END OF AN ERA

Well... okay. Not an era. But certainly the end of a year. 2013 to be exact. Which I have to say was a year way better than the year before. Thank God. And... a year which I hope will not even compare to the one that's coming up. For I sorta have high hopes for 2014. I know... I'm such an optimist. Or a fool. I'm not sure which one just yet. But in any case...

I am trying to figure out what was the best thing that happened in 2013 and I always keep coming back to the times that I spent with my kid. I always love being with him for he makes me so very happy with his humor and smile and even his crapola. So basically if being with him was the best of the year, then I'd almost have to say I guess everything else was pretty much secondary and thus in that tier, probably equal in the enjoyment department.

I do remember, with major happiness I might add, the night I went to a new Italian restaurant about a half hour away from here. Nothing fancy but OMG. The food I had there was just unf'ingbelievable. Seriously... my taste buds were doing a dance all OVER the place. That was definitely a red letter evening.

I also have to say the most recent thrill was creating all my new necklaces for even as they were being made, I was in my glory as I laid out each bead, knowing that in the end it was going to be a knockout.

I was also tap dancing all over the place on the day my Medicare kicked in. Man... just the thought of not having to shell out over $1000 a month put my delight barometer way up in the clouds. I'm telling you... Medicare is one of the all time best inventions ever.

Oh yeah... I also have to say that the first time I heard Robin Thicke sing Blurred Lines I thought I died and went to heaven. I mean it. I was in the car and I could hardly get out because I transfixed to the lyrics and music. Needless to say one of the WORST moments of the year was when stupid ass Miley Cyrus totally screwed up Robin's performance with her utterly disgusting looking tongue but that's another story altogether.

Another thing that stands out in my mind was when I was in Ft. Lauderdale at the beginning of the year and I got to spend so much time with my niece, Laura. Besides... anyone who is so willing to take me out for a hot pastrami sandwich any time I want, is definitely someone you just gotta love forever.

Anyway.... as I said... 2013 was pretty much a decent year. But I am totally hoping 2014 surpasses it by leaps and bounds. I also hope I score big on any one of the major upcoming Power Ball Lotteries. Whoa. Would THAT ever make it bonus year. But most importantly...


I just hope my health remains good. And I hope yours does as well. I hope we all have a safe, loving, hell of a great New Year. I don't know about you... but me?? Holy Shit. I so deserve it. 

I'M AN ADDICT

Holy ba holy. I can't believe how little time I've had to write a blog lately. I feel totally overwhelmed trying to be sure every little detail in my stupid little life is running like clockwork, thus by the time I get to vegging out, with time enough for writing this blog, I'm just way too damn exhausted.

Of course having to deal with an Achilles Tendonitis for a week didn't help. Nor did my being afraid that the Health Department might come and condemn my house the following week, since I had given my total attention to nothing else but to making at least a dozen of the absolutely most stunning necklaces you ever saw. I was obsessed! Nor did it help that I had been sick with swollen glands, chest and head congestion for yet another week after that. Geez... I must have slept for DAYS until I felt somewhat normal again. Factor in trying to keep the rest my regular life in order and boom. Who has time to blog? Anyway...

The part that I'll concentrate on today is: MY NEW ADDICTION. It's totally shameful, too. I can not beLIEVE how this has taken over my life but I have to tell you... am loving every minute of it.

After years of seeing thousands of necklaces that Claudia creates with beautiful beads, findings, etc.... something in me just sprang right smack up into my head out of nowhere and said: GO BUY BEADS AND IMMEDIATELY BEGIN MAKING NECKLACES... AND MAKE THEM ALONG THE LINES OF IRIS APFEL'S LOOK. As in: big, chunky and LONG. EXCEPT MAKE YOURS WITH JUST A LITTLE BLING.

Next thing you know... I'm at the bead store, spending more money on any one hobby than I ever have for 12 other hobbies, combined. I'm telling you... hundreds of dollars! Over and over again; even with the 40% discounts, I might add. That's the price of addiction, I guess. On the other hand, look how much I'm saving by not having to go to Jewelry Making Rehab. 

Because... for all those hundreds, I now have necklaces that could easily bring in MAJOR bucks were I to ever sell them. Which of course I never would. Besides, these creations conSUMED me for at LEAST a week straight at first and even now as we speak... my entire dining room table is totally covered with my beading supplies. That first week has now grown into almost four I'll bet but man, what stunning necklaces I have. And what pretty ones yet to be made.

I can't believe how beautifully they turned out nor can I believe how happily I can sit making these necklaces while also happily listening to my Kindle read every great book I've ever wanted to hear, for hours and hours. It's total heaven. In the meantime, you need to check out the pictures below to get an idea of how they turned out. Granted... the pictures don't even beGIN to do justice to what the necklaces look like in person but you'll get the idea nonetheless. 

I have even worn some twice already and have gotten totally rave reviews each time. Claudia makes much more refined looking necklaces. I make far more bolder looks. Especially since I wear at least two, maybe three at a time. They completely knock my fucking socks off.

Plus.. this little multimillion dollar hobby is just soooo relaxing. And fun. And creative. And totally fits into my love for instant gratification. Seriously. Who could ask for more? Check out the necklaces down below.


In the meantime... yippee. I'm finally back to the real world, feeling as chipper as ever, enjoying fun celebrations for the Holidays. Oh yeah... Merry Christmas everyone. Hopefully you got presents as fantastic as the ones below. Although I can hardly imagine it.

THANKS BUT NO THANKS

I'm a pretty spiritual kinda gal. But George W. Bush would totally hate me. Although I hate him more, but who cares. Anyway... my sort of spirituality is that where I feel tremendous gratitude for the life I've been given and the hopes that I approach mankind with graciousness and compassion. George's on the other hand, is the kind of spirituality where he was supposedly in church one Sunday morning, grappling with the decision of whether or not to run for President... and boom. God magically, specifically, directly speaks to him and supposedly says: YEAH, GEORGE. YOU KNOW WHAT? THE COUNTRY ABSOLUTELY NEEDS YOU TO RUN FOR PRESIDENT. Boom. Done deal. He's gonna run. Well, God said SOMEthing along those lines anyway. Can you f'ing believe it??

Which to me is a perfect definition of who exactly should NEVER run for the highest office in the land. Really, George? God's voice came into church and sent a message just to you, telling you to go for it? Oh man. I can't even stomach the thought. You don't believe me? Here... read a couple of paragraphs of this article and figure it out for yourself. I'm telling you... it's true. Bush really does think God was speaking to him as if in a vision or something. Frankly, I myself say it must have been an after effect of LSD from years past. But whatever. Anyway... check out this link:

God Speaks to Georgie

I take prayer pretty seriously. And very personally. I have no clue whether or not there really IS a God-like figure up there listening to my prayers, but I sorta hope so given I say two personal prayers everytime I do my yoga session. I begin with a prayer to God, and then about half way through I say yet another. Which is exactly why I almost freaked when I saw this license plate a couple of months ago. The one up above there, in the picture I captured a couple of months ago.

Talk about my never doubting whether or not I live in the Bible Belt. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? SOME GUY IS ACTUALLY DIRECTING ME TO PRAY FOR HIM?? AND THEN PRAY FOR MYSELF, TOO?? Jesus. Since when do we go around telling strangers like me, to pray for them when I have no clue who the hell the guy is nor if he even deserves my blessing. Plus... HE PUTS THIS ON HIS LICENSE PLATE?? Whoa. The prisoner who made THIS plate must have felt some sort of redemption 1-2-3. I was totally shocked when I saw this. I still am, actually.

