Saturday, November 4, 2017


I just booked a flight to Florida to get away for a few days and was pleased and surprised to see the many fares from which I could choose (I was a journalism major so I know not to end with a proposition…or is it preposition?)  Here were my choices from most expensive to least expensive:

VIP SEATING (otherwise known as Tax Reform Bill beneficiaries):  You will be warmly welcomed by the airline staff.  Free libations, snacks, blankets, reclining seats, pillows, foot massage, paraffin treatment for your hands, liposuction and early boarding. A limo awaits your arrival.

YOU THINK YOU ARE RICH, BUT YOU’RE NOT SEATING:  (otherwise known as Tax Reform Bill wanna be beneficiaries): Airline staff wave at you upon boarding.  Your seat reclines almost all the way back, but not quite.  Only one foot gets massaged, and one hand gets a paraffin treatment.  No liposuction, but a meat baster is available. A pillow, but BYOB (bring your own blankie). Directions to the cab stand are provided.

UPPER MIDDLE CLASS SEATING: (otherwise known as possible Tax Reform Bill beneficiaries depending on how many children and how many houses you own):  Airline staff smile upon boarding.  Your seat reclines and then pops back up in a secure and upright position.  Anything you want, you can have.  You just have to fork over your 401K to pay for it.  You are allowed to look at your hands and feet but not your ass.  Find your way home.

MIDDLE CLASS SEATING: (otherwise known as thought you were benefiting from the Tax Reform Bill, but you were wrong): Airline staff laugh at you when boarding. You are lucky to have a seat so stop bitching. You get to see pictures of what everyone in the forward cabins are eating and drinking that are not available to you. You can look at your hands, but not your feet and certainly not your ass.  Home?

YOU CALL THIS A SEAT SEATING?  (otherwise known as you get what you pay for):  Airline staff pretend not to notice you.  Your luggage is your seat.  No food, no drinks, no pictures, no windows!  Blinders are available so you don’t have to see others enjoying their flying experience (at a cost). One free potty trip.  You are not allowed to see your hands or your feet, but since your ass is hanging off the back of your luggage seat, they can’t stop you from looking at it.  There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.

Obviously, I could not afford the first 3 seating classes.  So, I’m checking out my backside as much as possible before my trip so I don’t forget what it looks like.  My campaign slogan for 2018 is Make Airlines Great Again!!

Friday, June 30, 2017

Kids Might Say the Darndest Things, but Look Out for Granny!

                                              Image result for kids say the darndest things                                                           

Children say the “darndest” things.  Well, I’m here to tell you I have been known to say the “damndest” things as I have aged.  Here are a few:

·        Forgive me for I would love to sin again
·        Tell me, does this fat make my butt look big?
·        I’m taking a 12 week online course.  When finished, I should be able to change the channel on my television.
·        Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is …  that looking back at me?
·        When you are young, farting is funny.  When you are old, it’s just a fact of life.
·        I love to play with my 2 year old grandson because I usually win every game.  But not always.
·        Now where did I leave my G Spot?
·        They say “It’s only money”. They say that because they have some.
·        When in Rome, do as the “Roamings” do.  And when you are roaming and can’t find your way home, do as I do… call Uber.
·        I just saw the musical “Anything Goes”.   It made me laugh.  So I went.  Damn that bladder.
·        Rudyard Kipling wrote “never the twain shall meet”.  Well, I met a twain in Cleveland and took it to Denver.  So I don’t know what he was talking about.
·         As a Virgo, I am shy and don’t like being the center of attention.  Huh? 
·        I was recently stopped by a local policeman for a “California Roll” (it’s a traffic violation). Since he mentioned it, I asked if he wanted to go out for sushi.  I was hoping he would frisk me (see the first entry on this list).   I am hoping to be paroled soon.

Sunday, October 16, 2016

My Memory Foam Mattress Has Dementia

I am saddened to announce that my Memory Foam Mattress is showing signs of early dementia.  It’s been coming on slowly, but last night when I expected my mattress (I call him Matt) to couch me in sublime comfort, instead Matt seemed confused.  Where I typically sink into the softness, Matt pushed back, dipping where I billow and billowing where I dip. And what’s worse, I count on Matt to be my backup memory on so many things (when you pay big bucks for a memory foam mattress you expect more than just a good night’s sleep).  Like how many times did I get up at night?  How many times did I sweat through my nightie? When did I last wash my sheets?  Did I pee while I was sleeping? How many times did I call out a man’s name, and what was the name of the man...please remember what was the name of the man?

