MISS ME???

I haven't posted a blog entry in quite a while. God knows what I've been doing, but whether or not it's been anything of significance, the days still passed one by one, until boom. The next thing I knew, days became weeks. Which really isn't such a big deal, given I really had nothing earth shattering about which to write. Since I last wrote however, I HAVE made a few decisions:

1.) I am taking a hiatus from hosting my weekly KnitWits group. Every Tuesday night for the past three years, any where from 5-15 women would join me for a few hours as we nibbled, gossiped and knitted. It was a great way to spend a Tuesday evening. We celebrated birthdays, we made beautiful scarves, sweaters, hats and whatever else someone wanted. The prize for finishing a project was a trip to my candy bar dish where the KnitWit could chose a chocolate candy of their choice. We even debated at times, but most of all, we laughed. Then, last week, for some unknown reason, right out of the blue, I decided I was ready for a hiatus. NEWS ALERT: DON'T SHOW UP NEXT TUESDAY. I'll probably be in a luxurious bubble bath sipping some fine champagne, perhaps. Well, okay... probably diet coke.

2.) I am back into my daily practice of yoga. I love how I feel during my yoga routine and even more, I love how I feel when I've completed a session. I love the peace and calm yoga brings to me but most of all, I love knowing I can bend over and wrap my hands around my ankles with straightened knees. It lets me pretend I'm as flexible as any modern day teen. My other favorite position is sitting on bended knees, with my full weight resting the heels of my feet . I call it my Geisha Girl Pose.

3.) I decided to once again begin testing my blood sugar which is something I never do, regardless of doctor's orders. Boy, is SHE going to be surprised. I am normally a pretty lazy patient thus following doctor's orders usually go only as far as popping a pill to make myself feel better. As in: pain killers, antibiotics, allergy pills and of course the occasional anti-anxiety med. Any medical order that consists of nothing more than swallowing a small pill for a big result, is my kind of modern medicine.

4.) The last decision I made was done so while at a party a couple of days ago. I was having a great time, hanging with good friends and munching on delicious food. So good, in fact, that it took but maybe an hour or so when, boom. My ultra sensitive digestive system kicked in. Enter: Bathroom visit. While in this very nice bathroom, I was looking around and eeeks. What should I see? A HUGE UPRIGHT BATHROOM SCALE!! What?? People actually go out of their way to uh... get weighed??? Are they crazy?? Who on earth would ever want to KNOW such information?? It was then and there that I made my final decision: these friends... people whom I simple adore... must be absolutely full blown masochists! WHO KNEW? Folks actually WANT to check out their weight?? Jesus. In my book, that's just plain CRAZY! And, hopefully, being crazy is waaaay better than being masochistic.

WARHOL ON THE CHEAP

I was watching a show on TV today. One of the home decor shows. And I saw an idea that sorta caught my fancy. You're looking at it right next to this text. While you may think it's the turquoise coloring that makes it remarkable, it's actually something else, altogether.

First of all, on the TV show, they talked about taking a personal photo, zeroing in on just part of the face, blowing it up, colorizing it any color you want, making about 5 copies and then... hanging the photos in a uniform way on the wall. It's a kind of a cheapo way of getting a homemade Andy Warhol portrait. Anyway, it all sounded pretty interesting, so I got up and went right to the computer to create my OWN Warhol lookalike. What you're seeing is the finished piece. For a lot less than Andy would have charged. too. I'm thinking maybe I'll hang 5 of them above the headboard of my bed. All in different colors. Keyword: maybe.

Secondly, what I found most interesting, is that I even allowed this picture to be taken at all. Number one, I don't even think I have on any make up. Number two, what you don't see is that I'm wearing nothing but a spaghetti strap black nightgown. And number three... which is the reason the picture was taken in the first place... is the fact that you'd NEVER see me with my hair down. Thus... what makes this shot noteworthy. SO noteworthy in fact, that as you can see, folks apparently decided it required actual documentation.

And, it's a good thing they did. For, when searching my files for a picture of me that would, in fact, work best for my Warhol project, bingo. This was the only shot that was in the running. Which isn't saying much as far as how photogenic I may be. Regardless, I printed out an 8x10 picture but am far from making any final decision as to whether or not I should follow through on this decorating idea. Actually, to help make up my mind, I took the printed page and hung it up on the front of my upper oven. This way, I can stare at it to my heart's content, wondering if I should/should not complete this deal.

So... whether or not I ever hang my Warhol portraits above my bed, I just don't know. What I DO know however, is that you better take a good long look at this pict. 10 to 1, It's the last time you'll ever see me with my hair down for a lonnnnnng time yet to come.

GOING APE

The online dictionary states that going ape means: to become wildly excited or enthusiastic. I myself am adding the nuance whereby it connotes not only excitement, but HAPPY excitement, specifically. Which is why I am SOOO not going ape. Instead, I'm going ape s**t. And believe you me, that's a whole DIFFERENT story altogether. THAT word, the online dictionary defines as: to become agitated, upset, or enraged. In other words... FLIPPED FREAKIN' OUT.

Which is exactly how I've felt the past two hours. I've been subjected to such horror and panic while watching televsion that my heart is STILL pounding, as we speak. And, there's another hour yet to go which naturally, I won't be seeing.

What, you ask, has elicited such fear in me? The one movie I was dying to catch on HBO. THAT'S what. And now that I've caught it, get this... I thought I WOULD to die while watching it. Gee. Thanks, Hollywood.

There I was, all settled in, happily knitting a scarf for a special friend. I zipped through the channels, and lo and behold... what should JUST be starting, but... yippee! KING KONG! The movie I couldn't wait to see! Yup... this had all the makings of a fabulous way to spend a cozy couple of hours.

Jesus. What a fool I was. I had NO clue this version of King Kong wanted to tear your heart out. While the King Kong film of days gone by was actually kind of fun to watch, THIS one was fun to watch only if you consider terror and fear a good thing. I, of course, do not. In this new version, there are MAjor wild beasts, WAY uncivilizied tribes of people, voo-doo up the kazoo and all KINDS of crazy ass creatures. Kinda like Jurassic Park, but with pygmie type dregs of society inflicting unimaginable chaos while behaving comPLETly outta control. And, for your viewing pleasure, this tribal/beast madness goes on for at least an hour. WHAT?? THIS IS A MOVIE?? ARE THEY NUTS??

I swear to God... after investing two hours, I simply had to say ADIOS, PANDEMONIUM. Thanks, but no thanks. I was actually at a place where I had to truly protect myself since it WAS almost bedtime; and I sort of like going to bed withOUT the fear of nightmares. Which was too bad. I really would have liked to know what happened after all the people were eatten alive. Did the ape ever see New York? Did he develop a thing for the starlet? Did guy ever get to ... which is the main theme of the movie... make his film?

Alas, I'll apparently never know. But, I do know this. If you choose to watch this movie, grab your popcorn... AND your valium. You'll need it.

A WORLD OF FIRSTS

Many years ago, my step son once came home from college wearing a t-shirt with which I fell in love. It was a promotional shirt from a bank... First Union, maybe. On the back of the t-shirt was a huge list of all sorts of phrases connected with word FIRST. For some crazy reason, I became so intrigued with this list; probably because I thought it was one of the most clever things I'd ever seen. Besides, I do so admire imaginative advertising.

Apparently, the intrique stayed with me, even up until this very day. In fact, I've often tried to recreate this List of Firsts in my mind, wishing I could actually remember everything on Joshua's t-shirt. Which is pretty funny, given I can't even remember what the hell I did just yesterday. BUT... I'm not one to give up easily. Thus... I sat down last night, having decided to FINALLY recreate a list of any phrase with which one associates the word FIRST. I actually had a pretty good time working on it, too.

ANNOUNCEMENT! Below is the list! Check it out. Who knows... maybe you'll even be the first one to read it!

first aid
First Amendment
first and foremost
first and last
first appearance
first balcony
first step
first kiss
first look
first place
first in line
first thought
first time
first husband
first class
first act
first word
first base
first gear
first verse
first sign
First Commandment
first frost
first line
first off
first of all
first born
first love
First Lady
first name
first known
first chance
first person
First World War
first row
first date
First Noel
first punch
first chapter
first order
first half
first right of refusal
first sight
first generation
first priority
first impression
First Thanksgiving
first bite
First Family
first snow
first glance
first edition
first attempt
first quarter
first piece
first birthday
first row

I KNEW IT!

Finally. Someone has come to their senses and documented something I've contended for years. Money DOES buy happiness. "There is overwhelming evidence that money buys happiness," said economist Andrew Oswald of the University of Warwick in England. The main debate, he said, is how strong the effect is."

Yeah. Yeah. I know money is not the end all, but believe me... it can do alot to make you smile. Let alone, sleep well at night. I also know it doesn't buy you good health, but guess what. It CAN make sure you're seen by the best specialists in the country. Which I consider is an excellent way to at least get your foot in the right door. And, speaking of doors, I'm thinking I'll be way happier walking into the Ritz Carlton than walking into Motel 6. I'll also be a hell of a lot happier hiring an attorney more along the lines of Melvin Beli than my local Public Defender.

A year and a half ago, I actually had a real life revelation proving my personal theory. I had had major surgery and was pretty down in the dumps. Which is very unusual for me. ESPECIALLY on my birthday. Yet, there I was, on the day of my birthday, in plenty of pain, laying around and wearing some crappy nightgown. I took all sorts of calls from family and friends with birthday wishes but there was no denying I was in no mood for such frivolity. Well, not until 7 o'clock that evening, anyway.