So shocked in fact that you have no idea what I had to go through to get a picture of this deal. Don't even ask. It was crazy. First I had to keep driving my car while reaching over, digging deep into my purse, feeling all around to grab my camera, all the while trying to keep up with the guy in traffic and then, only due to a stroke of luck.. or God's will maybe??... did we finally come to a stop light. And bingo. My chance to begin snapping away occurred! I must admit however, I probably said THANK GOD at that moment, but in truth I wasn't really thanking THE God. If anything... at the very least... I decided THAT ALONE was probably my prayer for the guy who's telling me to pray. THANK YOU GOD FOR LETTING ME GET A PICTURE OF THIS STUPID ASS LICENSE PLATE.

To my way of thinking... this kind of directive on a car is like me walking into the DMV and asking for a specialized plate (which I did do, btw but that's a whole other story altogether) and telling them to please make it say: SND $$ BOX 240. Can you imagine?? Man, would I ever love to do that. YIPPEE. I'D BECOME RICH!

In the meantime, I definitely take offense at people on the roads that I don't even know telling me I should pray for them. Uh... thanks but no thanks. WHO NEEDS YOU TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO?? I'LL PRAY FOR THE FOLKS WHOM I SPECIFICALLY WANT TO PRAY FOR! More importantly... I'd like to know exactly what this guy ever did to need so many damn prayers, in the first place. For all I know he could be sporting a freakin' stolen car!

So the bottom line here is: I guess this guy is living the life of Riley. No wonder. THE ENTIRE CITY IS PRAYING FOR HIM. Now granted... something really horrible could be happening in his life and he needs support but STILL. On a license plate?? Besides that... I'm supposed to pray for myself too?? As if I'm in need of some sort of forgiveness? Lordy Lordy. The Messiah better show up real soon because I'm beginning to think the entire Evangelicals are totally turning loony and are headed way off the deep end but FAST. And don't think for one minute this guy ISN'T an Evangelical. Remember: I'm in the Bible Belt.


Oh yeah... don't even get me started on this car being a Jaguar. I was behind Billy Graham?? Franklin Graham?? Any of the Grahams?? They DO live in Western NC, you know.

SEAFOOD FEST

I just may have to stay up all night so I can eat all the most delicious foods in the world that I just happened to buy tonight. I can't even believe this. I went out on THE coldest night of the year to pick up some cherry pie filling and shrimp... and walked away having spent over $200. Oops. That's pretty damn pricey cherries and shrimp, if I say so myself.

So it sorta went down like this: After a lovely afternoon of working with Deanna on an invitation she needed for her New Year's Day Open House... I woke up from a long nap all spiffy and raring to go once again. So... I then began working on making an excellent pearl bracelet that I'm sporting as we speak. Man.. threading those pearls is way harder than it used to be given my eyesight is now basically fair at best. But whatever. I'd say that took me about an hour and a half and then... I was beginning to feel antsy.

Therefore I toyed with the idea of should I or should I not go to Fresh Market. Normally I'd elect to stay put given the cold temps, etc. but... I decided the hell with it. I've already got my wooly lined boots on, I've already got my jeans on and I've already got my fleece tunic on, so basically all I'd need to do was boom. Throw on my winter coat and head out. Which I did. Especially since I figured that I'd almost bet the closer it got to Thanksgiving, the better the chances of the store not having what I wanted. Bingo. I braved the elements.

Oh yeah... the pre-bonus to this little shopping trip was that next to Fresh Market is SteinMart so naturally I had to stop in there first to check out the shoe department. And the chunky jewelry, too. Astonishingly, I walked out when I realized OMG... the grocery store is going to close in about a half hour. No need wasting my time on shit I didn't need in the first place. So I hightailed it over to the grocery store. Anyway....

I walked into Fresh Market and headed straight to the pie baking department. Mission accomplished. Got the cherries. However... on the way to the seafood department I noticed: STANDING RIB ROAST - $6.99 A POUND - TODAY ONLY. About two seconds of decision making went into it and next thing you know, the roast is in my basket.

Finally I walked over to the shrimp. But THEN I remembered: the alltime best deluxe crab cakes are there, so yep. You guessed it. Three of those went into my cart. As did 4 lobster tails that were on sale, also one day only. Add to that, the 4 packages of pre cooked huge lobster bits that I like having in my refrigerator for quick snack emergencies. Eventually I got around to the 2 pounds of shrimp and I was then merrily on my way.

Until that is, I passed the deli and saw the baked chicken wings and drumettes that I totally adore. Believe me... my basket was piled up to the hilt. WITH A SEAFOOD DELIGHT LIKE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE. Not to mention the chicken and beef. Oh man... my mouth was watering just thinking about the fantastic shopping I had just done. No wonder. I was STARVING.

Which means: just how long you think it took me to get home, grab the chicken wings, pull up a chair and DOWN 10 OF THEM LICKETY SPLIT 1-2-3. I swear. I just couldn't stop! I devoured those deals in mere minutes, not even having put away any of the groceries yet, either. Ahhhh... the glories of delicious food.

Needless to say, my refrigerator is now stuffed with all this food that looks like I'm feeding a family of eight. And, apparently it's going to be that way for a few days yet, given that tomorrow night I'll be going out to my alltime next best type of dinner... Chinese. I can only hope my Fortune Cookie will include something about six more people soon moving in so I can clear out the fridge and share the feast of a lifetime all in one fell swoop.


Bottom line: I'm apparently the only woman in American not stocking her home with Thanksgiving food. I'm doing seafood instead. On the other hand, I sometimes like living outside the box. Uh... the ice box that is.

HAPPY ALMOST THANKSGIVING

Man... I've sported several looks in the past month and this one is the latest. It was also the one into which I put the least amount of work. I have to assume it's because its enough already with the parties that require me to don SOME sort of costume.

Besides... I'm running out of simple ideas. I am certainly not going the purchased costume route, so I basically have to draw upon whatever happens to be in my closet. Which is no easy feat, actually. Case in point: each year I know for sure that I'll be invited to at least one Halloween party. This year however, there were two.

Over the past few years I've gone as an upscale call girl, a Grande Dame socialite, a Japanese Geisha girl and then last weekend... well you see it up there in the picture. I was so over costumes that for this latest party I merely took a black hat I had around the house, taped on a white Pilgrim buckle that I made out of card stock and added a white lace scarf around my neck. Oh yeah... I also wore a pair of leather square toed boots to which I had had already added great pretend baby diamonds covering the entire toe box.

Anyway... viola'... I was a Pilgrim. Not a great costume for sure, but at least everyone knew what I was going for, when first I walked in. And trust me... this look couldn't have been easier. Unfortunately, I had to go easy on the jewels given Pilgrims were pretty blah in the bling department. You know. Puritan and all. Anyway....

I actually had a pretty good time at the party. And it just knocks my socks off seeing what everyone ELSE puts together. IT'S AMAZING. The creations of adults 65 years + are fantastic. Some are pretty ingenious, if you ask me. Of course as much as I loved seeing everyone, equal to that, is always the food. I totally loved the huge container of cooked pasta with 3 choices of toppings. I personally went for the fettuccine on half of my pasta, then the meat sauce on the other half. Absolutely excellent.   


