You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch...

Hope you are all enjoying this faboo Sunday. Had a wonderful Christmas that included my parents and brother. We were able to visit friends for some cheer before sitting down to a sumptuous dinner. Mom and I attended mass that rounded out the day and the season.

Yesterday was spent at my darling sissy in laws (and brother in law, too) house for more of the same with Cheryl's Pumpkin Bread being my favorite thing!

So now it's that lovely day where I had intentions of going out but a day spent in pajamas ruled. The real world can wait. Mulled over gifts, ate popcorn for lunch, read and took a nap with Lola. Ahhhh, such peace.

Tomorrow brings a brief return to normalcy for a few days. Then New Year's Eve will descend and we hope to be skiing if we get a little more snow up north. Please do a naked snow dance if you are able!

Then the real routine settles back in. I always enjoy the quiet of January and general lack of activities. Got LOTS of books to get to.

But for now, I'm gonna heat up leftovers and maybe take another nap. Works for me. Hope everyone is having a sweet, peaceful day. We get so few of 'em! Wishing everyone the best holiday ever. xo

One Hundred Ways.....

Hello my Dollies! Can you believe that today I am posting my 100Th. post! Imagine that for just a minute. Going on two years, once a week, I have had something to share. Triviality and minutia being the most common topic.

It may have been an old memory for laughs, love of a pet, vacation updates, a missed Grandparent story, a random observation or pet peeve, or just a good old rant and rave session. Two times I have attempted non-fiction--something I would like to do more of. But you were there for me.

I have found this all to be fun, challenging, bittersweet at times--and a bit narcissistic. The photo's are fun and the closest thing to being a model a chubby 5'3" girl can get! Venting and remembering is also my therapy and escapism. Sometimes the old days just seemed better, even though Carly Simon reminds us that "these are the good old days." Better strive to make my days richer and fuller. Perspectives get clearer when put into words.

Which brings me to you, dear reader. You have taken the time to read and follow me on this little journey of self discovery. You have put up with my run in and on sentences and miss spelled words--before I discovered spell check. I love and use slang liberally and you tolerate! It was you (Walking Man) that suggested I use paragraphs. Good call, my wise sage. But I still have trouble getting the post to actually post the way I have written it. You have been my family, when at times I feel like an orphan in this city. I have purchased art thanks to Lana via Charles. Some of you are old friends and some of you are new friends. A wise prison educator worries the hell out of me. I have a lovely friend in India who shares her interesting life. Even weird Chinese guy found me, and left his little comment--in words I cannot understand and feel I definitely do not want to! I give a special hug and kiss to the ever gorgeous Michelle who inspired me to try to tell my tales. xo I have had the pleasure of meeting some of you and have been honored that you respect me and my 'little blog about nothing'. I have been likened to Elaine on "Seinfeld" many years ago! You have commented constructively and supportively (and very cleverly-Erik) and for this I am so grateful. How fun would it be to talk if no one listened?

Wishing you all the merriest of Christmas. Be safe and warm, reverent, loving and joyful. May visions of sugarplums dance in your heads. And may you wake in the morning to write about it. Love and kisses, j.

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood....

So, I come from a long line of golfers. My family is crazy about the game--kinda like a religion. But more feverish and intense. I say more like a cult. And I mean my WHOLE family. From Dad down to the smallest cousin--they have crazy embraced this thing. My Sister even met Tiger (yes, that Tiger) in Dubai once. (and no, She is not one of 'the nine'!)

Lessons from the pro, club lengths, widths, brands, etc. are considered to the smallest detail. Partners for tournaments and foursomes are practically a life and death matter. A tee time must be kept and you dare not be a minute late as the next group is standing around clearing their throats and tapping their toes. Most of the game is spent waiting, and half the time you can't even have a conversation. However, a "nice shot" in a low voice-preferably with a British accent is allowed. The whole thing is interminably long and is generally suffered thru on the hottest day of the summer. It is imperative that you have the proper rain gear to allow play to go on in even a severe storm. There is a special siren that rings to warn you of the threat of lightening pulverizing you into statue you on the spot. Having the sense to come in out of the rain only applies in the most dire situations.

The game is particularly suited for the out of shape athlete. Mostly you just drive a golf cart--a skill I learned later to be my personal specialty--one hand on cold beverage and one hand on the wheel. And unlike a tennis game, for example, there is a cutie pie piloting a special little bar on wheels to serve you a cold refreshment! Now, there's a thing that is truly thought out.

And don' t even get me going on the clothes!! On a family outing my Mom says, "You know, they do not allow tank tops at the country club. You have to wear a shirt with sleeves and a collar." Huh? Like with a little alligator on it? Perfect. Oh and she adds, " No short shorts allowed." And I say, "Please not those long plaid ones?!" Well, you guessed it. Golf shoes appear totally orthopedic and those little spikes aren't even CLOSE enough for heels for me! Some concern about the state of the putting greens or something...And I am NOT wearing that dopey visor!

So after purchasing a truly fugly outfit, I agree to go to "The Club" for the family outing. Yes, I have the cute golf bag with the animal club covers. I've relented and am wearing the polo and long shorts ensemble. The shoes are ghastly.