There I was, looking and feeling pretty much like garbage, when bingo. The doorbell rang and one by one a bunch of friends walked in. With them was a parade of smiles, a birthday cake and... a birthday present. A really GREAT one, too. The kind that proved immediately, PRESENTS DO MAKE ME HAPPY! PRICEY ONES, ESPECIALLY. The gift, it turns out was a fabulous digital camera and I fell in love with it 1-2-3!!! Talk about a medical break through! I was suddenly prancing right on Cloud Nine and within MINUTES you'd have never thought I spent the day in apathetic doldrums. I'm so telling you... I was blowing out candles, making wishes, running all around getting drinks and simply howling with laughter like there was no tomorrow.

It was then that I confirmed everything about myself I had always suspected. Money, surprises and presents CAN bring me happiness. It can also bring me freedom, security, serenity and sanity. Which, to me, IS what happiness is all about.

THE HAPPY TOWN

Once upon a time, in a land way up in the cool mountain air, in a town both charming and happy, there lived a smiling group of many people. Now... these people didn't ALWAYS live in the mountains. First, they lived ALL over the big country, working hard, raising families, and sure enough, aquiring lots of money so they could all one day, gather together to celebrate (or soon to celebrate) their 65th birthday!

The 65th Birthday Celebrations in this beautiful, small town are always sure to be a big bash. Some invite LOTS of people. Some have smaller gatherings. Some have their parties at fancy restaurants while others enjoy a wonderful party at home. But whichever they choose, you can always be sure that the Birthday Boy or Girl is wearing a BIGGGG, happy smile. Why, you ask??

Well, for many reasons, actually. But probably the REAL reason these boys and girls are dancing all around is that FINALLY... THEY NO LONGER NEED TO PAY FOR HIGH COST MEDICAL INSURANCE POLICIES! YIPPPEE! THEY ARE NOW ACTUALLY TRUE-BLUE MEDICARE RECIEPIENTS!!

Now... some of the people in this town have been on Medicare for years already. Others are counting the days until they qualify. But regardless of when it happens, the momentous 65th Birthday always bring about the same reaction. DANCING IN THE STREET. CRAZY GRINS ON THEIR FACES. Sometimes, even sarcastic jokes, all the while ripping up medical bills right smack in front of your face. NOW, THE BOYS AND GIRLS CAN SPEND THEIR MONIES ON SOMETHING FUN instead of the rising costs of modern medicine! Like cruises, maybe. Visiting the grandchildren perhaps. Or large, expensive golfing communities, even.

YEA! everyone likes to shout. LET'S HEAR IT FOR MEDICARE! LET'S TAKE OUR SAVED MEDICAL MONIES AND LAUGH ALL THE WAY TO THE BANK. Oh how lucky the town was feeling. Well... until about 4 months ago, anyway.

First there was Sherry. She had her arm put in a cast. Then, finally her knee in a brace. Then Susan cried out in pain one day. She now wears a leg brace, using her cane. Even Marlene has a foot all wrapped up. And, who could forget about Teddi, whose hand has a thumb in a brace, pointing almost straight up to the sky! Wait... what about Vicky who, for the past 3 years, has been walking in an open toed cast after having two surgeries on her foot? Oh my. The list just keeps growing and growing. Sue, Jay, Babe and Peggy. Every Tom, Dick and Harry, too.

But alas, all these people in the happy little town are still wearing a smile. Yes, even though the doctor's offices are run by little mechanical elves and the doctors have no clue of exactly how to ease the pains, the smiling townspeople keep plugging along. Oh sure, some days are better than others. And some boys and girls heal faster than others. But through it all, Medicare is picking up the bill. HIP, HIP, HOORAY! HIP, HIP, HOORAY!

Even the doctors in the town are shouting out in glee. Well, why not? THEY are the ones being PAID to replace all these hips! Or knees. Or hearing aids. Or eyeglasses. Or, you name it. They're fixing it.

Gee.... isn't it fun being 65???

I MUST CONFESS

There's no doubt about it... Madonna wins the prize as one of THE most talented musical artists EVER. I swear to God... after watching her special tonight, THE CONFESSIONS TOUR, I have to congratulate myself for having picked her out the lineup, way back in the late 8Os, as a major fabulous musical force. It was then that I watched, listened, gasped and gloried. I remember thinking Jesus... who IS this mover and shaker? I also remember watching her on TV's American Music Awards while she did her performance of LIKE A VIRGIN. I immediately called my brother to say: Uh oh. The musical world has definitely now gone to all out hell. Such was the sexy shock I felt at watching Madonna perform, crawling in an erotic pose wearing a shabby chic white laced skirt and satin corset. Uh... not your Mother's Perry Como, to say the least.

In spite of taking me by complete surprise, within the next 8 years, Madonna recorded some of my alltime favorite music. While I never had a daughter of my own, I did have a teen aged step daughter and I'll never forget the nights I chauffeured her and her many adorable friends, all the while singing at the top of our lungs all the songs on my copy of Madonna's CD, IMMACUALATE COLLECTION. To this day, it's still one of the best CD's ever recorded.

As if THAT'S not enough, Madonna, who's now well into her 40s has THE most incredible rock hard body you've ever seen. Shit. When God was handing out the goodies, I swear, he was having a most remarkable day, giving Madonna the looks, brains, talent and hutzpah for which all others would kill. On the other hand, at a very young age, she lost her Mother, so.... I better be careful of my jealous tradeoffs. In the meantime, watching her move that rock hard muscle toned body could almost make an aging ole lady give pause and rethink her sexual orientation. This Madonna, unlike the biblical one, is one HOT mama.

Uh... and this Madonna, unlike the biblical one, is far from pure. Thank God for small favors.

C IS FOR COOKIE

I remember with a smile, days gone by, when my son would sit on my lap and together we'd watch Sesame Street. First at 9 a.m. and then again at 4 p.m. Which is why I simply adore this picture. It's so sacrilegious, that it makes me laugh right out loud to imagine how the Muppet Family could possibly feast on this. Let alone wear a smile while doing so. I myself was never a big fan of Big Bird. Nor of Oscar. Or even Bert, for that matter. For ME, I'd choose Ernie in a heartbeat. Besides, he had the best songs to sing.

But that aside, any notion of a Thanksgiving celebration where supping on Big Bird is an okay thing to depict, is to me, a humorously sick yet oh so clever an idea. I love the brains that are capable of creating this image, although granted, it's definitely pushing the envelope. I just wished I had the nerve to send this out as a Happy Thanksgiving card to everyone I know. I can't, however. I'm afraid I'll be brutalized by the PBS Association of American Parents or something.

I still have favorite songs from watching Sesame Street. And, as I mentioned, Ernie was my favorite character. He was always so happy and cheerful, so polite and so smart. Bert, on the other hand, almost needed Prozac at times. I always got the feeling that Ernie was the more wordly of the two and believe me, I'll take the more worldly over the more depressed, any day. Granted, I may be all wrong about Bert. It's just that if memory serves me (and often it doesn't) Ernie was the way more happening of the duo.

Regardless, I wish all my family and friends a very Happy Thanksgiving. I wish you a wonderful celebration, surrounded with people you love and enjoy. And, as for me, I just wish I could find my copy of FREE TO BE, YOU AND ME.

TOYS AND TOOLS

Remember Tupperware Parties? Well, get this... Passion Parites are where you want to be nowadays. And, it's not just for Generation X anymore. While having breakfast with some favorite friends of mine today, the subject of "toy"s came up. Uh... and I'm not talking Toys R Us, either. Needless to say, we all get quite a rollicking chuckle everytime conversations of this ilk come about. According to the experts in the group, we have ABC's The View to thank for making topics such as this acceptable ladylike banter. That and airport security. Putting your carry on bag through the security sensors apparently spot this sort of deal with great ease. Who knew?

In the meantime, MY personal favorite toy is a battery operation of a different kind: my cordless power tools. You should have seen me the day I got my first cordless drill and it's accompanying drill bits. I felt like I was on top of the world. The guy at Home Depot was very patient with me and taught me everything I needed to know about butterfly bolts. I came home and ran through the dry walled house like a nut FINALLY able to drill in anchors all over the place so I could hang my heavier frames, art objects, etc. I was in Cordless Heaven. Couple that with my cordless screw driver, my electric sander and my electric staple gun and boom. I'm a regular Man Around the House. To this day, I'm dying to own an electric saw.

A few years ago Barbara and I went to our local Community College for a class in woodworking. We figured 1.) we'd constuct an excellent household item by the end of the semester and more importantly, 2.) it would be a great place to hook up with friendly men. As it turned out, 15 other women had the same idea, The class was comprised of 17 females and 3 males. To my way of thinking, you'd have to be pretty damn friendly to beat THOSE kind of odds. Which of course is why we dropped out right after the 2nd class. But, BOY! Did this college workshop have SAWS!! Scarey ones, too. I took one look at the gigantic electric saws, gave a quick glance down to my fingers and immediately determined I love my fingers more. So much for the class. As we exited though, we naturally took a detour into the auto parts classroom. So THAT'S where the men hang out.

DAY SURGERY

I swear to God... Monica is a genius. And, apparently, she is also a master surgeon. After having lunch today, Monica came back home with me and together we were going to begin making a zillion dollars by selling on Ebay. As it happens, the listing of the sale was the easy part. Even finding something to sell was easy enough. It was receiving PAYMENT for said sales that threw us into a tizzy. Well, threw me, anyway.

