Wednesday, March 31, 2010

To the Buff Broad on the Bike

Do you suppose that's what that skinny broad at the gym is thinking when she gets a load of Moi, trudging my oversized carcas to the Silver Sneakers Class?  I mean there's so much more to me than she.  (I know that's grammatically incorrect, but I liked the rhyme--rhyme and alliteration are  the way I roll!)  I have "more to love," more gray hair, and more life experience.  Somehow, I doubt she envies me.  But I sure envy her!

 When I was young, there were very few gyms and it wasn't lady-like to sweat. Somehow, for me, staying slim and trim took a back seat to trying to hold a failing marriage together, then to working full time and being a single mom .  Today I wish I'd taken better care of myself!  Unfortunately we don't get a do-over in life; unless there's some truth to Edgar Cayce's theory of reincarnation.  (Look him up on Wikipedia if you're intrested.)  Since we probably don't get a do-over...

To the Buff Broad on the Bike:

Peddle, peddle, 'til you sweat;
I know that we have never met.
You work so hard, the peddles fly;
If I tried that, I'm sure I'd die!
Wish I'd been here at your age.
I'm not svelte, but I'm a sage.

Wise enough to know I'm not
Within reach of the shape you've got.
For far too long I sat on my butt,
And now I've got a pizza gut.
But I attend the "senior" class--
At least it get's me of my ass!

My advice?  Don't let it go,
That buff physique that you love so.
Don't let life and stress get in your way;
Exercise 'most every day.
Had I known then what now I do,
You can bet I'd be as buff as you!

poem by Eva Gallant


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Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Handling "The Change" (and we're not talking coins, here!)

Lately, I've been reading about some bloggers bouts with the symptoms of menopause.  Been there, done that.  For you young things out there, in case any explanation is necessary, it's sort of the opposite of puberty.  You may recall that puberty brought you monthly visits from your Aunt Flo; well, menopause is when Aunt Flo decides she's not visiting no mo.'   Now for me, that was the best news since Burt Reynolds decided to be the first nude centerfold in Playgirl Magazine!  Not so, for some ladies, though.

The signs of "the change" (how my Mom and my Aunt Madeline refered to it--in guarded whispers only), which can begin as early as when a woman is in her late thirties, or as late as in her early fiftiies, are very disconcerting for some.

 It's possible to experience sleeplessness; cutting out caffeine may help to alleviate that problem.  Then there's mood swings; in the space of five minutes or less, your disposition can go from being giddy with happiness to wanting to rearrange your hubby's facial features with a paring knife, to sobbing uncontrollably because it's autumn and the trees are shedding their leaves.

You may notice body changes; your waist may get thicker; you may  lose muscle and gain fat; your hoo-hah may get as dry as a vagabond lost in the Sahara desert( WD-40, anyone?). You begin to forget things, like why you left your car keys in the medicine cabinet, or your bra in the toaster.  There maybe other minor symptoms, but I can't seem to recall them at this time!

By far the most common and most complained about manifestation of menopause, or the period (no pun intended) when you're waiting for Aunt Flo to retire to Boca Raton, are those 30 second to 10 minute episodes when your internal thermometor hops on the express elevator to the top, commonly known as Hot Flashes.

Your face may become flushed, you break into a heavy sweat, and may even develop red blotches all over! 
It's embarassing and inconvenient when you have to run to a restroom to ring out your shirt, or change the sheets on your bed in the middle of the night because you suddenly find yourself in danger of floating away. Some try to find relief by keeping a spritzing bottle of ice water with them at all times.

But here in the northeast, in the winter time at least, we have found the ultimate solution to those pesky hot flashes:

Your welcome for the free tip!
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Monday, March 29, 2010

The Rest of the Story

In case some of you have noticed, I don't respond to many comments on my blog in the comments section; most of my commenters are responded to directly to their email.  If you are on blogger and you are not receiving response to comments in your email and would like to, it's an easy fix.

Many of you have already done this, but the other day one of my readers asked me how and was appreciative when I sent her an email with instructions.

Go to the dashboard screen of your blog; click on settings; click on comments; scroll all the way down to comment moderation; enter your email address in the space provided. That's all you have to do.  Then you will receive back your comment and the blogger's response.  No need to go back to the post to check for responses!

