Easy Breezy...

Hello Darling Pumpkins!  The JSpot will be spotted this week on the white sand beaches of Marcho Island!  Yes, I'm going to enjoy a little get-a-way for some fun in the sun-barefoot nation, here I come.  My brother-in-law extraordinaire is celebrating his birthday and Lisa and I are ready to par-tay!

I'll see ya'll next week when I'll be layered in flannel and shivering my cookies off.  Happy Birthday, Steve-we will live it up-Marco style!   XO

Presence...

Happy Indigenous People's Day-as well as Columbus Day!

Growing up in Ossineke, Michigan-it was very common to have 'Indian' names for common places.  After all, Ossineke is an Ojibwa word meaning, 'place of the image stone.'  On the Devil's river, legend says there was a stone that the native's used as a marker to find their way home off of the water.  I have heard that the word has more modern meanings, but I like the old, home town legend.  At our elementary school, one of our ball fields was called 'Pukweegee' which means 'playground of little people.'  The sign marking the field said as much and used a little Indian native boy in the pic.  Probably not the most politically correct thing, but it was meant as an honor and not a slam.  The field on the other side was called 'Shingwak' which means 'playground in the pines.'

We had a roadside attraction called Hayden's Acres and upon entering, you would be greeted by a carved, life size, proud young brave on a horse in full head feathers.  Walking through the woods, various stations depicted all sorts of native life.  Supposedly, these carvings and displays were indicative of how life was lived, originally, on the Devil's River, in Ossineke.

My Grampa Cliff used to threaten us kids by saying he was going to give us back to the Indians.  "Some old squaw will strap you on her back and that'll fix ya!" Not the most P.C. either-that Gramps of mine!  And recently I learned that my (step) Great Grandma was a full blooded Indian.  My Grampa was raised by her, so maybe he knew what the deal was!

At any rate, I hope I haven't offended where I meant to convey pride.  I love my town's history and the fact that I, too, am an Indian-even if it's by proxy!

Have a wonderful fall week, my friends.  XO

Hit the Back...

I love art.  All art.  Anything that anyone created interests me, from amateur to 'pro'fessional works-they give me joy and wonder.  Mt. Clemens is full of art.  Street art in particular, from gorgeous murals to this amazing horse sculpture by Jonathon Bowling.  How our hood got graced by his talent is still unknown to me-even after research.  I know he is from Richmond and specializes in sculptural art.  If I understand correctly, one of his horses has made it to the Kentucky Derby.  I envy his incredible vision and talent.

How sweet is it to be able to drive down a street and be amazed at random works of art?  I'm in awe and I love it.  I've read he has done a mermaid, but I've yet to see it.  (Goals, Baybee!)

Thank you to Jonathon Bowling  for your generosity in sharing your totally cool work that brings a smile to my face.

Have a wonderful, fall week, my lovelies;  and stop and enjoy the art whenever possible!   XO

Swap it Out...

On Sunday four Detroit Lions fans, dressed in their colors and hauled their cookies down to support the Lions on their crazy winning streak.  It is our annual pilgrimage, but this year Kristin and I had an epiphany.  After the drive down in crazy traffic, the expensive parking, the overpriced cocktails, the crowd, the miles we walked, the deafening lack of acoustics and the overall length of the game, (four quarters!) that MAYBE this would be us chickies last game.

As our tradition deems,  Kristin and I lasted all the way thru the first quarter (can you believe there are FOUR?) before making our getaway.  Crowd aversions and the dull roar precipitate low grade anxiety attacks in each of us and a fresh vodka would probable ease the symptoms.  A full cardio workout ensued as we did the 'Rocky in Philly' staircase.  The bathroom lines were only slightly shorter than the drink line.  But we persevered and got both events handled and it was on to walking and shopping.  Finally, we found a table where we could people watch.

Together we made the executive decision.  Next year we would wear our cute outfits at brunch and then catch the game at home while enjoying the Ernst hot tub.  We can NOT-watch the game in comfort while imbibing on cocktails and snacks.  We will leave the logistical hassle to the guys and have dinner waiting when they arrive back.