Turns out, that to sell on Ebay you first need a PayPal account which is something I already have, given all my past auction purchases. Buying is as easy as 1-2-3. Selling is another story altogether. I need to be verified on PayPal? I need a Premier Acc't? I need a Business Acc't? A simple Personal Acc't will work just as well? Jesus... It was nuts. Monica wanted me to read all the thousands of new links we clicked on, but actually my thought was: thanks, but no thanks. How could I? I couldn't even figure out the darn LIST itself. There were zillions of links, but never the one that would answer the actual question I was seeking. Besides, Monica tried all the links herself while I fetched a glass of wine and STILL we were no closer than we were 4 hours earlier.

Things were becoming such a chore that at one point we decided take a break and go find an item for my quote Practice Sale. In the basement I came across a Lenox vase I never use. Bingo. Mission accomplished. We signed back onto Ebay, checked out any competing vases and get this... I ALMOST WOUND UP BUYING FROM MY COMPETITION! I swear... for a mere $9.99 (which the Lenox website said was worth $60) I could buy a vase exactly like the one I was getting ready to sell! YIKES. I could now have a set!! Talk about dilemmas! And, talk about an idiot... I began the day hell bent on downsizing. Next thing I know I'm this far from upgrading my ITEMS THAT SIT ON BASEMENT SHELVES! Don't ask.

Anyway, the topper of the day was when, hours into our PayPal project, poor Monica was in SUCH back pain, she finally allowed me to give her 3 Advil. No sooner had she swallowed the meds than she announced she was going to lay on the floor to help the pain subside. The next thing I know, Monica brought her leg up to her chest, crossed her knee over the side of her body for no more than 6 seconds AND BOOM! SHE HOPS UP, READY TO DO ANY KIND OF CALISTHENICS YOU COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE! As a back pain sufferer myself, I was in sheer shock. It was like MAGICAL 6 SECOND SURGERY and never in my life have I ever seen such a recovery. I'm telling you... I was SHOCKED. So shocked, in fact, I was ready to call ABC's Dr. Timothy Johnson and report Monica's miraculous pain relief technique. Monica actually crunched a back bone right back in place in a mere blink of an eye! Honestly. Had I turned around to sneeze or something, I would have missed the entire surgery altogether.

Which to me, means only one thing. Monica has no need whatsover of selling on Ebay to become rich and famous. Rather, she needs to get to an AMA annual meeting and report her unbelievable back relief techniques IMMEDIATELY. I, on the other hand, have to find a doctorate program to teach me all about PayPal.

MY LUCKY DAY

Well, whatta ya know. Seems as if what goes around comes around. Like all of a sudden it's BETTER for you to now have butter rather than margarine. Also, coffee with caffeine is, it turns out to be, a GOOD thing. As if that's not enough, dark chocolate is currently, recommended eating!

Today I learned even luckier news. Get this... in the contest of having a doughnut for breakfast vs. having no breakfast at all, THE DOUGHNUT WINS! YIPPEE! Now THAT'S the kind of news I love to hear. FINALLY. Someone in Nutrition Heaven is seeing the light. They're seeing so much light as a matter of fact, they're also telling me that Coke is a better choice than lemonade. Apparently, it's the sugar issue that puts lemonade on the DO NOT DRINK list. My, how things have changed.

In the meantime, when my girlfriend, Linda, was here visiting me this week, she complied with my request to make my all time favorite recipe... her Chicken Francaise. In fact, we wound up having a kind of small, very last minute dinner party which was a real treat for me. She did the shopping, she did the prep work, and she did the cooking. But even I know when things are over the top.

While passing through the kitchen, I happened to see Linda making the sauce and EEKS. I saw TWO HUGE whole sticks of butter in the pan!! I gasped with fright. She, on the other hand, told me to get the hell out of the kitchen. WHAT?? You're allowed to use that much butter?? Linda wanted to add more, I think, but there was just no way I could, in good faith, allow it. (wouldn't my Mother be proud)

As it turned out, the dinner that evening was FABULOUS. Not only because the meal was so delicious, but also... HALLELUJAH!... the Republicans fell like dead weights here, there, and everywhere. So actually, if my luck keeps on pointing in such happy directions, I'll one day learn that french fries are way better for you than baked potatoes! Am now off to find a Rabbit's Foot, a Horseshoe and a Four Leaf Clover.

UP IN SMOKE

Just in case I blow up my entire house, I thought I'd better say good-bye right now. Of course I don't WANT to blow up my house, but according to the chimney sweep guy who was here yesterday, I'm not allowed to use my fireplace. Well, not unless I want to ante up $2200. WHAT?? I've got to go rob someplace? As it happens, I've been blissfully using my Buck Stove insert fireplace every winter since I've moved here. I don't rely on it for my major source of heat, but I do love using it on special winter evenings. Especially when I've got out of town company or dinner guests, maybe. And, I DEFINITELY used it during last year's ice storm which knocked out my power for three days.

Little did I know I was putting myself and/or my guests at risk all these years. According to the chimney sweep people, they can't authorize my safe usage because I... ahem... need a stainless steel chimney liner. I DO?? Since when? Well, apparently since the NC code for chimneys changed. So... the big dilemma. Do I just pretend I never had the chimney cleaned, thus never spoke to the guy who laid the code change on me? Or, do I just risk the lives of everyone who ever comes into my house?

Well... being the friendly sort, you know what? I'm going with ... risking everyone's life.

First of all, laying out over 2k is not even in the picture. Secondly, the fireplace has always worked fabulously. Thirdly, I've NEVER had a chimney fire. I've never burned down my neighbor's house. And, I have certainly never burned down my OWN house. Fourthly, as much as I love my friends, and would never want to put them in harm's way, trust me, I love myself MORE. Therefore, if I can stomach the chance of foregoing the chimney liner, then I'm figuring everyone else can, too.

Of course the true test will come tomorrow night when Linda, my oldest girlfriend, comes to visit for a week. Like me, Linda is from Miami and I can't WAIT to entertain her with the delights of a cool autumn night, up here in the Smoky Mountains. As in:lighting a fire while we sit around chit chatting, watching the beauty of dazzling flames and catching up on all sorts of gossip. Just in case, though, I'm thinking that I WILL plan ahead by telling Linda to pack up her valuables and leave them by the front door. Uh... you never know whether or not we'll ever have to make a really quick get-away out of a burning house.

Besides, we CAN'T burn to death... we've got our 40th high school reunion in a few months. And, neither of us want to walk in, donning major skin grafts.

IN AND OUT

In a little while I'll be headed to the Country Club for a fabulous brunch. I chose an appropriate outfit to wear... casual, but nice. A notch above an outfit I might wear to the movies, let's say. As it happens, casual is my watchword when it comes to dress. For instance, I would never wear a fitted waistband. Elastic was MADE for my taste, without a doubt. Not to mention, for my comfort. Which is sort of important, given I often go into a dining establishment being one size, but then, come out from the exact same place, an absolutely different size. A size UP, I might add. It's crazy... I literally grow within a mere hour and a half of dining. Thus, my adoration of elastic.

I love the days when I get dressed, look in the mirror, and think: Well, what do you know... today I look almost normal! Yup! The chubbiness seems to be pretty much under control! In fact, after looking in the mirror, I may even reconsider, and therefore change into one of my "thin" outfits. Days like this make me feel really spiffy since 1.) they are far and few between and 2.) I get to see a real pay off, considering I've made a major life project out of trying to camouflage my figure. It's a full time job, trust me. In fact, I always get a kick out of people who may see me somewhere and tell me: My, you look GREAT today! To which I often repy: Thanks. Mission Accomplished! Apparently I'm fooling SOMEone out there by my having chosen clothing to best hide my body faults. Actually, I've often said my sister has my mother's figure while I ... lucky me ... have my father's physique. Go figure.

Another thing I'd never do is tuck my shirt into my waitsband. I'd look way too much like the little dancing elephant, twirling all around, wearing a tu-tu. I can't even IMAGINE what it would be like to sport a belt. That is definitely not an accessory that would enhance my figure. Rather, I am diligent in selecting loose fitting tops that work double time in concealing my body shape. I'm so telling you... dressing my body gives a whole new meaning to hidden agendas. You think it's EASY creating a wardrobe for myself? Dont' ask.

Which brings me right back to the "I don't have a going problem. I've got a GROWING problem". I'll walk into the brunch today looking pretty much stylin'. However, what size I'll be when I walk out, heaven only knows. Besides, it's a buffet... so you do the math. Oh... and by the way, I've got a going problem, too. But that's a whole other story.

MEMORABLE DATES

Now HERE'S a picture if ever I've seen one. It makes me laugh. It kinda reminds me of when I was teaching my son to chew with his mouth closed. It also reminds me of a guy I might once have gone out with. Once, being the key word. One meal with a guy of this ilk and boom, I... oops... somehow developed a major headache and had to be rushed home. I have to admit, I've gone out with a lot of different men in my life, beginning with the jerk who asked me to my Confirmation Dance in 10th grade. I didn't really want to go with him at ALL, but my Dad encouraged me, suggesting that while HE may not have been my knight in shining armor, he might have a FRIEND who could be. Seemed sensible enough. So, I went; but as it turns out, I never met any fabulous friend.