Matt and I have seen some good times….times I don’t remember but expected Matt to remember for me.  But things have changed.  Now I spend my time with Matt doing Fit Brain and other memory-enhancing apps.   I show Matt pictures of when he was just a little bunch of chemicals and when he grew into spongy foam, trying to bring back memories from his inception.   I don’t know if any of my efforts will work, so I’ve had to come up with Plan O.

Plan O stands for my little grandson, Ori.  He, too, is spongy and I love when he sinks into my loving arms.  I am counting on him to remember the sweetest moments we share together, remembering my laughter, my tears of joy, my total and complete love for him.  I can’t wait until he is old enough to spend the night at my house. And hey, if he can remember the names of any of the men I call out at night...any of them at all...then who needs a memory foam anyway?

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

My Latest Love/Hate Relationship

When was the last time you had one of these?  Well, honestly, I don’t care because this is about me and my latest one.  It’s not about a man or a woman or a child.  It’s not about food or politics or religion.  It’s about something important-- something that is vital to my life (LOVE) but depressing each time it happens (HATE).  Yes, you guessed it.  I have a love/hate relationship with my yoga/pilates class. 

It’s a short story that I will make longer if you don’t mind because I have to fill up the page.  It all started with my breast cancer (HATE).  My daughter who LOVES yoga was here for the surgery (HATE) and I decided I would take her to a yoga/pilates class at my gym.  Being the wonderful mother I am (LOVE), I took the class as well.  I actually really liked the class and realized how good it was for my health (LOVE).  But during these classes, depression sets in.  I could use medication to feel better, but I would rather gripe to you and just list what I HATE.

1)      There are mirrors.  Fine for those who look good but not so good for me who looks like Sponge Bob’s mother.

2)      The Warrior I position reminds me that I haven’t shaved my underarms for a week or more.  You’d think I would take care of that before the next class but you would be wrong because so many of the positions cause the blood to rush to my head and make me dizzy.

3)      The Warrior II position should be called the Chicken as my waddling underarms swing to and fro as I point forwards and backwards throwing me off balance.  Thus why when I put my mat down, no one wants to be near me for fear of a collision or two or three or more.

4)      The Warrior III position….well, I can hardly even talk about this one.  Standing on one foot with your arms out and your leg extended backwards.  I’m sure I saw this position in a Kama Sutra book.  I might have even tried it in my younger days.

5)      The pigeon position is a bunch of poop in my opinion.  You are supposed to bend your knee at an angle that is unnatural and then rest your torso on it.   Once in position, I have to call 911 to get me out of it.  It takes a village.

6)      The fold position is not difficult, just depressing.  You stand with your feel together and then bend forward.  In this position, I am seeing all kinds of things I prefer not to see….sagging knees, ugly veins, misshapen toes, hairy legs (see item #2 for explanation why this continues to be the case) to name a few.

7)      Any position that needs a sense of balance.  The only thing I can balance these days is my checkbook and that only happens occasionally.  And then when you have to balance and then lift one or more appendages off the ground, the thud you hear and occasional cursing is always coming from the very back corner where I am hiding.

8)      The Pilates Bridge position. This is where you lie on your back, bend your knees and hike yourself up onto your shoulders so you can have a perfect view of your breasts falling to each side of your chest.  Yea, can't have enough of that!

9)      The Pilates Happy Baby Pose is where you lie on your back, bend your knees in the air and grab your big toes.  This pose should be called the Happy Husband pose and for sure it is the Kama Sutra Book.

10)  I LOVE All Pilates poses where you have to sit on the floor with your feet in front of you and then ease yourself backwards until you are flat on the floor.  What I HATE is trying to raise yourself up.  That kind of grunting and groaning should be saved for the bathroom.

What I LOVE about yoga/pilates.

1)      Child’s pose.  Easy to get into and out of and you don’t see anything in between.

2)      Final relaxation pose.  I get to close my eyes and not be afraid of toppling over.

3)      Rolling up my mat.

Sadly, this Love/Hate relationship is doomed to continue because the result is better flexibility (LOVE) but the process is depressing (HATE…see above 1-10).  And so it goes.