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

About ten days ago, I wote a post about my knee injury.  If you haven't read it, click here before going farther.  Read that post and return.  There was a little more to the story.  The night after my first day of training, I called my sons to let them know what was happening.  As I recounted the tale to  my youngest son Jason, when I came to the part about being naked on the floor, unable to get up, and worrying that I would have to call the desk, he spoke up.

"I've worked in a hotel, Mom.  Sure, you call the desk and the bellhop comes to the room and sees a naked  broad on the floor claiming she needs help, I know just what he's going to think:  "Sure, lady--right!"

 As Jason has a gift for doing, he made me laugh at the riduculous scene.  It's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you keep giggling at the implications of how a call for help might have been interpreted.  Later in the week, I called my sons again, just to stay in touch. 

"Mom, are you okay?"  Jason asked breathlessly.  "There's no one with you?"

"I'm fine, and yes, I'm alone," I responded.

"Thank goodness," he said with exaggerated relief.  "I just saw something on the news about some naked lady holding a bellhop hostage in her room, and I was afraid it was you!"  That was followed by peals of laughter from us both.  The acorn did not land far from the tree, I'm afraid!

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Sunday, March 28, 2010

Sundays in My Neck of the Woods

Talk about a great place to spend a weekend! This beautiful resort is about 1 hour and 15 minutes from me; about 3 hours from Boston. If you want to be pampered and enjoy beautiful views, maybe play a little golf, enjoy good food, and/or relax--this is the place.(Note: the video has music, so if you're at work, you might want to lower the volume on you computer before you click on the arrow.)

It is wonderful to live in Maine!

If you would like to learn more about this resort, visit their website by clicking here.

I have received no compensation for displaying this video; wish I had!
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Saturday, March 27, 2010

Some Saturday Silliness


She's sitting at the table with her gourmet coffee.
Her son is on the cover of the Wheaties box.
Her daughter is on the cover of Business Week...
Her boyfriend is on the cover of Playgirl.
And her husband is on the back of the milk carton



'Cash, check or charge?' I asked, after folding items the woman wished to purchase.
As she fumbled for her wallet , I noticed a remote control for a television set in her purse.
'So, do you always carry your TV remote?' I asked.
'No,' she replied, 'but my husband refused to come shopping with me,
and I figured this was the most evil thing I could do to him legally.'


I know I'm not going to understand women.
I'll never understand how you can take boiling hot wax,
pour it onto your upper thigh, rip the hair out by the root,
and still be afraid of a spider.


A man walks into a pharmacy and wanders up & down the aisles..
The sales girl notices him and asks him if she can help him.
He answers that he is looking for a box of tampons for his wife..
She directs him down the correct aisle.
A few minutes later, he deposits a huge bag of cotton balls and a ball of string on the counter.
She says, confused, 'Sir, I thought you were looking for some tampons for your wife?
He answers, 'You see, it's like this, yesterday, I sent my wife to the store
to get me a carton of cigarettes, and she came back with a tin of tobacco
and some rolling papers; cause it's sooo-ooo--oo- ooo much cheaper.
So, I figure if I have to roll my own .......... so does she.

(I figure this guy is the one on the milk carton!)



A couple drove down a country road for several miles, not saying a word.
An earlier discussion had led to an argument and
neither of them wanted to concede their position.
As they passed a barnyard of mules, goats, and pigs,
the husband asked sarcastically, 'Relatives of yours?'
'Yep,' the wife replied, 'in-laws.'


A man said to his wife one day, 'I don't know how you can be
so stupid and so beautiful all at the same time.
'The wife responded, 'Allow me to explain.
God made me beautiful so you would be attracted to me;
God made me stupid so I would be attracted to you !

The Silent Treatment
A man and his wife were having some problems at home
and were giving each other the silent treatment.
Suddenly, the man realized that the next day, he would need his wife to wake him
at 5:0 0 AM for an early morning business flight.
Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and LOSE), he wrote on a piece of paper,
'Please wake me at 5:00 AM.' He left it where he knew she would find it.
The next morning, the man woke up, only to discover it was 9:00 AM and he had missed his flight Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't wakened him,
when he noticed a piece of paper by the bed.
The paper said, 'It is 5:00 AM. Wake up.'

Men are not equipped for these kinds of contests.