In the meantime... down below are a few of the looks I think you've already seen. The last one however is the look I think I'll go for, for the NEXT costume party I ever have to attend. I got the idea just tonight actually, and I've to imagine it's a pretty easy look to capture. No wonder... again, I can just grab something from my closet. Seriously... like just hard can this be?? Wig... eyeliner... red lipstick. Boom. Done. 

And with that my good friends... I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving.

DEAR DIARY...

Well today started out pretty good. No wonder... I woke up at almost noon. What could be bad about THAT?? Got up, got dressed and spent the entire day at home. Which was also good since I had all kinds of papers to sort through with the hopes of ditching 3/4 of them. Mission pretty much accomplished on that front.

I also had to tailor the shoulders of a new dress I got, but unfortunately the finished work turned out to be a dud. Bingo... I had to rip the seam apart and decided: the hell with it. I'll wear it as is. THAT WAS EASY.

Got lots of phone calls and chit chatted for a bit before I went on my two searches. WHERE THE HELL IS MY WILL, ANYWAY?? You can't beLIEVE how I tore apart the drawers, cabinets and file folders. It's totally not here. I did find the codicil of the will however, which was done about 10 months ago, I bet. Anyway... called Evan's office and lo and behold... the original is in his office safe! Finding that out however, didn't do much to calm my pounding heart so boom. Downed half an Ativan.

Then I began my next search... the hunt for my new pair of Issac Mizrahi jeans that I was in the midst of tailoring a while ago and quickly put away somewhere when company was coming. WHERE THE HELL DID I PUT THEM? I still have no clue in spite of my looking through every closet in the house. They've been missing for about a month now. Man... for someone as organized as I am, I can find nothing around this place.

I then toyed with the idea of taking a nap, but figured that can't be good for someone who woke up at noon. So... I went through all the papers I wanted to file away and yippee. Found my AFLAC POLICY which I had not seen in two years, I'll bet. I also found the WARRANTY POLICY for my car which I think is only good for another two years at most. Ooops.

Then I tried to find something decent to watch on TV but as usual, found nothing. Totally boring shit although I did spend about 15 minutes of channel surfing. Evan called me back and I got sick to my stomach again hearing how his young daughter is going through all kinds treatments for her leukemia and who will soon have to head over to Duke University for a bone marrow transplant. Talk about heart breaking.

To ease my concern for her, I decided to have a fantastic dinner... a huge bowl of ice cream with chocolate syrup on top. It definitely eased my broken heart to some degree. It also did a number on my caloric intake.

Was pretty happy when my son called. Unlike ME, he was able to get Sirrius Radio to renew my subscription at half the price they quoted me. I had called them twice in the last two weeks, but they would give me no such fantastic pricing. Which naturally is when I got my kid to take over since I've long ago figured out that it is indeed a man's world out there. Sorry Gloria Steinem but it is what it is. 

I considered going over to my next door neighbor's house but was afraid her husband my be there. He's a pilot and has been out of town on his new schedule and it's been about 3 weeks since he was home. I love going there though, because their baby will soon be about a year old even though the wife is already making plans with her attorney to leave the husband after January, taking the baby with her, to live at her parents' house in a different state. Thus... I'm sort of expecting a nuclear war to go down when the hubby returns one day to find wife and kid kaput. Now THERE'S a soap opera waiting to happen.

I did get a kick out of George Zimmerman being in front of a judge once again. I love watching his misery piling on over and over and over. Geez... this guy had GOT to be the biggest joke of all time. For someone who wanted to be a part of law enforcement, he's involved in the law alright. Just on the wrong side of it. What an idiot.


So that was pretty much my day, Dear Diary of mine. I guess I better go wind down now so I can shower and get ready for bed since tomorrow Susan, Claudia and I will head over to Old Navy and then grab some lunch. Best part of tomorrow will be that Teresa will be here when I wake up. YAY. Better yet.. NEXT Wednesday I'll wake up to go pick up my kid from the airport! Have already got my Manly List of Things To Do pretty much completed. Of course I just hope I'll be able to find it. 

PIE IN THE SKY

I totally love pies. Most of them anyway. I'd never do a potato pie nor a kidney pie however, since in my book, they aren't even pies to begin with. On the other hand, I do love chicken pot pies. 

But... if I could choose from some REAL sorts of pies, my alltime favorites would include either a cherry or a chocolate or a lemon or a pumpkin or a pecan pie. A couple of weeks ago, I chose cherry.

It went down like this: I originally wanted to make an apple pie since I had so many fresh apples in the house. I was just going dice them all up and add them to a store bought apple filling product, mixing it all together until boom. I'd bake a sorta semi-fresh homemade apple pie. Already I was smelling the aroma filling the house. Except for one major glitch, however.

When I got to the gourmet grocery store, there WAS no apple pie filling in the aisle. There was only cherry. And... pretty much fancy schmancy cherry too, given the packaging. Not to mention the pricing. Soooo... 1-2-3 my mind thought: HMMMM... APPLE CHERRY PIE. NOW HOW BAD CAN THAT BE?? Pretty good, right?? So bingo. I bought two jars of the cherry filling and raced home to my kitchen to make the delight of the century.

OMG. WHAT A GREAT DECISION I APPARENTLY MADE. I brought home the jars of cherry filling, chopped up the apples, mixed them together and zippo. I added this mixture to my pie tin that I had already lined with pie dough. Store bought of course, but it doesn't even matter. AND... to make sure the top layer of dough was equal to the fancy cherry/apple filling, I even did an egg wash on top before I pinched the sides and vented the top. Whoa... IT LOOKED SO GREAT.

Next I popped it into the awaiting oven and the next thing I know... not only was it done BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY it was by far THE BEST cherry pie I've ever ever tasted!! OMG. I was in sheer heaven. I was also HORRIBLY ADDICTED. I could NOT stop eating this delicious pie! Totally in my glory. No wonder. Just LOOK at the finished product up there in the picture. Well, what was left of it, anyway. 

My biggest fear of course was that I'd finish the entire huge pie in mere MINutes. Seriously... I so could have. Thank GOD for restraint. In fact, I deserve an f'ing medal for stringing it out to 6 days before I downed the entire treat. It was like every damn time I walked past this pie I just HAD to take at least one bite. Which I did for each of the 6 days it lasted. Seriously... I just couldn't get enough of it.

Man was this so damn delicious it's crazy. I so have to make another for Thanksgiving even though I'm not even dining at home that night. Just having it around will make my holiday even happier. The cherries were just the right tartness, the apples were just the right sweetness and the crust was astounding. In fact, when Claudia saw it she didn't even believe I made it, given it was so professional looking. I could SO make this my meal 3 times a day... plus my midnight snack... if only the Calorie Gods would let me.   


Now that I think of it... this cherry pie might even have to take precedence over the Famous Chocolate Wafer log cake I make and trust me... THAT is pretty damn delicious as well. On the other hand... yippee. Just a couple more weeks and I get to taste... tada!... some pumpkin and pecan pie, too! Come the New Year I should be plenty roly poly for sure. As if I even care.

THE KILLING MACHINE

See that machine up there? It's what they call an elliptical training machine. Totally opposite of my core training class btw, given that in core, our bodies ARE the machines. We use our OWN core muscle strength. Which is an idea I totally love, but who's counting.