Friday, December 26, 2014

My NEW Year's Resolutions

2015.  Add the numbers together, subtract 2, add 100, multiply by 4, divide by 8 and you get a number that represents a year in my life I don’t even remember.  Now, take 2014 ….yes, take 2014, take it, take it, take it already.  I am giving it to you because it wasn’t one of my better ones.  So, before starting 2015, in order to make it one to remember, I have decided to share my New Year’s Resolutions so if I forget, at least I can ask you to remind me.  In all sincerity, here they are:

1:            Change my underwear once a week whether I need to or not (let's hear it for

2:            Shave my underarms so the one remaining hair doesn’t extend down my side

3:            Sell my condo…….although I probably have a better chance of selling a condom than my
               condo but a girl can hope and pray and plead and beg and just cry.  To prevent such an
               occurrence, just send me a check for $379,000 and I’ll send you the keys to your dream
               home and I can get rid of my nightmare

4:            Stop backing into cars with mine so as to prevent the continual $250 deductible that
               could buy such things as underarm razors
5:            Stop offering to show off my radiated breast which became a daily procedure for 6
               weeks and is now a habit I can't seem to break

6:            Remember things, stuff, people’s names, faces, addresses, pickleball scores, directions,
               appointments, basic things relating to daily living, stuff, people’s names, faces,
               addresses, pickelball scores, direction, appointments…..I really have to work on this one

 7:           Stop reading books I have already read, seem familiar but can’t stop reading until I
                remember who “dun it” which doesn’t occur until the last page at which time I exclaim
                “I knew I read this book before!” and proceed to forget what I just read.

8:            Be thankful every day for every day……………………that I can show my radiated breast to
               someone (some habits are hard to break)

9:            Lose weight…………..believe Santa is real, fly away with Peter Pan, invite the boogie man
               under my bed to dinner and other fantasies that are as likely to happen as losing weight

10:          Work on brain exercises so I don’t have to make lists, one of which I have in front of me
                that lists working on brain exercises so I don’t have to make lists but without the list in
                front of me I won’t remember to work on brain exercises. 

11:          Move again  ……hey, it’s been 6 years and the ink is beginning to dry in your address

12:          Tell my friends and family who have supported me these past 3 years since Mark died
                and through the last 5 months of cancer treatments how much I love and cherish them
                with all my heart and with my radiated breast.

The list which I am trying not to make any more given my brain exercises which should help me remember not to make lists is done for 2015 or as I like to call it “53”, the year I can’t remember.  So good buy 2014, may you be rear ended by a car (probably mine) and be forgotten, which could happen any minute now.  Happy New Year!