The older I get, the more I like this idea as do my poor hips.

Wonder if fan gear has Lion's bikini's-for the hot tub section?  Stay tuned, Dolls and oh, wait...
Go Lions!

Hips Don't Lie...

About a month ago, I lamented to Kristin that my hips were "killin' me!"  I felt like an old Labrador with a bad case of dysplasia.  Mornings were the worst as I limped down for coffee.  It was very evident that I had totally overdid it in Zumba class while throwing my hips around.  Evidently, channeling my inner Shakira was NOT the best idea.

But...as the month wore on, the pain increased to an all day throb.  An X-ray later, I was diagnosed with (gasp!) arthritis.  Wait.  Isn't that a thing for 'old' people?  Well, okay...Some gray hair and some crow feet action I will own-but arthritis?  Well, hell.  Whaddya do with that?  I have no real family history and Doc says that I have simply worn them out.  Like too many miles on a leased vehicle, time is up for my poor hips.

This news is a wake up call as well as a check to my mortality.  Apparently, taking care of yourself with boxing, Zumba, sculpting and boot camp were aggravating a condition that childhood gymnastics had started.  Who knew?

So, I will hit up physical therapy, medicate, stretch and just be a little more gentle with myself.

But not shake my hips?  Oh, hell no.  I'll be up front, doin' the damn thing, sweating and smelling my new signature scent-Icy Hot and Pacific Vanilla.

Don't judge the old chick... XO

The Tide is High...

Last Friday was not only the thirteenth, but a full moon, actually a harvest moon-dates that mean different things to different people.  The occurrence of the date with the moon only happens about every twenty years.

A friend that works in a nursing home once told me that the patients are noticeably restless and sometimes irritable. Careful attention must be paid as there is a high incident of  'walk offs.'  (For the record, much of the time I am also restless and irritable, but that's another glass of wine..)

Up north, the wildlife also moves around more, possibly causing a higher number of car/deer accidents.  Once, my sister in law hit a deer on her way to work and then another on her way home!  Poor Paula and poor restless critters.

But the worst is the memory of a certain Friday the thirteenth back in 1980.  My parents got the call all parents dread-my brother had been in a serious car accident.  Steve and two friends were in his Pinto and collided with a train.  The boys swear that the RR crossing lights were not illuminated.  The train hit the drivers side while Steve was driving and dragged them down the tracks until the train could finally stop.   My brother was very beat up and had numerous broken bones.  The others suffered minor injuries.   A total freak accident that now is a local legend.  By the grace of God, we were all spared a Friday the thirteenth tragedy.  I hate train tracks to this day.

On Saturday we stopped at a winery that had two black 'house' cats.  The owner noted that the only bad luck that occurred was when someone accidently spilled a full glass of wine.

At the beachouse, we admired the beautiful harvest moon and the gorgeous illumination of the lake that it provided.  It was perfect and I'm happy to report that not a single glass of wine was spilled.

Have a lucky week, my lovelies!  XOXO

Cadillac Ranch...

For twenty years I saw her, sitting in a glass front garage.  All dressed up with nowhere to go, she sat alone like a child in time out.  What had happened that this little beauty that a 20 year punishment was appropriate?  I often wondered.

But I do know that I squealed in delight when I saw her outside, on the lawn, enjoying the pre-fall sunshine.  Wait, I shrieked, there's the pink caddy!  What was she doing making this star appearance and what could be her story?  Was she possibly the very first Mary Kay car that was awarded for sales of cosmetics?  Was she the inspiration for Aretha or maybe Bruce?  I don't know.

While visions of Tawny Kitaen in a Whitesnake video danced through my head, I chose a more jspot appropriate pose on the hood of the car.  Without the owner in sight, we snapped a few pics that gave her the paparazzi attention that she waited so long for.

And....if my begging pays off, you may see me cruisin' the Keys in pink style!!

Stay tuned!  XO