In any case... on Tuesday I decided I wanted to use my free Medicare Silver Sneakers membership card at a local gym so I could build up some cardio, endurance, stamina, etc. etc. Walking on a treadmill would probably be just as good, but my according to my kid, the elliptical is even better. Given I'd never been on the elliptical, I had no clue how to use this machine and needed some instruction. Bingo. Turns out even an idiot could figure it out but whatever.

And... to make it even better, Betsy is at the gym on Tuesdays since she has a yoga class there. Thus I told her PERFECT. YOU DO THE YOGA CLASS. I'LL LEARN HOW TO DO THE ELLIPTICAL AND WHEN WE'RE FINISHED WE'LL WALK ACROSS THE STREET TO HAVE LUNCH TOGETHER. Yippee. It would be great. Uh... until I wanted to die, that is.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? YOU THINK I CAN POSSIBLY LAST ON THIS MACHINE??? OMG. It was killing me! I wanted to die, and I said so the entire time I was on it. Which by the way was MERE MINUTES. I was absolutely EXHAUSTED within seconds. I mean it. It was crazy. Plus... during those mere minutes? Trust me. I must have taken four breaks, easily. I was STUNNED at apparently how totally out of shape I am, cardiologicallly speaking. Especially since I do core each week AND yoga almost nightly. 

According to the Linda School of Fitness I need to go use this machine every three hours just to build up to a five minute workout! Seriously. If YOU think you're in tip top shape, I highly recommend you go try this out as a complete test of how you, like me, might be totally living in LaLa Land, fooling yourself. Who KNEW I could be this short of passing out altogether? Anyway...

While Betsy was in the yoga class, I was on this machine. And so was Hildie... a gray haired lady of about 75 who was in the row behind me, watching me pant and suffer. It was only after Betsy's class did Hildie come up to me and say: OH GUESS WHAT. YOU WERE ON THE HARDEST ELLIPTICAL IN THE WHOLE PLACE. YOU NEED TO GO TO THE ROW I WAS ON AND USE THOSE MACHINES INSTEAD. Now she tells me. Not only was SHE going a hundred miles an hour but so was the guy next to me and now that I think of it, so was EVERYONE there. Plus... they all were on it for a minimum of about 25 minutes. I was a complete LOSER in this entire gym of oldie goldie grey haired Silver Sneakers. Talk about embarrassing.

So that was last Tuesday. THIS Tuesday I will try this again, but I can see already it won't do shit for me unless I go almost every day, every three hours. I WANTED to go more often last week, but I was so busy that I just never got around to it. Which only means: by the next time I get to the gym, it's possible that I'll want to pass out even SOONER than last week. VERY possible, in fact.


Man. Whoever made up this machine was either THE fitness guru of all time or the most f*ucked guy on the planet. But give me time... I'm pretty sure I'll work up to a six minute workout eventually. It's the SIXTY minute workout that I'll never see. Ever.

JUANITA

If ever you've read THE HELP then you'd pretty much know Juanita. Except of course that my Mother would NEVER tell her not to eat from our dishes, use our silverware or to not use a bathroom inside our house.

Juanita worked for my mother for what? 35 years maybe?? Five days a week she'd come to our home and when she first became a part of our family I'd say I was about 13 years old. First there was Ada, then there was Hazel and then there was Rosalie and then finally there was Juanita. I remember Rosalie mostly because she'd always say to me while I was in the family room watching TV: UNFOOT THE TABLE. Meaning: get my dirty feet off the cocktail table that she probably just cleaned. I also remember she cooked the alltime best fried chicken you'd ever want to eat. And while I always liked Rosalie...

I loved Juanita. We all did. As did all our children, too. She was a part of three generations in our family: my parents, then my siblings and then all of our children. In fact maybe four because she also knew Laura's children. Juanita was simply the kindest housekeeper you could ever ask for. Except when she told my Mother I swore like a sailor, but whatever. She was so loved in fact, that way back when, when my parents moved from Miami, they gave Juanita a bonus of about $10,000 for all her years of working for them.

In the meantime I loved Juanita so much that when Hurricane Andrew struck and Juanita's house was left practically in smithereens, I had her move in with my family and myself for about six months and Bob, Claudia and I helped her to get the house rebuilt. I will never forget the work Claudia and I did filling out all the insurance papers, following up with contractors, etc. etc. so we could be sure no one scammed a single, uneducated black woman.  I just wished to hell I had a picture of Juanita that I could show you but I wouldn't even know where to begin to look for one. I will tell you however that Juanita is now 85 years old.

And... I spoke to her this morning. I couldn't beLIEVE how strong her voice sounded. Nor how absolutely thrilled she was that I had called. I was equally thrilled, too. I speak to her maybe every 10 months or so. She loves hearing all about the family, our kids, and now the kids of our kids. From Laura to my son... and every child in between, Juanita was there.

In fact, after I finish writing this, I have to scan a zillion pictures to send to her so she can see an updated version of us all. BTW... when Juanita first asked how everyone was I of course had to tell her: FORGET ABOUT THEM. THE BIGGEST NEWS IS THAT CLAUDIA AND I HAD A FACE LIFT!! So naturally, that's the first picture I'll have to scan. I know... priorities, right?? 

I keep telling Juanita I'll pay for her ticket to come up and see me but I just know she won't. Even if I went down there to get her, I bet she still wouldn't come. Damnit. I guess I'll just have to get my ass back down to South Florida and visit her myself. Besides... I remember taking Juanita out to dinner and she was always self conscious, not realizing race relations in the 90s were not those of the 50s. She'd never tell me that but I pretty much sensed it anyway.

I have no clue how much longer Juanita will be alive but I can tell you one thing... whenever she does pass away, I'll be sadder than you'd ever think. I've lost my brother, my Mother, my Father and even my best friend for 45 years, Linda. Who by the way Juanita surely knew. But... when I lose Juanita then that'll sadly, pretty much clear out a huge portion of my life.


I miss so many people who have left me that it makes me cry. And I just so don't want to cry yet again whenever Juanita is gone. On the other hand... I'll bet Juanita herself won't be all that broken up given she truly believes she'll be back with her Maker. Man... talk about a silver lining. Well... for her... certainly not for me. 

I'LL KEEP THIS SIMPLE

Every Republican is basically a racist.
Ted Cruz is an arrogant, fanatical egotist.
Mitch McConnell is a manipulative, frightening liar.
John Boehner is a fucking pussy.

The End.

QUICK. CALL JACKIE!

I'm pretty horrified. Have you SEEN Caroline Kennedy lately?? Granted... Cher has her plate filled but plenty what with Chaz becoming a HE and all. But if you ask me... Jackie would also have a full plate in the Caroline department. As in: WHAT?? WTF IS WITH ALL THE WRINKLES TOTALLY FILLING CAROLINE'S FACE?? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? This is nuts especially since this is one the milder shots of her. I'm telling you... in eight more years she'll be Eunice Shriver all over again. So not a pretty picture.

First of all... when the hell did Caroline Kennedy get old enough to even HAVE wrinkles?? I'm utterly stunned. Second of all... since she DOES have these all these completely unattractive wrinkles... OMG. GET RID OF THEM IMMEDIATELY. Jackie would never have allowed this look were she still alive to see them. She'd never have allowed them on herself thus she'd never allow them on Caroline either. Which of course is where I come in. A johnny-on-spot substitute mother who needs to give Caroline a heads' up on: OOPS. TIME FOR DR. FIXIT, MY SWEET. I mean seriously. Why would Caroline even opt for such a look?