Friday, September 19, 2014


On September 20th, my boob (let’s call her Boo) and I will be 66.  It seems like only yesterday when Boo was a simple nub, and I was more interested in my mother’s breast than my own.  In those years Boo and her twin Hoo ran free allowing the wind to cool them in the heat of the Kansas City summer.
Then, as time wore on, mother declared that I had to put a shirt on so as not to entice the neighbor boys.  Mother was a bit premature in that it was MANY MANY MANY MANY years before Boo and Hoo would have any effect on boys.  But I went along with the gag and kept an eye on their development.  At age 11 mom pretended I needed some support, strapping me into a “training bra”.  She simply failed to explain what I was training for.  Then we started with the alphabet going from a size A to a size A to a size A to a size A+. 
High school was a “bust”!!  (Boo made me do it while Hoo objected).  I made it to a size B with a lot of help from Kleenex which wouldn’t have been so bad except I forgot to remove it when I went into the swimming pool.  Try and explain floating soggy pieces of tissue circling you like sharks.  College brought a bit more activity to the scene but Boo and Hoo were still underutilized in my opinion.
After college, things perked up and so did Boo and Hoo.  Finally, there was some enticing going on but also disappointment in that I could have been going shirtless for over 21 years without anyone noticing.  And then there was Mark.  The guy who enticed me!  With the births of Rachel and Ali, Boo and Hoo went into full gear and I declared myself a “Woman”!  What this means is I made it to a size C, at least while I was nursing.  For the first time shirts were tight across my chest and I only needed Kleenex for their true purpose, drying my tears of joy!
Then I hit 40, and then 50 or rather they hit me.  First my waist expanded, then the thighs enlarged, then the underarm flapping began.  I felt like I was a turkey being plumped up for an upcoming holiday. By age 60 I was at my fighting weight…fighting to get below my delivery weight.  Boo and Hoo were thrilled as they had reached their peak of performance.  Sadly, at this age there were no more neighbor boys to entice.  And I’m sure I’m not exaggerating when I say I saw a look of sadness in my GYNO’s eyes when I had my exams. 
A little attention, that’s all B&H needed.  And then I got it!  After many years of clear mammograms, this year’s exam proved to be lethal, but in a good way.  Cancer, the size of a pin head, was detected in Boo and the party began.  I thought for sure Boo and Hoo would explode or pop like pimples from all the compressions they endured.  Mentally I was doing okay but physically….egh…not so much.  Finding a vein for blood draws or IVs was like mining for gold in the desert.  Boo was subjected to a biopsy with little complaint.  Hoo felt bad for Boo but was thrilled she didn’t have to have one.
Except for the EKG coming back as abnormal and being told I had had a heart attack which turned out not to be true nearly giving me a heart attack which would have been true had it been true.  Then the breast MRI came back abnormal in Hoo which took another year off of my life (not to mention what it did to Hoo) which turned out not to be true but I was over having a heart attack had it been true, which it was not. 
The day of surgery arrived.  With Ali and 2 friends in tow, we marched into the hospital at 6:45 a.m. I had to get the worst part over quickly, having my weight taken.  After that trauma, I asked for a sedative as I had 4 hours of procedures to endure before the actual surgery.  I was told I had to be awake which caused B&H to head for the exit with me following close behind.  To no avail, we headed for the first procedure…putting a wire in Boo to identify where the last of the cancer was hiding after the biopsy disintegrated the tumor.  I swear I could hear Sirius radio stations coming out of that wire which was quite calming.  It was playing my favorite music…Queen.  I actually gave the royal wave as I was being rolled from procedure to procedure.
Next up was the radiation room.  When I was told Boo was going to get 6 needle injections of radioactive dye, Boo and Hoo were actually BooHooing.  But a boob has to do what a boob has to do.  Once the screaming subsided, I was glowing….literally glowing!  The best part was that after the injections, Boo had to be massaged for 15 seconds every 15 minutes.  I tried to convince the good looking resident to help me accomplish this task, but I couldn’t entice him.  Perhaps I should have called one of the boys from the old neighborhood that mother thought was enticeable.
Finally the time came for surgery.  And would you believe it….that is when they gave me the sedative….minutes before I was rolled into the operating room to be given a general anesthetic.  I apologized up front for anything I might say due to the effects of the Versed.  I’m told I said, “This is no way to spend my birthday”, “Tell them I have a small throat”, and “Who is going to make me my pineapple upside down cake for my birthday”.  Luckily I had nothing to apologize for which was a concern.
Surgery only took 45 minutes.  But recovery, due to the double whammy of Versed and the general took another 5 hours before I could return home.  Boo is doing quite well, and the results are all good.  More fun is to come in terms of radiation and such.  Boo has had enough attention to cover another 66 years. And I am working with Hoo trying to explain that she is just as good as Boo but has her own talent and shouldn’t compare herself to Boo. 
Going forward, Boo and Hoo and I will be just fine.  The BooHooing is over as is the glowing.  Damn.  Life is good and the future is bright….but no glowing.  Damn.  The many prayers and positive energy (but no glowing. Damn) made a difference and continues to shine a light (but no glowing.  Damn) on me.  Today is the best day of my life.  I’m still a size C and ready for enticing!  Call in the neighbor boys!

Saturday, July 12, 2014

The Eyes Have It!

I recently had an eye exam and was told I needed to change the way I perceive things.  So I decided to rid myself of contacts and go back to glasses.  With this change I decided I wouldn’t see things as black or white, good or bad, high or low, in or out, perfect or….well, I think I can make an exception as to how I perceive myself on that one.

So, with this new outlook, I started looking around and wanted to share my new view of my world.  Because when you change your perception, you can change the outcome.  Here’s my list:

Item                                                      Old Perception                                 New Perception

Flood in Davenport                            Disaster                                              Front and backyard pool

My Body                                              Droopy Everything                           Proving Gravity Exists

Political Ads                                         Shoot Me                                           Paying for a DVR is great

Mammograms                                    Discomfort                                         Reminds me how I love
Children                                               I take care of them                          They will take care of me

Pickleball                                             Great exercise                                   A way to pop a tendon

Sex                                                        Great exercise                                  Female.  What you check on

Parking Lots                                        Place to park your car                      Great exercise looking for
                                                                                                                           said car

Airplane Travel                                   Irritable Bowel Syndrome               AMTRAK is my friend

Sleep                                                     What I used to get                           Chance to eat 3 more times

Crocheting Doilies                              What old people do                         What vibrant age advancing
                                                                                                                            people do

AARP                                                     What me?                                          Me

Words with Friends                           Good Challenge                                 Losing is Fun….sure!

Losing Body Hair                                OMG!                                                   Ooh La La

Going Gray                                          Getting Old Sucks                              Blondes have more fun. 

Forgetfulness                                     Fear of Dementia                               Great excuse for

And the list goes on, but I don’t.  The point is, I am trying to see the world in a new way.  The world as a beautiful place, filled with beautiful people loving and laughing, helping one another, doing no harm, working together as one people, no preconceived notions, no disease and no hatred.  I think they call that smoking weed.  And since I don’t live in a state where that is legal, I’ll just have to wear my new glasses and do what I can to make MY world a better place.  Join me?