I get two or three holes under my belt and have the best time watching for the club resident fox and the snapping turtles by the water holes. Okay, kinda fun. I flag down beverage hottie and get a cold beer. Now, driving the ball is sort of a kick, but I quickly lose interest in the rest of the hole. I am scolded and told not to lay down on the green even tho it's 98 degrees in the shade. After enduring a few more holes and even getting in some good shots, I have had enough. My Mom remarks with one eyebrow up that I could really be quite good if I just put my mind to it.

As we finally finish the ninth hole, I am relieved and ready to head into the bar for a real cocktail. Just then someone announces that we have 'made the turn' and are ready for the back 9. Ohfercryin'outloud! Now, I know you are kidding me. I look up and see what appears to be a mirage but is really the cool blue waters of the pool,--complete with chaise lounges. See ya gang! I'm so done with this game. Heading to the pool. Look at the cute lifeguard! And send over that driving drink dude! My Dad reminds me--"NO bikini's".

Man, you guys are no fun at all. Enjoy your week whatever you are up to! xoxo

Eye of the Tiger....

Okay, so I gotta say something about the Tiger news. Everyone else has! I was up north for the Thanksgiving holiday at my parents' house when I heard of the accident involving Tiger Woods and his wife.

Upon first details it appeared that Tiger is such a horrible driver, that he couldn't even back out of his own driveway. The fact that it was 2:30 a.m. probably just meant that he was having a White Castle 'Crave Case' craving. Right? Then in his crazy frenzy, he forgot all driving skills except the ones he employs on the golf course. And doesn't Tiger pimp Buick's? Hmmmm. Guess the Caddy was more his style. Anyhoo, after literally knocking himself out, wife Elin comes to the rescue. She beats the hell out of the back window of the Caddy with his 'Big Bertha' club to make an attempt to extricate her husband. Yes, why wouldn't you do that (Elin 110 pounds, Tiger 200 pounds) and try to pull his heavy, unconscious body out the BACK window over a couple of rows of seats. Okaaay. Neighbors report that she was very distraught once his body was actually lying on the ground. It's not clear exactly how he got there. The vehicle damage did not appear to be 'jaws of life' worthy! Given the very private nature of Elin Woods, this must have been very hard to bear with the neighbors watching.

So now what. I know we are not supposed to judge, but it's hard when a personality sells himself as morally above reproach. Endorsements are sponsored and then based on his sterling character. People (not me!) consider his products because of this. And the numbers are reportedly BILLIONS! (billions spoken in an Dr. Evil voice with my pinky tucked into my dimple!)--both in sales and in dollars for Tiger and Elin. As she was beating the Escalade to death she was probably muttering, " Tiger, you big veenie! Vee're gonna be poor now! Vhat vill people sink?" We will have to wait and see how that all shakes out. Bye, bye Nike, Buick. etc.! Or not.

Here come the euphemisms. After all we are all only human, right? Sex has once again proved to be the great equalizer. Money can't buy you happiness. Things aren't always as they seem. Certainly, nobody's perfect. Tiger said so himself. A man is only human.

For those who blindly supposed that just because you are handsome, a spectacular golfer, a classy interviewee, married to a Swedish model, the father of two perfectly beautiful children, living in an exclusive neighborhood with bags of money--you must be satisfied. No, no and no.

In closing, I just gotta commend Tiger's spin doctors and p.r. people for having him at least tell some of the truth and own up to his errors. I maintain that if Bill Clinton would have done the same thing in the Monica thing, he would have fared much better. The public appears to be able to forgive an adulterer before forgiving a liar.

And so we carry on. My theory is like David Letterman, Tiger will be yesterdays news very soon. Thank God for all of us. P.S. Stay warm and cozy--it's gonna get COLD this week. xoxo

It's only Love....

Happy Thanksgiving weekend to everyone! We had a fabulous dinner hosted by friends Bill and Cindy and Bob and Julie. It was amazing with a looooong table decorated by the very talented Cindy with some help from my Goddaughter, Layne. xx We feasted! Joe, a darling retired fireman showed me the secret to the perfect turkey gravy and Cin and Jule's dressing was the best I've ever eaten! Usually our dinner is shared with family, but it worked out with friends on the actual day and family on the weekend. Thanks so much for the day and the dinner. Friends are something we are truly blessed with. Love you guys!

Shot up to Ossineke for the rest of the weekend. It was great to miss the holiday traffic by going a day late. (Very thankful!) Friday night was enjoyed at my Sister's restaurant Rosa's (can't believe I haven't bragged--I mean blogged about that place yet! Soon!) where I enjoyed a shrimp cocktail with shrimp the size of chicken legs and good bread. Yummy stuff. Laughed and hung out and decided that food and wine are taken for granted by most of us, but are truly on the top of my grateful list.

Saturday, we gathered for an old friends 50Th. birthday party. It was a surprise party and I was truly grateful NOT to be the honoree. I like attending but HATE to be the one to experience the mild heart attack when entering said affair. Always prefer a small, quiet affair where everyone isn't watching for my reaction! More friends, food, and family.......