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know. She's famous and wealthy and brilliant and all that. But still... does she not own a mirror? I mean I'm sure if Jackie were around I could almost guarantee you that she'd be hauling Caroline off to a plastic surgeon in a New York minute. Especially since Caroline's body is still so great looking. The poor thing is 10 years younger than I am and my face is not even CLOSE to having these sort of wrinkles. My ass and thighs? Absolutely. They both look pretty much like a Chinese Shar-Pei but my face is basically wrinkle free. And it was even BEFORE Dr. Harley.

Anyway, I'm thinking that especially now, since Caroline is our new Ambassador to Japan, this would be a great time to rid herself of looking so damn OLD. God knows... given her reported worth of over $250 million dollars... she could well afford such a nip and tuck. Not even her husband Ed Schlossberg can guide her in this matter either, since they've supposedly pretty much lived apart for years now. But whatever.

All I know is that I was shocked when I saw this and other picts. For obviously.... if Caroline is looking so old you can only imagine what that means for my own particular look. And age. Jesus... this so can't be good news. I really do wish Maria Shriver would just call Caroline and give her some good 'ole cousin-ly advice.


Oh. By the way... I'm tickled pink that Caroline will be our liaison to Japan. My Mother would have been too, given Mom's Japanese heritage. Although I can tell you right now... Mom's best advice for our new ambassador would definitely be: QUICK. GET TO A DOCTOR.      

BLACK IS THE BEST REVENGE

I'm sure most women have one fantastic black dress in their wardrobe. If not... they absolutely should. Man... this one little item can carry you to a zillion places for a zillion reasons. Anywhere from a quiet little cocktail party at home to a major dinner party at the White House. Not to mention all the events in between. Mine can actually be dressed up or dressed down and can go to not only dinner parties but also to a happy matinee or even a sad funeral. In fact, I have about 5 black dresses and I wear them all. I totally love them.

Apparently Princess Diana had a little black dress that she loved as well. Granted HERS was pretty damn  formal and frankly there is no way whatsoever she could dress this one down. THIS one was strictly for fancy schmancy. It's drop dead gorgeous and I don't even want to tell you when she wore this number up above because to me... anyone who doesn't already know where, must be living under a rock. A big rock, too. Boy... did Diana ever pull out all stops that night.

NO WONDER THE MEDIA CALLED IT THE "REVENGE DRESS".

And man were they ever right on target. This is definitely one of the alltime best revenge dresses EVER. Diana deserves a fucking medal. Why? Because basically.... while Diana had had this dress for a long time, she never wore it until THE night she needed it most.The night she was seeking total revenge. As in: THE night Charles went on TV and publicly admitted to his entire empire he was having an affair. With Camilla, of course. You'd have thought THAT would have been the headline of the century, right?

But oh no... not so fast. Timed with absolute precision, while Charlie was busy confessing to the entire world he had been cheating on Diana for years... that was practically the exact moment Diana donned this dress for the first time, to attend a Vanity Fair party. THAT my friend was the headline the next morning. And whoa did she ever look spectacular in it. This was SO an F YOU CHARLES sort of dress!! I was in crazy ass glory for Diana that night.

Mainly because once again... Charlie was upstaged by this glamorous, stunning woman. Something that Charles HATED. Always. YEA DIANA. YOU GO GIRL. Granted. I totally get it that many many people have affairs and fall in love, etc. etc. BUT... I have heard of NO one who was ever in the throes of all this deceit the night right smack before his wedding to a new bride. Let alone while on their honeymoon, as well!! Is he out of his fucking MIND?? Man. He couldn't even wait til the marriage was at least on the rocks or something?? He just had to jump right smack into it all during the engagement?? F YOU CHARLES AND I WASN'T EVEN THE ONE MARRYING YOU.

Anyway... Charles makes me sick to my stomach for pulling such crap on Diana, thus I can't even waste time talking about him. Instead... I hail Diana for sticking it to him, but good. The entire world went NUTS when they saw her in this black dress and I was filled with sheer delight for her. I'm telling you... the right dress for the right moment for the right reason... bingo. You score a home run IMMEDIATELY. Talk about waving you right on into home base.

Which reminds me... there are some other dresses I also totally love. A couple of these, you have already seen, btw. I mean... you SHOULD have already seen. Again... show stoppers. Stunning. Home runs. Right dress for the right reactions. I also threw in a couple you may not recognize but knock my socks off as well.  

Now... if only I had a body and/or if I were totally famous boom. I'd buy these in a heart beat. Hoping to then of course make some dashing, tall, handsome man's heart REALLY start to beat.

MAIN FOCUS

Care to guess what Marlene Dietrich, Doris Day, Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett... just to name a few.. have in common? Basically it all boils down to: at some point in their lives they decided to do their photos in SOFT FOCUS. To sorta hide the fact they were aging, had imperfections or whatever. 

These women never considered a soft lens when they were young. They didn't need to. But when they became MY age? Oh man... they so turned soft. So to speak.

In the meantime... get this. MY TIME TOO, HAS COME. Seriously. Soft focus is definitely the way to go with this recent photo of me! Check it out up there and see for yourself. I'm telling you... I do believe it makes a major difference. EEEKS. Yet another reason proving I'm no longer a spring chicken. On the other hand... I totally love this concept.

First of all... I am ALWAYS on a perpetual quest to have a really pretty picture taken of myself. And the reason the quest is always ongoing is quite simple: I have yet to ever actually have had one taken. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. There are plenty of so called decent enough snapshots of me to be found but not necessarily a fantastically beautiful one. Second of all however... until I do, I am now so sticking with this soft focusing bit for SURE. It's definitely a fanTAStic temporary solution to the aging process. Third of all, I always say... until the day comes that I begin to look like Nicole Kidman... I'll simply have to continue on my personal photo journey. And believe me. I have no visions of grandeur here. I totally know I'll never be a Nicole lookalike. Ever. Damnit.

No wonder. I'm getting old. Don't even ask. Granted... the pretty photo search of myself is WAY down on my list of items that prove I'm now 65. There apparently is far more weighty proof at hand. For instance... I basically remember nothing anymore. HUH? WHAT DID I COME IN HERE FOR?? Better yet... WAIT. WHAT WAS I JUST TELLING YOU?? Worst of all... REALLY?? WHEN DID I SAY THAT?? Or even NOW WTF DID THEY JUST TELL ME AGAIN?? I'm telling you... my mind is either filled with such garbage or I'm headed to the looney bin but fast.

Another way in which I know I'm 65 is that I accomplish way less in a day than I did in my 30s and 40s lets say. Back in those days, I could wake up at eight in the morning and go all day long filling the time with hordes of activities. NOW however? Geez. It's crazy. Three or four tasks and bingo. I'm ready for a time out. Let alone a nap. In the meantime however... it's becoming more and more clear. I'M GETTING OLD.


Although the good news is: I now see I think I can maybe fake my aging a bit thanks to the soft focusing feature in so much software. I don't even need a soft lens anymore in a camera! I want to look younger? Boom. I'll just import the picture and yippee. I'll simply soften it myself and suddenly 1-2-3. I'm years younger! Well, kinda. 

Oh yeah. Here's another pict of me from the other night also done in soft focus. Something tells me however that everyone I was with that evening had a pretty good idea I was definitely in my mid sixties. No wonder. They were looking at me BEFORE I became artifically focused. Which is too bad since try as I may... I can only fool some of the people some of the time.

