arrived". Well, I had arrived - somewhere - in a neighboring town. It seems that the GPS decided that I didn't know what I was talking about so it lead me to a different city.

As much as I argue with and yell at my GPS, it still never listens to me. I know I'm not the only one frustrated with these "do not know it all" devices. A friend got a rental car with a GPS and after being totally lost, she lost it and called it every name she could think of - and even some she didn't know she knew. Just as she was about to take a breath and start in again, she heard a voice say "Ma'am, do you need help?" It seems that her GPS was attached to AnStar-type support and everything she said was heard throughout their office. Maybe the joker who programs these machines works there and thinks this is a hilarious prank.

Whatever the reason, the public continues to buy new GPS', thinking that the next one will work better. I'm not getting a new one, but I might see if my maps need to be updated again.

My Dog Is Crafty

I don't mean that my dog Seymour does crafts - at least not when I'm home. Although sometimes I've noticed a few of my "Do It Yourself" books opened near his crate. But I digress - he is crafty in the way he tries to manipulate me. He usually fools me once, but fool me twice - or three times and I could be President.

Back to the crafty part - he knows that I don't like him to bark. When he does, I get out the "Bad Dog" squirt bottle and spray him with water. As a matter of fact, when he does bark, all I have to do is hold a squirt bottle out in front of me, pointing his way and he instantly quiets. Unfortunately, he also knows that if I stand there aiming long enough, my arm will start to throb and I'll have to lower the bottle so with a smirk, he starts barking again.

He also knows that when he whines, I go through the whole array of what can be wrong. "Do you have to go outside"? "Are you hungry?" "Are you feeling sick"? "Do you want to sit in my lap"? Usually, he doesn't need anything except for all of my attention. Got me again!

When I take him for a walk, he wants to stop every 3 feet to smell the aromas of the various dog and cat droppings. I have never figured out why, when dogs are supposed to have this great sense of smell, he has to put his nose directly on another dog's poop - or another dog's poop hole for that matter. He knows what it smells like from a football field away. He also knows that his time is limited in the nose-to-poop exploration because I will drag him away quicker than the weather changes in Texas.

He learned a way to prolong that pleasure. He stops, lifts his leg and then stands there while his head slowly makes it's way to the ground - and smells - the wonders in front and beside him. He knows I'm not going to stop him from peeing and I can't always tell if he is or isn't. This 3 legged yoga-like maneuver has really improved his balance -unfortunately it hasn't improved my patience. I finally started lifting one leg a few inches to try to get my own balance exercise in since I know I'll be standing there for awhile. I'm sure my neighbors think that Seymour is teaching me tricks. He is so crafty, I think he is! Fool me twice . . .

Signs of Getting Older

I finally realized that things have changed. Now, when I'm ready to go out I'm not as concerned about looking good, as I am about looking "less bad". Looking good seems too hard of a goal.

Age is creeping up on me - well, not as much "creeping" as jogging to catch me as I race walk while putting on my lipstick so it doesn't recognize me as "old". I used to only have to worry about one or two beauty things at a time - making sure my hair was combed and finding the right lipstick. Now I have to figure out why my nicely curled perm has suddenly started looking like a head of cotton balls that got caught in an egg beater. Then I notice the dark circles under my eyes and the wrinkles around my lips. Wait, what happened to my neck? Are those grey hairs in my eyebrows? OK, I'm upping my beauty remedies to three things - tops.

Now when I go out I just choose the things that will let me look "less bad". What I prioritize depends on where I'm going. So, if I'm going to the grocery store I will:
1. Put on a hat;
2. Put on a coat if it's 72 degrees or less; (Sometimes I have to go as soon as they open or just before they close to get the temperature right).
3. Put on eye liner.

If I'm going to the movies, I'll:
1. Run a comb through my hair because I've found that people hate sitting behind someone wearing a hat;
2. Put on a make-up/moisturizer (all in one so it only counts as one)
3. Put on eye liner.

If I'm going to get gas in my car, I'll:
1. Smooth out my pajamas;
2. Run my fingers through my hair; and
3. Put on eye liner.

The eye liner solves two problems. First, if I put enough on, people stare at my eyes and the rest of my face is safe from scrutiny. Second, it usually causes my eyes to water so before long I can't see if people are looking at me. I think I look "less bad" that way.