My godchild (my first one) Nicole, teaches second grade and asked students what they were most thankful for. After lots of creative answers such as pets, nature, blankets, etc., one little girl just shrugged and said "love". Out of the mouths of babes...

So after all of my usual things: coffee, chocolate, friends and family, good wine and cheap champagne, health and security, freedom and faith--the greatest of these is love! I concur, little darling.

Love to all, you give me happiness and for this I am most thankful. xoxo P.S. I am also very thankful to Powerhouse gym where I will haul my big biscuit in the morning so Trainer Tony can knock some of the gravy off of it! Make way for the "Stuffing Butt Express"!

Found a Cure...

The swine flu epidemic and hassle over the do or do not of the H1N1 preventatives is scary and enough to make your head spin. This has me thinking of the old time cures that my Grampa and even parents used to look for back in the day. When the swiney went around in the 70's I remember it, and think I may have even had it. It didn't seem any more deadly than some other influenza's that were going around. But, it was the 70's and we had other things to worry about catching! (did, however, miss out on 'those' things!)

For instance, if we had an ear infection, my Dad would fire up a Salem, blow the warm yet cool menthol smoke in the offending ear, and have us lay with the throbbing ear on a pillow to hold in the smoke. It felt warm and we felt warm with all the 'special' attention. Maybe it worked. So, in the last few years I have read that smoke, first or secondhand, actually CONTRIBUTES to ear infections! Who knew? Seemed liked a good idea at the time.

When swimming, and we got a bloodsucker on our feet, again Dad was called to duty. He would get out his trusty lighter and fire the flame up on high. The offending gross thing, would get singed, curl up and drop off. And with any luck, our toes would escape third degree burns. The area was then doused with cold beer and we were back on our way. Crisis averted.

Got head lice? Pour kerosene over entire head. If that doesn't work, shave off all hair. That little nugget from Grampa Crevier. Made perfect sense--to him!

Never, I repeat, NEVER go to the doctor unless you are bleeding out of your eyeballs. The same goes for missing school. Antibiotics were just unnecessary. These things will just go away the same way they appeared--on their own. Rarely were fingers and toes ever xrayed. Didn't matter if they were swollen like sausages, and limpin' like lepers. Just soak 'em in Epsom Salts. Breaks, fractures or whatever would be just fine. You could learn to be ambidextrous. Or you could 'hop' on your good foot.

Lots of inferences to 'mustard poultices' were suggested by my Grampa. Gladly I didn't have to endure that particular cure. Got worms? Don't even ask. Castor oil will cure ya. Or kill ya.

My all time favorite (shock!) was the coughing cure. After just about hacking out our lungs (no antibiotic needed!) we were treated to the famous 'hot toddy'. You didn't have to ask me twice! A large shot of cheap whiskey with honey and sugar was heated up and delivered bedside. Sit up and drink this would be the prescription. After slammin' a highball of that, we would pass out with the whiskey burnin' our throats. Maybe had a headache upon waking, but much less severe on the coughing end of things. And the rest of the household could get some sleep, too.

Having trouble seeing the blackboard? Move to the front and eat more carrots. Simple enough.

Much mention for saltwater rinses, calamine lotion, vinegar, and Vick's vapor rub could pretty much round out the cures. The chicken noodle soup cure has been proved effective and with the famous 'whiskey potion', I think I am all set. Anyone got any special cures for me to consider? Please share. Love to all. xoxo

T.R.O.U.B.L.E......

So, the firearm deer season opens this week. I know it's official when I get an invite from an old friend, Gayle, imploring me to 'come up' and enjoy a ladies night out with the girls. I don't even have to ask what this is all about. It's a 'hunt' as old as the ages. And God above - it can't be good.

Let me explain. While growing up 'up north' the firearm deer season was met with mixed reviews. Rave reviews by local bars, restaurants, and grocers; horrible reviews by our parents. It made for wonderful increased income for the area and increased ulcers for our parents. Like the third week in August when the air base hosted thousands of trainees; during hunting season baby - there was new meat in town! My Mom and Dad used to practically lock us up to protect us from the 'fly boys' and the 'downstate hunters.' Had to watch out for their innocent little 'swamp angels.'

Little did they know...the girls in my group LOVED it. What was not to love? Our little town was FLOODED with guys. The grocery store and gas station were packed with dudes in new camo and expensive SUV's stocking up on supplies. They proved to be very helpful if we needed groceries hauled or gas pumped. How gallant! Yee Ha!

Okay, for Saturday night, me and my girlies would plan our perfect outfits, have a few pre-cocktails and hit the town. Primarily there were two main bars that were known for being a hunter's hang out. We arrived, sized up the dudes, got free drinks, and danced and flirted our asses off. We knew perfectly well that they had just gotten their wedding rings off (all hunters are single north of Standish) and they knew we were WAY too young for anything other than drinks and dancing. Perfect for both sides. Rarely did it lead to anything more. Up north chickies are notorious for 'flirting but not flopping'. And so it goes...

So with the opening of the season today (and none too soon, I might add) I officially pass the torch. Let's wish all hunters a safe and fun season. And to the next generation of girlies: well, shoot 'em dead, babes! xo