Have a great day!

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Friday, March 26, 2010

Throwback Thursday: The year 1999

Happiness?  Jubilation?  I'm not sure which word best describes this photo.  The couple in the center:  my oldest son Eric and his new bride Kristen; on the groom, Eric's right (your left), is the bride's sister Kim; on the bride, Kristen's left (your right), is my younger son Jason.  Looking at this photo always  makes me smile!

(OMG!  I just realized that I did my Throwback Thursday on Friday!  My addiction has my brain so addled I don't know what day it is!)

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Thursday, March 25, 2010

My Biggest Loser

Since Hubby has developed a propensity to retain fluids, the cardiologist has told him that he must cut way back on his sodium intake, and weigh himself daily.  If he experiences more than a 3 pound weight gain, he is to call the doctor immediately!  He has lost nearly 40 pounds over the last 3 weeks.  No, he's not a contestant on the Biggest Loser, and he hasn't had Jillian or Bob beating his butt!  He was prescribed diuretics, and has been dropping the excess fluid. 

That being said, he decided we needed a new scale.  We had one that we couldn't read the numbers on without squinting.  We were given a new one by the doctor's office which has a circular face which is raised  about 5 inches from the base of the scale with large numbers which is easier to read, but you can step on it five different times in a five minute period and get five different readings!  Hubby went online to where we regularly make purchases and browsed around looking for a scale.  He found us a beauty!  It came the other day, and I have to admit, I'm impressed.

My Weigh Elite Series Bathroom Body Weight Scale - 400 lb

Voila!  The My Weigh Elite Series Body Weight Scale.  It is digital, which means it gives you pounds and ounces!  No more trying to figure out if the reading is for 120 and one/half pounds, or 120 and three/quarter pounds.  (Of course you know, this is my weight I'm using, strictly for reference purposes!)  Also, it's less than 2 inches thick very light-weight, and was priced at just $33.38!  What a deal.  I love it---well as much as you can love an appliance that delivers bad news on a regular basis!

 So now, a new morning ritual:  step on the scale.  Makes you think twice about downing that whole pepperoni pizza at dinner! (I'm not sure how this will affect my chocolate consumption; somethings are a necessity.  I'm just sayin'.)

 I have not been compensated for sharing this product information with you, but if you are looking for a new scale and want one that's realiable, compact, easy to read, registers up to 400 lbs., and you go to Amazon to purchase it, I will get a a small rebate. 
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Tuesday, March 23, 2010

What's For Lunch?

I first posted this in early June of last year; guess what?  Things haven't changed. Since at that time the only people that probably read it were my sister and someone who made an annonymous comment, I thought I'd post it again:

I've discovered a problem with being retired (in addition to the fixed income); husbands expect you to cook! Now don't get me wrong. I CAN cook; I sometimes even enjoy cooking. But preparing lunch and dinner everyday? I think not.

The obvious answer is to share the responsibility, right? So today I asked, "What are you making us for lunch, Joe?" After some hemming and hawing, it turned out that the chef at Thornton's (a new restaurant in the area) was cooking lunch. I'm not complaining; my sandwich and fries were delicious. I'm just afraid our budget can't absorb the expense of my husband "cooking" lunch with any frequency!

Maybe an abundance of sandwich and salad fixings in the fridge to allow for "do it yourself" lunches would be a solution; then at least I could cut back to preparing only one meal per day. The next trip to the supermarket will require a concerted effort to stock the pantry.
I'm not convinced we have to eat three meals a day anyhow; I know I could substitute Godiva chocolates for one. That, too, can strain the budget! Okay, so I'm spoiled. I want Godiva chocolates or Lindt truffles. Once one has savored the gourmet, it's difficult to settle for the store brand.

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Monday, March 22, 2010

How to Tell the Sex of a Fly

This is the cleanest E-mail joke

I've come across in a long while!

A woman walked into the kitchen to find her

husband stalking around with a fly swatter

"What are you doing?"

She asked.

"Hunting Flies"

He responded.

"Oh. ! Killing any?"

She asked.

"Yep, 3 males, 2 Females," he replied.

Intrigued, she asked.

"How can you tell them apart?"