Then, there was the guy with whom I once went to Key Largo. I remember sitting in the front seat of his car, looking at him while he drove. It was my first little out of town weekend since my divorce. Bruce was telling me a story of how his father was once at a mall, sitting on a slatted bench, waiting, while his mother was shopping. When his mother finished, she walked over to the hubby and NO sooner had he spied her, than the father GOT up and BOOM! HE SCREAMED IN PAIN. The problem?? The father's testicles got caught in the wooden slats of the bench!!! HE COULDN'T GET THEM OUT, EITHER. Can you IMAGINE?? THIS IS NORMAL??? Huh? The guy never heard of briefs?? He's sitting there with no clue he's "hanging"? Believe you me, I wanted to vomit, just envisioning this entire scenerio. As it happens, the Fire Rescue guys had to be called in to ... get this... saw the bench apart! Jesus. This is SO not the story to tell a prospective weekend getaway date. I promise you... I was, for good reason, SO turned off at the vision of this ordeal that I literally COUNTED the hours until my return home. AND, you can be SURE that the testicles of any son whose father got his own caught in a bench, were a pair I NEVER wanted to view. Nor did I. I was simply WAY too spooked.

On the other hand, most of my dates throughout life were simply fabulous. A month after the Confirmation Dance date, I met the first love of my life with whom I went steady for almost two years during high school. And, two other dates were SO fabulous, that I actually married them. Thankfully, each of these men ate with their mouth closed. And... more importantly... they had no father/bench stories to retell.

MY WORK HERE IS DONE

Last month, I was asked to model at SteinMart's for a few hours. It was a dream job. You choose whatever 3 outfits you'd like to model and merely walk the floor, showing off how stunning you look. In return, you get 20% off anything you'd like to purchase. Which I found to be interesting since basically I had to PAY in order to then BE paid. Some concept, huh? On the other hand, I did buy 3 great pieces which I will certainly love wearing, but still, there's something a bit out of whack here. Whatever.

This month, I've had the title of Executive Assistant for a week. I was asked by a gentleman here to help with computer/internet work for a business plan he was putting together. I happily accepted since a.) I could work in pajamas at home b.) the pay was good and c.) I could complete my work at 3 a.m. if I chose. The job was a breeze, but don't tell that to the guy. I'm definitely into letting him think I worked hard as hell; although I must admit I really DID do a pretty decent job, if I say so myself. That's the good news. The bad news is, my job is now over. I've been fired, in a manner of speaking. I apparently finished all he needed done so once again, I'm out in the open employment market. At first we expected that the job might take up to maybe 50 hours. Just my luck, I'm so efficient, it took closer to 15. Thus, of course the big dilemma. Do I pad my hours or not??

If only I were in my 20's. At that age, I'd probably take the risk and well... kinda lie, adding extra hours to my pay check. But being in my 50's, however... uh, I think I'll go the honesty route. I love being able to sleep well at night, so why toy with success. Which of course means, I won't get as much money, but so be it. I'm heavy into morality, anyway so in the end, it's a win-win situation. Besides, at THIS job, I didn't have to first lay out any money to then get my money.

Better yet, knowing that my oldest girlfriend is soon to arrive for a week's visit, being fired isn't such a bad thing. I'm now free to entertain with no work constraints. I'm also free to spend my measley paycheck entertaining her. Which to me, spells yet another win-win situation. Moral of the story? Anyone needing a great employee who might possibly consider cheating on work hours, give me a call. Apparently, I'm available.

WHAT? ME WORRY??

Bet your sweet ass I worry! Uh... doesnt' everyone???

WHO HAS TIME?

Wow... it's been so long since I've had time to post an entry that get this... I FORGOT MY PASSWORD. I can't believe it. I tried logging into my Blog Acc't and had NO idea what my password was! Oh my God... I'm getting old. At lightening speed, too. Talk about discouraging. Well, that's the bad news.

The good news is: the reason I haven't had time to post is because I've been so busy winning hordes of money and zillions of trips! HOW have I been doing this? Easy... I've been playing online Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune!! Of course, I've been losing everything, too, but who's counting. I swear... these games are just the ticket for vegging out and regrouping. Case in point: I had a bad day recently and before you knew it, I was back to my chipper self again. I merely sat down at the computer, played a game and boom. I was back in the pink in no time.

Let me tell you by the way, IT'S NOT EASY. Wheel of Fortune is the one that surprised me the most. (the games have the exact music, set design, etc as on TV) When watching television, I can solve the puzzle in no time flat. On the computer, when I'm the contestant... forget it. I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT THE SOLUTION IS. Merely selecting the correct letters is a challenge. I couldn't believe I wasn't popping out the answers lickety split.

As for Jeopardy, I was surprised too. But, in a good way. I couldn't get over how well I did in... let's say Astronomy. A category I'd NEVER have chosen. About the only answer I'd ever know is... let's say: HE INVENTED THE TELESCOPE. Yippee. That one I'd know. Uh, Alex... I'll take SHOOT FOR THE STARS for $600. WHO IS GALILEO?? Naturally, I'd be smiling when... just then Alex tells me... SO SORRY LINDA. THAT'S INCORRECT. Huh? Is this a joke?? HE DIDN'T?? Wouldn't you know... come to find out, Galileo only IMPROVED upon the telescope. The REAL inventor is some chap named Hans Lipperhey. A chap by the way, I'VE NEVER HEARD OF. Which is probably when I'd have to take issue with the judges; but why spoil the fun. HOWever... forgetting about Astronomy... I happily surprised myself in a LOT of other crazy categories. Oh yeah... I forgot to mention. Since Alex and I are merely meeting in cyberspace, the answers all show up as multiple choices. No WONDER I do better than I would have thought. Were I to pull the answers strictly from inside my own head, I'd be a goner in round two, EASILY.

Bottom line: I highly recommend these two games for anyone wanting to escape for 20 minutes. Try either Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune (don't download it... play it for free like I do) and if you beat me, I shan't be happy. I will however, return to my REAL all time favorite game... FREE CELL. See you in the contestant's circle.

AIR WAYS

I think I should get a commission from the airlines. Afterall, I'm doing exactly what THEIR agents are getting paid to do... book my itinerary and purchase my ticket. Plus, the agents have had actual training to do this. I of course, was never offered such help. And... now that I think of it, I should also get paid for having trained myself. This online trial and error method I have to go through, is for the birds.

Also, I have yet to find such fabulous pricing bargains to wherever it is I'm flying. Well, other than last minute weekend getaways and I never fly at the last minute. How can I? It takes me at least 4 days to just organize my packing. Which brings me to another point. Packing is a huge issue with me. When I was younger, I could pack for last minute travel in a jiffy. Throw in the clothing, shoes, makeup and boom. I was ready to go. Now that I'm old, however, I've got meds, creams, hair utensils, just in case items, etc., etc. It's almost like my toiletries have suddenly become something close to a sundries mini store.

When surfing to the travel sites, especially those that supposedly have the lowest price ever, I NEVER seem to find excellent values. Am I doing something wrong, here? Let's say I'm flying to Florida and I surf sites 4 weeks in advance. Shouldn't I be able to find something less than $575?? That to me is no bargain whatsoever. Especially when I well remember heading there for a mere $152 and buying a ticket only 3 weeks in advance. It's a major bummer.

So... coupling the fact I'm not getting paid for booking my own flights with the fact there's never cheap tickets available to me, I'm thinking: why the hell go anywhere? I love where I am. Let the world c0me to me, now that I think of it. Traveling is no longer fun, anyway. Purchasing a ticket is a hassle, the check in searches can get nuts, you can no longer bring zillions of items as carry on, it's always a gamble to know whether or not you'll ever be able to depart/arrive on schedule and, most importantly, THERE'S NO FOOD. Uh... not to mention the possibility of being blown up while 35,000 feet sky high.

Okay, so that does it... I'm going nowhere. I'm sticking right here on safe ground where God meant me to be. Anywhere my feet can touch solid ground, that's the place for me. Forget ocean cruises, forget plane rides, forget ski lifts, forget deep sea diving. Besides, maybe I'll take the Oprah/Gayle approach one day. I'll simply see the USA in my Chevrolet. Oops...damn. I forgot. I hate long car trips, too.

FREE FALLING

After 12 months, guess what? AUTUMN IS HERE ONCE AGAIN! Autumn alone, is one of the reasons I adore where I live. As a native South Floridian, even I knew that celebrating Xmas in temps of 89 degrees is a major fraud. But, now that I'm in Great Smoky Mountains, my favorite season is upon me. Just last night I got to wear a wonderful coverup over my clothing and it felt great. All the windows are opened, the sun is shining brightly and the temps are in the 50s. What a life! From here on in, the crispness of the air will become a staple, the seasonal clothing will come out of the closet and the indoors will feel open and comfortable. Not to mention that reds, yellows and oranges will color the trees. Am so telling you... autumn is a fabulous season. Period.

I remember my first autumn 4 years ago. During that period I wore more pairs of socks in 5 months, than I ever did during the 50+ years of living down south. Not only that, I now have 2 wardrobes of socks... those for day/evening wear and those for nighttime sleeping. Having warm feet while asleep during autumn and winter are clearly the secret to feeling nice and toasty. Actually, hot chocolate helps, too.