OMG. AGAIN????

There is nothing more I can add to this fucking van saga which is being lived out right next door to me. One look at this and you can only iMAGine my reaction when I saw it earlier today. Don't even ASK. WFT is going ON with this car roof anyway?? First the van itself. Then the tailgate party for one. Then this. Holy shit. I may have to go throw up altogether.

MUSCLE MAN

I sorta wished I were a man. And no. I don't have penis envy. I'm perfectly thrilled with my female parts and feminine persona.

Instead... I apparently have muscle envy. Which I guess would give Freud an equal amount of reason for deep psychoanalysis but whatever. Feminism notwithstanding, I just can't believe how much easier life can be for men on all sorts of levels. But in this particular case... I'm talking life being easier for men because of their: Muscle Power. I'm totally jealous of it.

Case in point: a couple of weeks ago I had a wonderful two day a visit with Joshua. My alltime favorite step son. He's actually 8 years older than my own son and I've known Joshua since he was about 4 years old. He's now almost 40. Gulp. Anyway... their father had PLENTY of muscle strength and apparently he's passed that on to his two sons. 

Plus... I just have to add that it was pretty freaky after spending years and years staring down when speaking to these boys, I eventually found that by the time they were in their early teens... EEKS... I had to actually begin looking UP at them. It's a crazy ass switch up, let me tell you. And it definitely put a glitch into trying to reprimand a kid who now stood way taller than you and who could almost pick you up and hurl you clear cross the room if they wanted. Although in my case that so could never happen. I may have been shorter than these boys, but am pretty sure I was heavier than they. Just my luck. But regardless...

By the time the boys were teenagers... OMG did they ever have muscles! You could see their strength right smack on their arms, their muscles getting bigger and bigger thus becoming stronger and stronger. It was simply incredible. Rarely would they EVER need help in moving furniture, TVs, mirrors, etc. etc. Granted I find women smarter, often more mature and/or rational in their thinking... and many times more kind hearted. But as far as physical strength? Oh man... the men have it way over me. And probably way over you, too.

Thus you can only imagine how thrilled I am even today, whenever I can ask one of the boys to do something for me that requires muscles and bingo. 1-2-3 they're able to do the task with absolutely no trouble at all. As in several days ago, when I needed Joshua to lift my major heavy class table top out on the deck. Turns out we needed to put the rug back under the table base. I myself could never do it in a million years. Joshua on the other hand? BOOM. He lifted that table top as if he were lifting a mere toothbrush. I just couldn't get over it! And I said so for about the next 23 minutes. I was simply amazed. It was like: NEED TO LIFT A TRUCK?? SURE. I CAN DO IT. JUST STEP ASIDE PLEASE.

Not only that... but were I to ever take the shovel to dig a BIG hole in the ground to plant my two potted hydrangea plants, it could have easily taken me weeks. Plus I'd be sporting a massive back pain like you couldn't believe. But Josh?? Man... he got that deep, big hole dug in no time, with as much ease as if he were scooping ice cream. I'm not saying he might have not perspired some, but still... his muscles allowed him to do these tasks lickety split. No huffing. No puffing. No panting. No swearing. No problems.

Ergo: my muscle envy. Geez... now that I think about it... I SHOULD have had Joshua help me move my bedroom dresser while he was here. I just BET that behind there somewhere is my favorite big black ring that I totally love and haven't found for over a year now. Or maybe it's behind the head of my bed whose mattress by the way is so heavy it once literally knocked me over onto the floor and broke my glasses. For my kids? Would have been easy as pie to flip a mattress. For me?? It bordered on life threatening.

So my bottom line take on all this is basically that no matter HOW many Wheaties I eat... there is absolutely no way I'd ever have the kind of muscles that men do. Not even my core training would help. Especially given I can work out with only the mere 8 pound weights I use. 10 pounds in each hand? OMG. I'd be a basket case altogether. Which leads me to conclude: Yes. Compared to men I may be way more emotional. Way more sensitive. Way more girly.


And apparently... way more of a weakling. 

ABOUT FACE

Believe me... I'm all in favor of improving one's face as one grows older. I did it myself actually and man, am I ever thrilled I took the plunge. The improvement has been remarkable, indeed. Notice I said improvement. Not: a totally different looking face altogether. And not a face that in fact even looks worse then when you started. Aren't you supposed to be able to at least reCOGnize the person when all is said and done?? Uh... I'm voting: yes. 

Which is why I'm utterly stunned at the new look on John Kerry's face. WTF? He should SO get his money back from his doctors. They ruined him! Seriously. See that picture of John up above? That's what he's SUPPOSED to look like. But after God only knows what procedures he's had done, he looks nothing like that at ALL anymore. EEKS. Actually, I frankly smell: law suit. Just saying.

My take is his doctors might have done a facelift alright, but even more, they also did Botox?? Restylane?? Juvederm?? Oh man... the list could go on and on. All I know is that whatever they did, John Kerry looks HORRIBLE. Not that he was any gem to begin with but whoa. What's he's sporting NOW is pretty much unacceptable, if you ask me. Here: check out his results and YOU tell me if you think this qualifies as "improvement". God knows I don't.

I of course had to listen to John during the entire congressional hearing about Syria yet I can only give you a lackluster overview of what he said. Why?? Because I was TRANSFIXED on his new face, that's why! OMG. I can't even imagine what the Senators must have been thinking to themselves while questioning this completely new looking Mr. Secretary. Chuck Hagel? Good. HE looks like himself. John Kerry?? HELP. WHERE IS HE? This so can't be him.

Except it was. Which doesn't bode well for his doctors, if you ask me. They appear to be the kind I'd personally run from. Have they never heard of the word ... uh... NATURAL?? Apparently not.

On the other hand, it appears that for now, John's questioning and subsequent House vote is all for naught given WWIII is temporarily on the back burner. Thank God. Seriously... this chemical warfare garbage pretty much can't be good if it is to continue. Which btw... has me in a dilemma, for sure. GOING TO WAR AGAIN?? Geez... I am way too war weary to even think about it. Although I'm also too weary to think of what might happen if we DON'T tackle this situation SOMEhow. Honest to God... the folks in the Mid East are out of their ever loving MINDS at this point. I just don't what to think anymore. Thus... I won't.


Instead I'm thinking that in just a little while Joshua will be here for a couple of days! YIPPEE. It's going to be great and I can't wait. It's also going to be great since I KNOW he at least will be sporting his REAL face... so unlike our freaky looking Secretary of State.  

PARTY OF ONE

Oh my God. Here I go again and I can not believe it. IT JUST GOT WORSE.

First I bitched about having my next door neighbor's disgusting van parked in his driveway every damn day of the year and NOW I'm ready to slit my wrists altogether. As if the van wasn't enough I JUST ABOUT FREAKED last Sunday when I saw THIS. I mean THAT. That up there in the picture up above. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Now he's added A TAILGATE TENT?? Shit... this is getting major ridiculous.

I can't TELL you what an eye sore this is! I HATE IT. And I hate the guy who's doing this, too. I like the wife though, but whatever. In the meantime...

Turns out the guy's son has just begun college. Care to guess which one?? Time's up. CLEMSON, OF COURSE. Although I must tell you all this adulation to Clemson began decades ago when the first of three generations began attending the school. Apparently celebrating this school is first on their list of reasons to party hearty. Man... talk about obsessing on the mundane. Trust me... the van is this guy's dearest possession of all time. And now... so is the tent. 