He responded,

"3 were on a beer can,

2 were on the phone

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Sunday, March 21, 2010

Sundays in My Neck of the Woods

Alll of the things pictured are within 10 miles of my home.  Most are closer.

                  Lady walking her dog at Ferry Beach, Scarborough, Maine

                                        Lobster boat anchored off Ferry Beach.

Another shot at Ferry beach...sorry the horizon is a little crooked!  My bad.

Someone made an interest mailbox holder on Prouts Neck Road, Scarborough.

Bird houses in a back yard near Higgins Beach.

The surf at Higgins Beach, Scarborough, Maine

More of Higgins Beach.

With the temp in the low 60's, onlookers watch a surfer make his way out to the waves.

One of the two lighthouses at Two Lights Park in Cape Elizabeth, Maine.

A truckload of Lobster Buoys and a Pile of Lobster Traps, Cape Elizabeth area.
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Saturday, March 20, 2010

Some Saturday Silliness

A friend sent me these the other day, and I could not help but share these bits of humor with you!
First a little food for thought:

I have kleptomania,
But when it gets bad,

I take something for it.


Except that one where you're naked in church.

I may be schizophrenic,
But at least I have each other.



Sometimes I even put it in the food.


Reality is only an illusion
That occurs due to a lack of alcohol.

Then we have some t-shirts with little messages on them:

For those who love their jobs.

                                                             From wife to hubby.

                                                        For cat lovers everywhere.

                                                          So dog owners don't feel left out.

                                                              For men dealing with "issues."
                                                         For the ladies with "issues."

                                   For those who think children shoud be seen and not heard.

                                                           For those with guilt issues.

                                                          In Memoriam

With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week Larry LaPrise, the man who wrote "The Hokey Pokey", died peacefully at age 93.The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.

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Friday, March 19, 2010

Method Acting Class?

Many years ago, when my children were little, I was a SAHM (Stay at home Mom).  I had a degree in education and had been a teacher, prior to having children. When my husband needed to take a class at the University to renew his teaching certificate, I decided we should get a sitter one night a week, and I, too, would enroll in a class.  The only one that interested me that was held at the same timt and and on the same night as my husband's accounting class was Acting I.  As I was certified to teach English or Business subjects at the high school level, and had been advisor of the Drama Club at the schools where I had taught, it seemed a reasonable choice.  A close friend of mine was working on getting a teaching certificate in Art, so she found a an Art class she could take as well.  We lived about an hour from the University campus, so we elected to carpool.

It was a win/win situation; Hubs and I could get the required credits to renew our teaching credentials, my friend Linda (Name changed to protect the guilty) could work toward her Bachelor's Degree, we got to spend time socializing on the trip back and forth, and I got a night out without the cherubs.

I wish I could tell you the name of the instructor, because it was really a humorous name with a bit of accidental double entendre which was totally appropriate to how he taught, but again, I'm protecting the guilty, so I'll just call him Professor Perv.

Professor Perv was pushing fifty and told us right off the first night this would be unlike any class we had taken in the past.  There would be no textbooks, no desks, and we would start each class sitting on the floor .  There would be no furniture to distract us.  We should wear comfortable clothing that  would leave us free to move, as movement would be a large part of the training.

 I was quite skeptical of his "agenda" for the semester, and I decided from that point on decided that I  would approach this class with a little skepticism, low expectations, and high humor.  It was my night out, after all!
I was 29 or 30 years old and not exactly a novice to college classes.  Most of the students were 18 to 22, aspiring actors, hanging on his every word and gesture.

On the ride home that evening, I described the presentation and provided his printed "agenda" to my art major friend.  She pointed out that the final class was the final exam which would not be a written exam, but an "experiential" activity for which we needed to bring a friend.

"What the heck kind of course is this, " asked Hubs.
"Your guess is as good as mine, " I responded.
The second week of class, Professor Perv asked the prettiest little blonde in the class to come stand next to him, which she did, eagerly, like this was a command from God.
Then he told everyone to select a partner to work with.  We formed pairs and waited  instructions.