XTRA, XTRA

I'm having a war with the newspaper delivery guy. He apparently runs the show around here, and his bosses, unlike me, apparently seem to have no problem with it. Last month, in honor my sister and her husband having moved here, I gifted them a daily subcription to our local newspaper. And, I stipulated when I placed the order, that I wanted to be SURE the paper would be delivered as far down the driveway as possible.

Well, it seems the delivery guy isn't all that intent on satisfying the customer. After three weeks, he still insists the paper be placed in the mail box which is about a house and a half away. That's another story altogether. Suffice it to say however, that since Jack doesn't want to throw the paper in the driveway, my sister has to, instead, be sure she's fully dressed before she can trapse up the street to grab her daily edition of what's happening in the world.

Almost immediately, I was on the phone with circulation department and after three weeks and 5 different service reps the upshot seems to be: Jack has been around forever (thus makes his own rules) and claims he has a "tight schedule". A tight ass is what I'm thinking, but so be it. Tight schedule?? He can't take no more than an extra 65 seconds and zip up to the driveway for the infamous toss?? Give me a BREAK! This guy is outta control.

Naturally, I've asked the reps to please correct this delivery hassel and further, please call me back letting me know Jack is ready to cooperate. The phone has not rung once from anyone. Even the threat of cancelling MY subscription as well as my sister's in favor of reading it online, didn't get me anywhere. What the hell is going on in this city? I need to fight to get a paper delivered? I'm involved in a newspaper war??

I can't even imagine what to think when Jack hears that my sister will be in Australia soon, thus will have to actually SUSPEND service for three weeks. Mark my words... three weeks of papers will almost certainly be laying in her driveway.

GETTING HIGH

Yeah, yeah, yeah. There are those who love getting high simply on life. I do that too, but if you REALLY want to get high, why not try taking a toke from an excellent joint. I did that often in college and as a young married. Naturally, those years were a hell of a lot of fun... if I remember correctly.

I say this, because last night I had heart palpatations for hours so decided to down my newer drug of choice... Ativan. It was about 1mg I guess, but boy did I get loopy. It calmed me down plenty, although it didn't do all that much for the palpatations. So, just in case I had to be rushed to the hospital during the night, I figured I had better shower and powder up. No need looking like a jerk when the ambulance arrives.

I took one more half a pill, and then hopped in the shower. While there, I was thinking how writing a blog entry while I was in this loopy state might actually turn into a really good thing. I can't even iMAGine what my entry would have been like nor what it's topic might have been. I was just figuring that for all I know, it could have been one of the all time best entries ever. Much like how, way back when, my lesson plans were so creative, fun-filled and originally educational. As it happened however, my loopiness soon turned into wooziness and the next thing you know, I was fast asleep. Without even one bathroom break the entire night, I might add.

It wasn't until after 9:00 this morning when my phone rang, that I woke up. And let me tell you... it was no easy wake up call. When I hung up, I was feeling like maybe I had way too much champagne the night before. Therefore, I'm supposing my sleep wasn't quite finished. In which case, is why as soon as I upload this, I'm off to take a short catch-up snooze. Sweet dreams everyone!

LIFE'S DISAPPOINTMENTS

I love the feeling of happy anticipation. The kind of anticipation when something about to occur is going to rock your world forever. The very first weekend getaway with the love of your life, maybe. Or the birth of your first baby. Or, my personal favorite... when a gent who knocks your socks off, is about to lean in and give you his very first kiss. You nervously anticipate the kiss that's going to bring you to your knees, and boom!... take you to heaven. Okay... so the sweet anticipation grows even more, as his mouth finally approaches yours and then WHAM! He kisses you and sure enough it's like... uh... oh NOOO! Your world isn't rocking at ALL. Instead, it's major CRUMBLING! As in: loverboy turns out to have COMPLETELY flunked The A B C's of Kissing Basics, thus in a flash of a moment, he becomes one of your all time major disappointments in life.

Such is how I felt the night that the apple of my eye, MSNBC's Tucker Carlson, showcased his dancing ability on DANCING WITH THE STARS. After watching Tucker for years, I was thrilled to be able to see a different side of him... his sexier side. My expectations were sky high. Afterall, Tucker's a guy who's bright, tall, funny, way easy on the eyes, and one whom I imagined had the perfect moves to definitely make me smile. All of which, to me, is a fabulously bundled foundation for everything sexy. I just KNEW I was going to love watching him on the dance floor, holding my breath with visual pleasure. Jesus. How wrong I was.

Talk about stiff! And, not where I'd like it, either. I'm talking about stiff body moves, no real rhythm, lead-heavy steps, etc. etc.; thus for sure... blowing all my pent up anticipation in a mere nano second. HUH?? TUCKER NEVER MADE IT OUT OF DANCE 101?? WHAT?? JERRY SPRINGER IS HOTTER THAN TUCK?? Say it ain't so! Lordy, lordy, lordy. Now THERE'S a disappointment, if ever I've seen one.

Which just goes to show, you simply never know. Besides, if you ask me, Jerry Springer looked damn good in his tux. If he promises not to throw chairs at me, I'd dance with him in a heartbeat.

IF I WERE PRESIDENT

I'm getting major sick of hearing George W. address the Iraqi issue. He's like a blubbering broken record, using the same tired talking points over and over. Additionally, the points themselves are so damn lame, it's embarrassing. As if that's not enough, he's addressing the issues with the worst grammatical usage I've ever seen from ... uh... a supposed statesman. On THAT count, I could easily be President. Granted, being "major sick" is not at all grammatically correct. But on the other hand ... I've yet to be elected to the highest office in the land.

Case in point: Right now, as I write, President Bush is being interviewed by Brian Williams on MSNBC. In describing his personal reading choices, Bush claims his taste in reading is eceletic. WHAT? ECELETIC??? Since WHEN is eceletic a word?? The word is: ECLECTIC for God's sake! This sort of stupidity from the leader of the free world just freakin' kills me.

That's number 1. Number 2 is that if I were President, I'd oust Rumsfeld in a jiffy. He's not even worthy of comment. Suffice it to say, I find him leading us down a proven horrible path, with no sign of remarkable military success whatsoEVER. End of disscussion.

Next, I'd tell Iraq... okee dokee folks; we got rid of your dictator. You're welcome. Since the take down, we've tried the best damn way we (the greatest military force on earth) knew how, to bring you an opportunity to develop your own government and repair your war damage. In fact, we've spent, what?? four years??, fighting all the obstacles your countymen have placed before us. Thanks a lot for all those obstacles, by the way. And, thanks too, for all those religious nut jobs killing us while we try to get you up and running once again. Whatever. Game's over. You win.

Therefore, as President, my message would be along the lines of: Uh... Guess what, Iraq. We are FINISHED. Good-bye. Nice knowing you. Our here work is done. Kaput. Over. No more. As of this moment, YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN, kiddies. Do whatever the hell you want in your land and by the way ... rots 'o ruck doing it. Shoot up every religious sect you f-ing want and let any fanatical idiot you choose, be your leader. At this point, I could care less what you guys do. Oh, and by the way... you might want to rethink your message from Allah. You're telling me your God insists that you kill every human being on earth who is not as fanatically, radically violent as you?? Pullllease.

Whew. I feel better, now that I spewed. Thanks for indulging me. Thanks too, for allowing me any/all grammatically incorrect sentence structures as well as any/all creative vocabulary. I'd make a great President.

THE BIG HOUSE

Any day now, I could be whisked away from my modest little house, to instead, a government-funded Big House. The kind where black and white stripes are in fashion. Will it actually happen? I doubt it, but just in case... I figured I'd give everyone a heads up.

I've previously mentioned how absolutely thrilled I am with my new DSL line. It' simply the best thing EVER. And while most people my age use their computer for email, travel planning, paying bills etc., I have always used my computer for far more. I use detailed imaging software to maintain my family/digitals photos. I record all my check book transactions to give annual financial reports to my accountant. I save/scan all my important documents, develop web pages and/or blog entries, and I've perfected all sorts of desktop publishing programs. I seach the internet for possible physician malpractice suits against my doctors (why take chances?) and download zillions of free computer applications, including about 200 additional fonts. Apparently, the first 100 aren't enough.

But the BEST thing I do now, is download music files which is ... ahem ... let's just say... not the way you're SUPPOSED to get your music. You're supposed to PAY for it, so that artists get their royalties, etc. But according to anyone under the age of 35, screw the $$$ and instead, risk jail time.

Before I got fast access, I didn't even consider downloading songs... it took WAY too long. Now however, I swear, in two minutes or less, you can have absolutely ANY song known to mankind. It's a sheer miracle. I'm just wild about it. Case in point: I've now got Frank Sinatra singing ISLE OF CAPRI, Elton John and George Michael singing in unison DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME, as well as Bobby Darin belting out BEYOND THE SEA and I'M BEGINNING TO SEE THE LIGHT. I just can't beLIEVE how fabulous it is to burn all the songs you've ever loved, onto a single CD! It definitely blows my mind. Naturally, I had to also download freeware so I could convert the .mp3 files to .wav's, but that was simple enough. I guess most people are using the .mp3's to load their iPods. Me, I'm just making CDs with which to sing along in the car. If you've never done this, I highly recommend it.

However... don't get floored when you see what the song titles of the 21st century are like. IT'S CRAZY. I'm telling you, the music our children and grandchildren are hearing are WAY TOO obscene. PRET-ty scarey, if you ask me. Like, since when is it okay to record a song entitled (and this a tame one) I WANNA GET IN YOUR PANTS??? Are you KIDDING me?? Don't ask.