I just WISHED I could walk up the the neighbor and tell him... GET RID OF THIS PIECE OF CRAP. It's totally unattractive. It's juvenile. And it's ruining my view of what happens to be an otherwise stunning neighborhood. In fact... the people on the OTHER side of his house are in the midst of selling their home. Were it me.... I'd tell my neighbor: YOUR BULLSHIT VAN IS KEEPING ME FROM MAKING A SALE. MOVE THIS EYESORE IMMEDIATELY! Of course I have no clue whatsoever what effect the van being parked in the driveway actually has had in sales, but it can't possibly be GOOD. 

You know how people hire hit men to do in folks they no longer want them around? I would HAPPILY pay someone in a minute to come and either key the entire van, blow out the entire engine or even shoot holes all through this monstrosity. Well... okay. Bullet holes are a bit much, but if someone ELSE ordered it, I'd be tap dancing all around the block but good. As for the tailgating tent... WHAT THE HELL IS HE THINKING?? And btw... don't think for one minute that I didn't notice the tent is set up with just one chair. Gives a whole new meaning to: PARTY OF ONE alright.  


In the meantime, I guess I'd be pretty damn happy with Clemson just having a total losing season this year. That ought to freak the neighbor out, for sure. Except already... they're two for two. Damnit. 

A TOWN CRIER

It's a few minutes after five as I begin writing this entry. Not the time I'd normally be doing it, btw. And, the only reason I AM doing it now is because I'm totally bummed with MSNBC. I just can't believe how they've completely screwed me and I'm so not happy about it.

As it happens, I pretty much have a great time line for my days. I get up none too early, I usually catch lunch with a friend, I do whatever errands I might need, go to Dr. appointments maybe, perhaps do some shopping, or do chores around the house, etc. etc. And... I get this all done so that by the end of the day... about five o'clock... I can unwind some while listening to the Chris Matthews Show at five o'clock. This pattern has worked beautifully for YEARS especially given that I can then easily move right into the six o'clock local news and bingo. I'm then all ready for the six thirty national news. It basically works like a charm for a news junkie like myself.

Well... it DID anyway. Now?? Now I'm so pissed I can't believe it. Wanna guess why?? Get this. MSNBC decided to take my favorite news anchor and all of an effin' sudden move Chris to the SEVEN O'CLOCK time slot!!! AbsoLUTELY screwing up my day altogether. I can't even believe it. WHAT?? MY FIVE O'CLOCK STARTING TIME FOR NEWS IS GONE? CHRIS MATTHEWS IS NO LONGER MY LEAD IN TO ENDING THE DAY?? And... if THAT'S not enough, who do they put in his place?? THIS JERK WHO I HATE, ED SCHULTZ. Oh man... so not my favorite guy at all. I can't stand anchors who shout into the camera exactly like Rev. Al Sharpton does, btw. ANOTHER guy I refuse to listen to. My take always is: Al thinks he's still giving sermons to seniors who can no longer hear, sitting way in the back of a church or something. I totally hate him and am STUNNED MSNBC would even hire this guy. Besides... he's not even bright.

Anyway, all this switch up began yesterday and I am telling you: I am so lost with what to do during the time I'm SUPPOSED to be catching up on five o'clock national political news. I'm like a child lost in the woods. I can't do Wolf Blitzer on CNN. I can't do local TV that early. I can't do sitcom reruns. And... I apparently can't do anything but want to slit my wrists altogether. Bottom Line: I don't know WHAT to do until seven when Chris comes on.

Besides... if I'm going out to dinner, I won't even BE home to catch the show. How will I know which Republican to hate? Or who's next in asking for a revote to rescind Obama Care? Better yet... how will I know what stupid assholey thing Ted Cruz is spouting today? My news intake is supposed to be FINished by seven. Not beginning. Geez. I so hate all this. By the time the 2016 elections come, I'll be ready to shoot myself altogether. 

All this kinda reminds me when my alltime favorite perfume at the time... Anne Klein II... was completely taken off the market without any notice at ALL. Thursday I could walk up to a department store counter, buy the beautifully scented perfume and smell delightful within moments. On Friday however?? NEVER AGAIN to be seen at counters, ever. I WAS IN UTTER SHOCK FOR MONTHS. Which is probably when I moved right on into Opium by Yves St. Laurent. Granted it cost 4x the amount of money, but frankly I still wear it to this day and totally love it, still. Anyway... that's not the point.

The point NOW is... I am simply astounded that MSNBC would make such a horrible blunder as to go through with this scheduling switch up. IT SUCKS. Much like Ed Shultz. I wouldn't watch this guy if you paid me. Soooo...


Now I'm at a complete loss of how to bring my day to an end. It's times like these, btw, that I only WISHED I were into martinis or crazy ass hard liquors. At least then, I'd be able to wind down like other people do. Get plastered, munch on nuts and chips and sink into a recliner for hours and hours of watching TV for the entire evening. Instead... I now have to actually find something LEGITIMATE to do at five o'clock as in heaven forbid... go to the gym and get on the treadmill. All I know is I see now that I'm giving a whole new meaning to the Town Crier. Oh I'm crying alright... just not all around the town. Instead... in my very own living room. Beginning at five.

NEED FIBER??

Oh man... what an idiot I am. As it happens, last night the evening just got away from me although where the time went, I really don't know. Nor does it even matter. What DOES matter is that I definitely learned a life lesson. A lesson about fiber, that is. And not the textile kind of fiber, either. I'm talking the kind that can rip your stomach to pieces in just one unsuspecting meal. Which is basically what happened to me. Don't even ask.

I can't even remember exactly what time it was, but all of a sudden, about 10:00 lets say, I realized I hadn't had dinner. Bingo. I was STARVING. Thus... I immediately sort of combed through my refrigerator for something great to eat and lo and behold what should I find but YIPPEE... my alltime favorite. Left over black beans. I had a dinner party recently and I probably made enough for 10-12, so God only knows how much was stored in the leftover container. Which basically meant: I could help myself to as many beans as I possibly wanted, to put all over the rice I had just made. And, I did. Ergo: after heating the black beans in the microwave and topping the rice, I had a fantastic meal to devour and adore.

On the other hand... apparently I've got big eyes when I'm starved because I just kept heaping and heaping the beans right smack on top of the rice until I basically had a portion big enough to probably feed any family of four. Next thing you know however... I sat down and downed the entire plate totally happy and completely full.

AND THEN IT BEGAN.

Oh. My. God. Do THEY ever know what they're talking about when they say beans make you pop all over the place. It was crazzzzzy. POP. POP. POP POP POP. I seriously thought my entire insides were going to explode! And.... if that wasn't enough, a couple of hours later when I did my yoga session... Holy Baholy. You have no idea. Let's just say that apparently yoga practice serves to expel every ounce of extra air and/or beans within your entire body. For a LIFETIME I'm guessing. I was in Black Beans Hell.

Jesus. I just don't know what to say. Other then... get this. I was also up THREE TIMES during the night to go to the bathroom! And even today... my stomach was churning way more than I wanted. All I could think of was that surgical procedure I had seven years ago for bowel re-sectioning. Can you even imagine?? Of course I didn't let any of this stand too much in my way tonight as I downed champagne and delicious cake at a celebration I attended. Although trust me. I bet I"ll pay for it later. In the meantime...