" I want you to use your partner as an object.  I will give you an example.  I'm going to pretend that Susan (fake name) is a submarine periscope."  
He told Susan to place her hands on her hips, which she did.  He then illustrated that she was indeed a submarine periscope, by placeing one hand on each of her upper arms and planting his face against her ample booobs,  (one eye probably against each nipple) and turning her body left and right, as he scanned the "horizon."
Now I had to stifle a gigle at this point.  To my amazement, the young students around me did not show any evidence that this action on his part was in anyway inappropriate, or even comical.  They just took it all in--soaking up this wonderful knowledge like lttle sponges!  Ah, the power of the title "Professor!"  We were told to use our partners as vacuum cleaners, tables, and other inanimate objects.  None of our choices lent themselved to suggestive activities, fortunately.  I will say, the Prof spent a great deal of time staring at the "horizon" through his periscope.

On the way home that evening, I regaled my fellow travelers with tales of my acting training.  Linda was laughing hysterically at the spectacles I described.!  She had a bit of a tale of her own; it seems the class was surprised to have  male and female nude models as subjects that evening.  This was 1974--a much more conservative climate than exists today;  nude models were still a novelty at a small University.>p>
Several of the art students were quite disconcerted by the experience, and a few nervouse giggles  could be heard.  Hubs was bemoaning the fact that he was the only one taking a boring class!

One week in my Acting class, we were lectured on the concept of staying in character.  Professor Perv said many times in stage acting there are distractions which can cause you to "break character," and this  results in a much lesser performance.  Our activity that night was to maintain eye-contact with our partner, no matter what transpired.

Again Prof Perv selected on of the lovely young coeds in the group to demonstrate how to keep eye contact with your partner (maintain character focus) under any and all circumstances.  The dewey-eyed damsel lay on the floor, per his instructions, and he proceeded to straddle her, prone, one hand on each side of her shoulders, and a foot on each side of her feet, and he was able to crawl around the room in that position, Dewey-eyed Damsel somehow crawling around under him on her back, maintaining eye contact and a straight face the entire time.  The youngsters in the class were all, "Wow!  Did you see that?  They never broke character once, not even under the piano!" I on the other hand, could not believe this guy! Biting my lower lip hard was the only thing that kept me from bursting out with a "Bwa hah hah hah!

(I know, at this point you probably think I'm making this up, but I swear, it all happened just as I'm describing it!)

Soon it was time for the Final Exam.  Linda suggested I bring her husband Bill (fake name) as my friend.  He was willing to come, as his wife had been amazing him with my theatrical tales,  My exam was starting an hour later than Hub's and Linda's classes, so we elected to go to a nearby pub for a drink.  Bill felt he needed a bit of liquid courage to prepare himself for this experience.   Over a couple of beers, he asked if the tales Linda had been telling were true.  "Every single one, I assured him."
Finally, sufficiently fortified, we went to my class

 The first task we were assigned was to form two circles, one inside the other;  students of the class in the inside circle, facing outward; "friends" in the outside circle facing inward.  We were to close our eyes and the two circles were to walk in opposite directions.  When told to stop, we were to join hands with the person facing us.  We were to take turns massaging each other's necks and shoulders.  Once again, Prof Perv had managed to stop opposite the Dewey-eyed Damsel and was tenderly massaging her neck and shoulders.  I glanced around and spotted forty-year-old Bill doing the same with a well-stacked brunette freshman.  When I caught his eye, he gave me a wink and a grin.  He definitely was enjoying my final exam.

Once everyone was sufficientlhy "loosened up" we were instructed to withdraw into ourselves and regress all the way back in evolution to a single-cell organism.  As we "withdrew," dropping to the floor, and in our minds getting smaller and smaller, the lights begin to dim, until when we reached the single cell stage, we were in pitch dark.  Now we were to progress forward, to earthworm, primate, etc.  We were to act and make sounds  like the creatures we were simulating.  Groans and moans issued through the darkened room..As we crawled around the floor in the dark, all of a sudden someone grabbed my butt.  I turned quickly and hissed, "Bill, that's me!"

"Oh, sorry!" he whispered back!
Professor Perv was narrating everything and as we began to return to human beings, the lights slowly became brighter.  Once everyone was up on their feet, we were told to form a "group hug" and that was the end of the final exam!  I pulled an A for my participation.  Had I been unable to control my inner hysterical laughter, I probably would not have fared nearly as well.

On the way home that last night of classes Bill and I shared our experiences with our unbelieving spouses.  Apparently their finals did not involve any massages or ass-grabbing!

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