See? That's what's nuts. The Feds don't give a HOOT about the major trashy recordings being heard by kids today. But, find an old lady like me who's downloading Sting's EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE and boom! I'm on the FBI list and therefore, reason to possibly be carted off to jail. In which case, please send cigs.

WORLDS APART

Are you kidding me?? Can you beLIEVE the difference in these two picts? One is of a socialite beauty in private school and the other is of a doofus to the nth degree in public school. We are both ten years old, but while Jackie already has the looks of a refined, extraordinary future icon, I have the looks of a jerk that only a mother can love. Note that Jackie had the wherewithal to keep her sweet, delicate mouth closed for her smile while I apparently figured that showing off a 14 inch gap in my teeth is a good thing. What an A hole I was.

Check out the hair styles, too. I suspect Jackie's nanny probably spent a bit of time meticiously combing her ringlets while Hazel, our housekeeper at the time, never once put a brush to my hair. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, I'm probably sporting a Toni do it yourself home perm my Mother gave me. Honestly... this just kills me. I can't stop laughing at what's going on with my "look".

What gets me is imagining if both Jackie and I were in the same class. Is it even POSSIBLE she'd ever befriend me? Someone looking like this pict?? Actually, now that I think about it, even if Jackie were to have met me 40 years later, I'm not at all sure we'd be on the same page even then. Oh well... some people were meant for fame from the very start. Others were meant for mere adoration of the famous for the rest of their lives. Guess which category I fall into.

LIFE ON THE FAST TRACK

Well, shiver me timbers, mate. I'M FINALLY surfing the net at jet speed. I can't beLIEVE how great this is. I feel like a bird soaring the skies for the first time in my life. It's definitely the next best thing to sliced bread. It took me 12 years of being on a dial up connection to finally make the call to BellSouth and say HOOK ME UP!

The equipment arrived yesterday and today, thanks to Claudia and Barbara, I'm back in the real world. Trust me... it took the three of us to do it, but do it we did. Actually, the computer installation was no real problem. Much more, was the fanagling of the wires, rearranging outlets, adding splicers, etc. BUT... it's a done deal now and boy am I thrilled.

Already, I checked out photo albums from family celebrations, watched a bunch of Elton John music videos and even uploaded a bunch of files in mere seconds. Even posting a new blog entry was done in NO TIME at all. I just can't believe this. Am telling you... if now, the billing from Cingular and Direct TV reflect the new discounted charges, I'll be on a major roll. THANK YOU GOD FOR GIVING ME THE GIFT OF SPEED.

Of course, now all that's left, is to figure out how to send/receive faxes via my computer. HA. Now THERE'S a challenge if ever there was!

ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE

Well, not exactly. Apparently you also need a really well drafted Pre-Nup. Especially if you've got a total net worth of billions. Kinda like Sir Paul McCartney. And, if you're planning to marry a woman kinda like Heather Mills.

I get it that many couples who plan to marry don't want to get bogged down in nasty little details like $$$$. It sorta puts a little damper on things when you are madly in love yet can't even agree on the financial details of how to split money should you ever break up. Talk about foreboding. On the other hand, when you've got BILLIONS, isn't it like another story ALtogether?? Isn't a pre-nup like almost MANdatory?? Hasn't anyone learned ANYthing from The Donald??

Now, bear in mind, Paul was apparently madly in love with Heather and although she was no Linda, he had high hopes for her being a Linda Two. Thus, money settlement wasn't something with which he planned on having to grapple. Way naive, my Sir. In a short 3/4 years not only did the couple marry, but they hooked into a zillion chairities, had a kid, fell out of love and, what a surprise, found themselves in the throes of a REALLY nasty divorce. Okay. So, s#@* happens.

In which case, Paul offers this second love of his life $60 million dollars. Nice income for 4 years. BUT... is that enough for sweet, magnanimous Heather? Uh... NO. SHE NEEDS MORE. Like maybe half of Paul's estate. WHAT?? HE'S BEEN KNIGHTED FOR GOD'S SAKE. HE'S BEEN AN IMPECCABLE, STAND UP KIND OF GUY FOREVER. HE'S WORKED HIS ASS YEARS BEFORE I THINK HEATHER WAS EVEN BORN. And for 4 short years she wants billions of dollars??? Get f-ing real.

I hate this Heather. Even when I saw her on Larry King years ago, pushing her causes, etc., she just didn't give me the impression she was an adoring, wonderful woman. I'm way into now thinking, Heather had an agenda and I'm also thinking money was high on her list. Who better to better to wrap her legs around... oops, I mean, leg... than Paul McCartney.

Probably Elton said it best: The Bitch is Back.

IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOU

I swear to God... this Iran crap is scaring the hell out of me. I have no clue how much longer we all have here on earth, but if it's up to the head Iranian guy, it's a matter of days. He is absolutely out of his f-ing mind. Granted, the Korean psycho is heavy into war games for maybe, the sheer fun of it; and Bin Laden is in a cave somewhere happily scheming to blow up every American/Israeli on earth; BUT I'm keeping my eye on the Iranian guy. I'm thinking he's the other two all rolled into one. Today, I heard that what he REALLY wants, is to kill EVERYone EVERYwhere AND he can do in six minutes what took Hitler six years. Just what I wanted to hear. Besides, Russia isn't all that upset with Iran, thus between the two of them, we're talking capability and billions of dollars. A pretty potent mix.

Which leads me to think:
1.) tell everyone I know and love goodbye, it was nice knowing you, I don't want to die, but any day now could be my last... and...
2.) forget saving money... I might as well spend every cent I have NOW to buy whatever tickles my fancy, since I won't be around much longer anyway. I will apparently NEVER live long enough to receive monies from my IRA. At least, not without a penalty.

Everyone who knows me well, knows I have a long list of fears. I hate driving in thunderstorms, will not fly during afternoon hours when thunderstorms are brewing, hate heights, have NEVER considered roller coasters safe let alone, fun, am afraid I won't find a bathroom in time and lastly, hate all sorts of air travel from hand gliding to high powered jets. Although, I did once discover a cure for my flying... go first class. Put me in a turbulent sky and bingo. I'm popping Ativan like no tomorrow. But, put me in first class and I'm handling turbulence like a breeze.

Now, however, I have to add Iran to my list of fears and according to the guy on TV, it should be, without a doubt, #1 on the list. What the hell is the world coming to?? Supposedly, in a nutshell, Iran's thinking is: by killing everyone on earth, it will hasten the coming of their Messiah, so killing the entire world is a good thing, which is why suicide is so noble. In addition, Iranians are the ONLY peoples worthy of life. Everyone else has got to be exterminated.

WHAT?? IS THIS A FREAKIN' JOKE?? THIS IS WHAT WE'RE UP AGAINST?? THIS IS A WAY TO LIVE?? Holy S@*#.

Seriously... Iran is so out to get us. Way more than all the other nut jobs. And, according to TV, our President and our government are only into reactionary measures; absolutely not, no way, not even CLOSE to preventative measures. Case in point: there is no reason to even consider not bringing body lotion on a plane when there is absolutely nothing being done about THROROUGHLY checking and rechecking the cargo loads on each plane. But, trust me. As soon as the next plane explodes, only to find that the bomb got by the almost non-existent cargo check point, THEN the government will conclude: uh, duh. Gee, guess we better put some work into the cargo docks, afterall.

Therefore, with that in mind, I feel really, really badly about this, but I better say good bye now, since my days are numbered and I have no clue if I'll ever get a chance to say it later. It was definitely nice knowing you. On the other hand, as my sister told me today... Good news! I now no longer have reason to be afraid of the Bird Flu. Talk about a silver lining.

IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!

YEA! IT ARRIVED!! I got of the shower about an hour ago, and I noticed a UPS truck zipping around the neighborhood. Bingo... an alarm went off in my head... THE DSL EQUIPMENT IS HERE! Yippee. Except, I also noticed the truck turned in a completely different direction than my house. Goodbye delivery. But wait... I then looked through the glassed area front door and sure enough. There it was. THE EQUPIMENT!

I opened all the boxes and within minutes I determined: EEKS. Problem City. There is NO way I'll be able to do this by myself. Not because I can't figure out the directions, but rather, I could tell right away the wires weren't long enough. The outlets needed for hook up jacks weren't close enough. The furniture needed to be moved isn't light. Also, the installation disk told me to hook up the Ethernet cable rather than the DSL cable. HUH?? WHY?? What the hell is the difference??

So, just as earlier predicted, I can see that the first of my glitches have occurred. See? This is exactly why it's great to have a savvy kid. I have to call him to find out what to do next about the Ethernet bit. He should be able to point me in the right direction 1-2-3. Which reminds me, by the way, I heard on TV earlier that some teen in Utah is being charged with killing his mother by locking her in the freezer. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? THIS IS ACCEPTABLE?? FREEZING YOUR MOM?? Jesus. Talk about giving a whole new meaning to "I'm freezing to death".

Stay tuned for future glitch announcements.

FROM MALIBU TO MELIBU

christ almigthty, melibu
just what the hell
did you do?

what? you don't love jews?
now since when,
is that fresh news?

it's the "liquor"
that made you spew?
sorry melbie,
you're major screwed.

actually,
if i were you...
i'd not ask "hebs"
for your review...

head to church
is what to do
on bended knee...
ask forgiveness from your pew.

why not make it
prayers from two?
just bring dad
along with you.

oh...
if adolf hitler
only knew.
wouldn't he
be proud of you.