All I can tell you is that if you happen to need any sort of pretend colonoscopy prep, boy do I ever have a meal for you to consider. As for fiber being the secret to good digestive health... I now see there are two sides to the story. Eat a normal portion? Bingo. You're fine. Eat a mother load portion? Uh... good luck with THAT. And oh yeah... try to stay away from people for at least 12 hours. 

So now?? Now all I can do is pray I'll be fine in a couple of days so I can hopefully eat black beans all OVER AGAIN. I so totally love them. Pop or no pop.

MY PERSONAL PHOTOGRAPHER

How much do I love this picture of me? I can't even believe it... especially since SO many pictures of me totally suck. I think my biggest problem is that when I either look in the mirror or at a picture of myself, I am basically expecting and/or hoping to see Nicole Kidman's image staring back at me. Or maybe Gweneth Paltrow, even. Not only do I find these women to be nothing short of stunning but OMG... THOSE BODIES! I would kill for such looks.

In the meantime of course, I will never attain such standards of beauty so when I DO come across a picture of me that kinda resembles SOME sort of decency, I'm tickled pink. As with the picture of me up above. Granted it's nothing to rave about but what I like about it is that to me, it captures what I'm all about when I'm running around living my life. As in: happy to be spending some money. Happy to be wearing something nice and comfortable. Happy to know I didn't just quickly run out of the house looking major crappy, hoping I don't run into anyone.

On this particular day I was running around in Staples. Which is where I also ran into Harry... a friend of mine. He had just gotten a new camera and was thrilled to be able to grab a picture of me which btw, took three times before he had me centered correctly. Don't ask. Anyway, I stood there, smiled, and bingo. He snapped this shot. Then of course, he emailed the finished product to me later that day. I took one look at it and thought... WHOA. THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I SEE WHEN I LOOK INTO A MIRROR. Granted I'm not saying I'm THRILLED to be seeing this, but regardless... like it or not... I guess this is what I look like. Oh yeah... I suspect I'm smiling because I just found the exact sized Post-It Notes I was looking for.

In the meantime, I never leave the house without my own camera. Something Harry and I have in common, actually. I just never know what I'll see when I'm out and about and it would kill me if I saw something fantastic only to realize... Damnit. My camera's at home. Thus bingo. I always keep it in a side pocket of my purse. How else would I have been able to capture the shot of the horse drawn carriage that you normally only see Downtown, during evenings hours? On that particular night the carriage was traveling ON A RESIDENTIAL STREET THAT I TRAVEL ALL THE TIME! And... there were two love struck people in the carriage, too. I was stunned when I saw it about a month ago and I just HAD to take a picture of the event. Thinking I might even blog about it one day, btw. 


The funny thing is that almost no one uses a real camera anymore. They use their CELL PHONE instead! And it just kills me that some of the phones take pictures that are simply terrific. Not mine of course but whatever. Which is why I adore my digital camera. And basically never leave home without it.

On the other hand, I guess I COULD use my phone camera when in WalMart should I ever come across some of those beauties I happen to get in email. Seriously.... are those people GROSS or what? Frankly if you ask me... those people are just what you DON'T want to capture on film. Ever.  

WBF

Ever wonder why I look so damn fit? So damn trim? So damn muscular? Well while you... and just about everyone else I know... find these questions pretty damn comical, given I am SO not trim, muscular, etc., I do have to say that whatever the hell sort of health I AM in, it's pretty much thanks to Ansley. For she is the one who owns WHOLE BODY FITNESS and for the past couple of years, I've been going to her for my core training classes. Granted, I do have much BETTER core fitness than I ever did before I began, but man oh man. You should SEE some her students. They are FIERCE in their workouts and the more pain they can possibly endure... the happier they are.

I on the other hand am totally the worst student at the gym AND in my particular class but I don't even care. Everyone else feels pain and bingo. They work even harder to push their limits. Me? I feel the pain and merely say: Uh... thanks but no thanks. I think I'll pass on major aches and strain. I know. I'm such an asshole. But regardless...

As I was saying... my comical body toning is basically due to Ansley. Man is SHE ever one hell of a stunner. Plus... every muscle in her entire body is stoked to the hilt. It's enough to make you want to slit your wrists altogether. But whatever. In the meantime Ansley moved to a new location last April and we all totally love the new gym. Talk about ROOM. It's filled with all SORTS of training equipment and plenty of space for everyone to happily work out. And notice... I didn't say all sorts of machines. I said equipment. As in: items specifically made to make your BODY do all the work as opposed to steel mechanical contraptions doing the work out FOR you. Big difference for it's no easy feat, you can be sure. One hour of working out and plenty of times I need to come home and spend two hours recuperating.

Okay. So last Thursday I went to class and in this new roomy gym there now happens to be plenty of room for a workout clothing line of sorts. All kinds of stuff. Stuff that naturally I could never wear, but anyone else could.  And they actually do. I'm talking: skimpy! It turns out that over in the clothing section I recently happened to catch a glimpse of some Tshirts that were for sale. I took one look at them and whammo. I knew I had to buy one! WHAT A GREAT TAG LINE they had on the back. As in: 

LIVE SORE.

Is that fantastic for a gym or WHAT? For trust me... many a time I've left sore as hell! In fact, when I first started... I took Advil BEFORE I left the house just so I'd be in minimal pain AFTER I returned. Anyway, I just love when people come up with THE most clever thoughts or sayings and when I saw Live Sore I flipped. Talk about being able to identify. So that's the Tshirt in the picture up above. I know. Grey. Totally UGH and so not what I'd have chosen, which naturally would have been white. But no one asked me, so I rolled with the punches. 

Now mind you... normally I would NEVER wear a Tshirt. ESPECIALLY with some sort of bullshit written on it. It reminds me of what a 10 year old would wear. In fact, according to the Linda School of High Style NO woman with a grey root in her hair should ever don such a shirt style, but that's just me.

Hence my current dilemma: when to ever actually WEAR this Tshirt. I'm thinking maybe bedtime is the only option but even then I would never wear it. I like pretty or silky or at the very least calf length and 3/4 length sleeve. Likewise... I can't wear this shirt out in public given there is no shape whatsoever and besides, as I said... I'm no longer 10. I CAN wear it however with some minor modifications perhaps. Maybe. Thus just to sort of practice, I took the shirt and gave it my own sort of flair in the hopes maybe I can at least wear this to core training class. Once, anyway.

Creating this modification required my getting a scissor. And then... required cutting. As in: cutting out the sleeves and doing away with the crew neck in favor of a V neck. At least NOW maybe I can wear it over my leggings and shirt... kinda like a tunic top type look. Wanna see what I came up with?? Check this out:

       





Granted... it's not much better looking, I know. And, I still have some fine tuning yet to do on the shoulders but at least maybe I can now walk out my door and not look TOTALLY crappy. The key word here is: maybe. I still haven't worn it yet and don't know if ever I will. On the other hand... were I too ever see this in pale pink, a soft aqua, or even black I'd have a much better chance of wearing this in broad daylight.  


In closing let me just say other tag lines I also love are: CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?? Or: BECAUSE YOU'RE WORTH IT, which by the way IS my mantra. And oh yeah: WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS STAYS IN VEGAS. I must say by the way... one of the funniest tag lines I've ever heard was: Lick Me Til Ice Cream. LOLOL I still get a kick out that, even today.