IT'S OFFICAL!!

As of today, I'm no longer a loser. Actually, as of this coming Saturday, I think. FINALLY... AFTER BEING THE LAST AMERICAN ON EARTH to do so, I've ordered Fast Access Internet Service! YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE For the last 12 years, I've been doing dial up and believe you me, it sucks. BUT... I stuck with it for several reasons, not the least of which was my fear of initially being billed, let's say $25 a month, only to see it jump to something like $182 in almost no time at all.

Kinda like my cable service. THEY lured me into their fold with a fabulous pricing offer, and over a couple year period, next thing you know, I was paying 4x the amount for absolutely no additional service whatsoever. Which is why I've since switched to Direct TV and have never looked back.

ANYway, this morning I bit the bullet and spoke with a very patient BellSouth rep, Ms. Grier and HALLELUJAH I'm on my way! Now, don't get me wrong. I've been around the block a few times, so I'm already prepared for all SORTS of glitches to arise. And, I pretty much told BellSouth that. Sure, sure sure. They told me not to worry. Everything I bundled so as to get cellular discounts, free modem, etc. will fly without a hitch. Statements will reflect exactly what was quoted me on the phone... you know the drill. But I, on the other hand, know the reality. NOTHING WILL GO ACCORDING TO PLAN. I'm accepting this right off the bat. BUT... I will, on the other hand GET HIGH SPEED internet access, so who gives a s#^%. JUMPIN' JOSEPHA RING TONES, BATMAN! I'M OUT OF THE LOSER BOX! About damn time, too!

The only other thing I now look forward to, is resolving all the conflicting biling problems that will come about which, according to my calendar, will occur probably around September 23rd. Stay tuned for the prediciton results!

OLDIE GOLDIE

It's scary... I'm getting old and I know it. I can't believe what I just made myself for dinner. CHICKEN BREASTS!! Never in my entire life did I EVER have a yen for chicken. Were I to come to YOUR house and be served chicken, I'd down it with sheer delight. But for me to make it for mySELF?? Never. I am, always was, and always be a steak and potato kind of gal. At least until 6 months ago, anyway. Which to me, signals my getting old.

Another signal of note, is the fact I no longer leave my A.C. at a cool, comfy 71 degrees. I can easily get by, upping the temp several notches. Were my son still living at home, he'd freak. Summer would most definitely render the thermostat at a constant 68 degrees, with the overhead fan blasting directly on him. No wonder. He's young.

Add all this to the fact I no longer consider 8 o'clock dinner time, and boom. I'm a major blue haired senior citizen. By 6 o'clock my stomach is raring to go. Besides, dining at that hour leaves me plenty of time for after dinner snacking. I just can't believe it. For YEARS I was happy to go out later. Happy to eat later. And happy to stay out later. No more, my friend.

Before my rapid aging process struck with such vengeance, I used to know faces of all the celebs, words to the latest songs, when award shows were on, and who the hottest designers were. Today, I hardly know Brittany Spears from Jessica Simpson. I have no clue what Lindsey Lohan looks like. Actually, I'm impressed I even know their names. Chet Huntley... now, that's more my speed.

What's scary, is that all this happened within a few short years. It's like one minute I'm still young at heart and then POW. The next minute, I'm turning into my parents. If I had to guess, I'd say it took about three short years for me to age a fast 10. What the hell's going on here?

And, let's not forget my getting up 3x a night to use the bathroom. Nor my driving at almost the exact posted speed limit. Nor the ever popular... forgetting what the hell I'm talking about, right in the middle of a sentence! Don't even get me started on the television volume. Suffice it to say, by the time Medicare kicks in, I'll be prepped for it, but good.

MAKE ME FAMOUS... WIN A PRIZE!

Things in my house have a way of mysteriously disappearing. One minute something is in it's place, just where I left it and boom. The next minute, it's gone. Right into thin air. No where to be found. Total mystery as to it's whereabouts.

I long ago gave up fretting whenever these mysteries occurred. Instead, I developed a two fold strategy in dealing with them: 1.) I looked absolutely everywhere for the item. More than once, but never more than three times. Then, I gave up and 2.) announced to my housekeeper, "Here we go again. We have another mystery!" In the past 35 years I've had oh... maybe 5 or 6 housekeepers, let's say. Every one of them came to know exactly what those words meant. Because immediately AFTER my announcement, the very next sentence out of my mouth was, "My (so and so) is gone, so if you find it, YOU GET A PRIZE! YIPPEE! It worked like a charm 35 years ago. It works like a charm to this day. I lose something. I announce the latest mystery. I promise a prize when it's found. And Bingo! The next thing you know, I'm off to the store, selecting a reward. End of mystery. It's a fabulous method for retrieving absolutely anything that suddenly develops legs and walks away.

Hence, I've discovered that incentives/briberies/prizes are good things. Kind of like a Win/Win Situation for all parties involved. Which is where you come in. I NEED YOUR HELP. I'LL GIVE YOU A PRIZE. A REALLY GOOD ONE, TOO!

I've decided I'd like my Blog to become famous. I also decided there is no way I can do it alone. Enter: YOU! I'm thinking that, if every person I know, reads my blog and then sends the link to every person THEY know, sooner or later, the Blog will be read by SOMEone who can make me famous! Ex: Your cousin Clive knows Margery, the lady down the street, who's sister now works for Rosanna, who once answered the phones at DoubleDay when Jackie Kennedy was an editor, and who also had an illicit affair with Myron, the Go-To guy at the Village Voice. You send Myron my blog link, he then reads it and NEXT THING WE KNOW, HE MAKES ME FAMOUS!! Talk about thrilling!! And, more importantly, talk about WHAT A GREAT PRIZE YOU'LL GET!! A REALLY STUPENDOUS ONE! I promise!!

So... here's my request/plea to you, my reader. Please send the link to my Blog... Blog Heaven... to everyone you ever met; and please tell them to send it to everyone THEY ever met. Then.... let's just sit back and see exactly how long it takes to make me famous! And... let's see exactly WHICH ONE of my friends will be responsible for turning me into one hell of a famous woman! Easy enough? You bet it is... so RIGHT NOW... drag/copy the link into new email and send it off to absolutely EVERYONE you know.

May the best my best PR Agent win! And above all, thanks for making me famous!

P.S. Note the envelope icon at the end of each post. It allows you to email that specific post. Or... You can instead, send the link I mentioned above, which will include all posts. GOOD LUCK. I'm off to check out the cost of a new Rolls-Royce Motor Car.

BONNY PRINCE CHARLIE

Supposedly, when my sister was a very little girl, our housekeeper Ada, used to tell my mother that Claudia was going to grow up and marry the other big name baby of the times... Prince Charles. So much for Ada's predictions; turns out Claudia married Barry while Charles married Diana. So I find it ironic that in late August of each year, when Claudia celebrates her wedding anniversary, Charles commerates Diana's death.

As it happens, I'm a sort of pseudo expert on the British Monarchy, dating from Queen Victoria to Queen Elizabeth II. Therefore, I'm pretty much hooked into a LOT of behind the scenes biographical info on each of the monarchy big shots, beginning in 1850. So hooked in fact, that once I even taught a class at the local Junior College about them. I was way too young in 1953 to watch the first ever televised British world wide event of the crowning of the present Queen. But I was WAY prepared for the next one... the marriage of Charles and Diana. In fact, thanks to them I bought my first VCR. I didn't want to miss a single second of broadcasting and to this day, I have all my monarchy tapes safely stored in case I ever have a great-granddaughter. She'll easily be able to get an A+ for including in her report a fabulous historical video. Of course it will be of no use by then, since everthing will be on DVD only, rendering VHS obsolete. But, whatever.

In the meantime, on the Diana vs. Charles deal, I definitely come down on the side of Diana. Charles is, simply put, a major schmuck. He had a remarkable opportunity to take this smitten, stunning, willing and most importantly, virginal young lady and offer to her security, devotion, love, commitment and adoration. Diana was clearly putty in his hands; his wish was her command.

Unfortunately, his wish was: to keep shagging Camilla. Thereby infusing Diana with insecurity, marital misery, complete mistrust and emotional instablility. How DARE Charles do this!! Off with his head!! (yeah, and that one, too!) His chosen Princess walked down the aisle with such promise and beauty and boom! The next thing you know, the Prince is still carrying on with (spare me) ... Camilla. Possibly the most unattractive woman I've ever seen. Is he NUTS?? BLIND? A TOTAL schmuck?? Apparently, yes. Okay... so Charles deeply loved Camilla. I get it. Then, why not this thought? UH... DON'T MARRY DIANA. That's a toughie to figure out?? Apparently, yes. Well, I too have a wish. I wish Diana posthumously takes revenge. I wish also (God forgive me) that Diana is able to take it in a really potent way; one that will absolutely floor, forever affect and viciously attack Charles and Camilla. This wish is a possiblity? Apparently no. On the other hand... I've got a really deep seeded revenge problem? Apparently yes.

LEFT. LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT

So I was in the shower the other night and I had a recurring thought. What if something, God forbid, happened to me and I could no longer use my right hand? Therefore, how would I bathe myself, comb my hair or brush my teeth? Not to mention how I'd ever put on a bra. Therefore, I was thinking that the Medical Community should promote LEFT RIGHT DAY. Maybe once a month, let's say. That way, everyone, on that specified day, would try practicing all their grooming, dialing phones, whatever, using their opposite hand! Now wait... it's not altogether a bad idea when you really think about it. After lots of practice, I'll bet we'll become WAY more adept in living were we to ever to lose use of our predominant hand.

Besides, look at how much we'll save the insurance companies, once they realize we won't need visiting nurses as often. And, imagine how thrilled our kids will be, knowing they won't have to come over as much to reluctantly take over a lot of the chores we'll have listed for them. (this alone, should make our kids glow) Actually, now that I think about it, once we give the bank our new scribbled signatures, forging scammed checks from senior citizens will almost become impossible. What a deal!

I seem to do a lot of thinking when I'm the shower. Some sing. I develop ideas. Like the one I've often touted to friends whereby I'd like send a script to Woody Allen. I decided he could make a hilarious movie out of the idea that: there's a dying old man in his sick bed. Enter: family members. In order to appease all of the old guy's disappointments, the family members come over to his bed and one by one, they whisper in his ear how they (fictitiously) tell him not to worry. Everyone will be fine once he's gone. The drab, boring, single daughter tells the man how she has found the love of her life and is soon to be married to a wonderful Wall Street banker. The doofy, lazy son tells him how he's been accepted to the Wharton School of Finance, committed to earning a prestigious degree. Even the fat, introverted daughter of Cousin Mabel tells the ole codger Guess what? She's had been approached by a high fashion modeling agency who wants to offer a gastro by-pass, lose over 100lbs., document her metamorphosis, after which they'll put her on a Parisian runway! The scenarios can go on and on. THEN... LO AND BEHOLD... good news... the dying old man makes a MIRACULOUS recovery! He won't die after all!! Uh... that's the good news for Gramps. It's WAY bad news for the family since they now have to actually ACCOMPLISH all they said they would. How all that comes about, could be the makings of a simply rip roaring funny movie. Which is why I need Woody Allen to direct this. I'd die myself, were my incredibly funny movie fall into the hands of some loser movie producer who screws up the whole thing.

Apparently taking a shower brings out the best of my creative ideas. They also bring out my many fears of possible medical mishaps. Oh well.

P.S./WARNING: If ever I find out that my ideas come to fruition in any way whereby I am not reimbursed/credited as sole creator, you WILL be prosecuted. And, hopefully fined.

I SO LOVE THIS

See this guy? He's given me the greatest chuckle since I don't know when. The only other person I can think of who would love it as much as I, is my Mother and unfortunately, she isn't alive to view him. She would have gotten such a kick out this guy... touting his trout and uh... his trout. This of course is why the internet is so great. One minute you're smiling for a friend and a camera and boom. The next minute you're around the entire world three times, in everyone's mailbox. So... there's a few questions I'm curious about:

1. Did the friend taking this picture COMPLETELY miss out on the lower trout bit?
2. Did the guy in the pict not even KNOW he's hanging out in fresh air?
3. Did the person developing the film upload the pict to the internet or...
4. Did the person taking the picture do this as a mere favor to his fishing buddy?
5. Does the guy even KNOW he's been traveling the net into a zillion mailboxes? And...
6. Does this guy's relatives know his family jewels are so exposed?

Oh... and, as for the jewels themselves... they do seem pretty gem like, don't you think? Not bad, for being someone's Grandfather. So much for fish stories. I just pray this fisherman never sees his picture on this blog. Forget about fish bait... I could become JAIL bait! EEEKS

ON DEMAND

When my son was born, I made my decision right then and there, that I would attend to him "on demand". I would feed him whenever he wanted, let him sleep as long as he wanted and pick him up whenever he wanted. For instance... to me, waking a sleeping baby borders on abuse. If the baby were REALLY finished sleeping, then the baby would be up! If a baby is crying, who in their right mind would just let the baby cry for fear of spoiling it?? Give me a break... IT'S A BABY. Hold it. Help it. Coddle it. Love it.

I'm the type who almost point daggers at those mothers who are into "training" their infants. Are they kidding?? Training 3 month olds?? That's crazy. "Sorry my sweet baby... I know you're hungry and crying but you've still got another hour and a half before I'll give you your next bottle, so uh... deal with it!" Geez... you've GOT to be kidding.


Therefore, my baby's wish was basically my command. For which I have to thank him. I decided way back then that if "on demand" was good enough for my baby, then by all means, it was good enough for me, too. Thus, to this day, I nap if I'm tired. I eat if I'm hungry. I forget about chores if I'm not in the right mindset. And, best of all, I hire help if I don't feel like doing it myself. When you get right down to it, pampering my baby was my delight; now that my baby is grown, pampering MYSELF has become my delight.

Ironically however, I am far from a demanding woman. Go figure.

NUTRI-NOXIOUS

Okay. That does it. When Nutri-System starts running it's TV ads (over and over, no less) showing us how the lady is back into a size 2, it's time to give up dieting forEVER. Who the F*#% do they think they are?? How DARE they show us women who have succeeded getting back into their size 4 or (gasp) 2!! If they think I'll EVER select Nutri-System after seeing who they're targeting, they're WAY off base. My rule of thumb: anyone following a diet to wear these sizes in just a mere few weeks is no one who's recommendations I'LL ever follow. On the other hand, there IS no weight loss program I'm interested in following, other than of course, my already proven high carb diet. It seems to work like a charm in helping to maintain my current personally accepted, well established chubbiness. To quote the lady in on TV, "any diet that lets you eat chocolate everyday, that's the diet for me!" Bingo. I'm sticking to high carbs.

THEN AND NOW

Back then, I could hold him.
Now, he could hold me.
Back then, I bent down.
Now, I look up.
Back then, I would sing to him.
Now, I ask him who's singing.
Back then, I smiled as he grew older.
Now, I wished he were young.
Back then, I knew what was best.
Now... uh... I still do.

NOW YOU SEE IT, NOW YOU DON'T

See that tag line below my Blog Title?? Stare at it. Glory in it. Bow to it. It took me about two and half weeks to create it.

I swear... the template for this site is about to drive me bonkers. Bear in mind, I'm sort of adept at HTML editing and coding. (the language used to create all web pages) I taught myself how to create a web site several years ago. It's mildly complicated. Or, at least it used to be. Nowadays, you can easily download web editing software and develop your own web page. Bingo. You're on your way.

Therefore, I'm not a complete dummy. Well, not until I came across this blogging template bit. It should have taken three minutes, tops, to have added those few words. No such luck. And, now that I finally DID figure it out, half the time the wording comes up correctly. Half the time it doesn't. Bottom line: sometimes you'll see it. Sometimes you won't.

I HAVE A FOLLOWING??

Uh-oh. Just yesterday I was raving about Francine and her ability to spot a great blog when she sees one. Next thing I know, Wilma sends me an email telling me how thrilled she is that she rechecked my blog for updates. And boy, what glowing things she had to say! My God... who KNEW I was beginning to gather fans? Okay, okay. I know. They're merely being nice, but still, it's fun hearing from them. (do two kind people REALLY form a fan base??) Regardless, to prove what a sagacious woman Wilma is (as opposed to what a simply talented writer I am) I'm including the following quote: "What a hoot! I think you should take up comedy writing...try a script for a sitcom." CAN YOU IMAGINE?? If ever I were to see credits on Curb Your Enthusiasm with MY name listed, I'd have little time to celebrate. I'd fall over dead from a thrilling heart attack way before I could enjoy the moment. Let alone, before any check came rolling in. So much for easy come, easy go. By the way, see Wilma's picture? She's wearing the scarf I made for her. (yet another of my many talents, she says with humility)

In the meantime, you can well imagine how deeply I gasped when I heard that Ken Lay went to the great beyond today. Now, I'm not completely heartless, thus I do feel very sad for the loss his family must be feeling. On the other hand, talk about having to choose the lesser of two evils. Way to avoid 45 years in prison, if I do say so myself. And trust me... he deserved every day of the slammer sentence. Proving once again... timing is everything.

FAVORITES

Being a favorite of mine has both it's ups and downs. The good news is: I really mean it when I label something/someone my favorite. The bad news is: I've got ZILLIONS of favorites, all in the same catagory, too. Thus, being my All Time Number One Favorite is an almost unattainable position. Unless you're Elton John. While I used to place him right up there with Tina Turner and Billy Joel, Elton easily moved to the top slot via some of his songs from the 90's and his incredible live performances. Yes, Tina and Billy took me to heaven during their concerts, but Elton had the best ride. Even my three favorite foods (doughnuts, french fries and Florida lobster tails) have no clear cut winner... they are all equally my favorites.

Which brings me to a favorite friend. As with other categories, I've indeed got a zillion favorite friends, all of whom I love and adore. I could never choose the All Time Number One. There are simply too many. On the other hand, today, Francine just increased her chances for a major postition of upward mobility on the list of Lists. She not only checks my blog, but also sent me an eCard complimenting me on it, telling me she actually got a kick of the Star Jones entry. (I love astute people!) On top of that, Francine is absolutely adorable and is wonderful to look at, speak to, and be with. She's definitely amongst my more brainy friends, and admittably, I do love intellect. I also love bright smiles, quick wit and fine taste. Francine has all of that. Which is why I'm bestowing upon Francine my FIRST EVER FRIEND TO BE SPECIFICALLY NOTED IN A BLOG prize. Not to mention, first ever to take over my picture spotlight. Hooray for Francine... I BEARly know what to say.