THE OPENING OF A PEONY

In the last week it seems as if everything is growing, budding, and flowering at an accelerated rate in my garden.

The first fragrant peony opened, as well as the comfrey, the pink’s, the salsify, and the parsley too. The roses, the geraniums, the abelia, the sweet william. And hey, it’s just the first week in May.

There is so much to do, what with planting time being until tomorrow, that I say the hell with senseless murders, politics and politicians; I am done with Fukishima news and the high levels of radiation that is and will continue to be in our food chain, forever. I am done with hearing anyone talk about their medical conditions: I just can’t take any more of that kind of stuff in when I have intense planting to do.

IT FEELS AND LOOKS LIKE SUMMER - OH MY!

I have to plant my zinnias, my lettuces, my basil, my zucchini, sunflowers, some bachelor buttons, or else.

I wasn’t planning on getting more than a couple of tomato plants, but somehow, 15 ended up in our dirt!  Cherokee Purple, Yellow Pear, Hillbilly, Rutgers, Black Krim, and Mr. Stripey. I have a feeling I am going to be learning how to do some canning soon.

WHAT THE PEONY IS LOOKING AT

Click on this line to see a very interesting post I read on how to get the most flavor and fruit out of the beloved tomato plant in your garden; or, How to Grow Perfect Tomatoes.

RED ORIENTAL POPPIES

And whether you like or hate Obama, below is a clip of a recent dinner event that made me laugh. Many of my friends who are in the know with these kinds of things, had only just heard about it.
Take a moment to see another side of Obama that made me laugh. And that is something that I always have time for.

Wishing you Well,

Sadhvi

JANE

At 5, which is the first age where I can remember the feeling, I worried that I would never see my favorite red-and-white cardboard bricks again, since my parents had “loaned” them to my cousins as we were leaving for a four-year Army tour in Germany.

At 10, in addition to worrying that our house might burn down, I lost sleep thinking that if Santa Claus wasn’t real, then what other lies might my parents have told me?  And, since Tony Ludholz had stuck a ring with a blue stone in my hand and said “now we’re engaged,”  did that mean I really had to marry him?

At 15, I spent a lot of time worrying about that horrible guy who killed the nurses or those two men who killed the family in Kansas ’in cold blood’.  I worried that the first men on the moon might not make it back home safely–and that every single person who had a chance of saving the world would get assassinated.  I also worried a lot about nuclear bombs, when I wasn’t worrying that Michael Krick would not ask me to dance at the end-of-the-year dance.

OH NO!

At 20, I worried that I would never, ever finish all the work I had to get through to graduate from college, that we would never get out of VietNam, that even if I graduated, I would never get a job because all I knew how to do was go to school and pass my classes, and that I would never, ever fall in love because men were all sexist pigs–and that I would never be able to tolerate my father ever again because he sat and read the paper while my mother fixed dinner–and because he thought “Ms” was an unnecessary addition to the English language!

At 30, I worried that my new marriage would end in disaster, that childbirth would hurt worse than anyone had said it would–and I would die in the process–and that nuclear war would happen right at the point where I had discovered I could love someone.

At 35, I worried our baby girl would grow up in a world full of pollution, nuclear bombs and global warming–and would blame us.  I also worried that she would die of SIDS, be kidnapped, get injured, have a life-threatening illness, or choke on bacon.

WORRY DOLLS

At 40, I worried we would never get out of Iraq, that my son would end up being drafted, that my children and my parents would die at any minute, that nuclear war would destroy us all, that Bush would always be president.

At 45, I worried that I had not read to my youngest child enough (or ever taught her to floss), that my parents would die, that I would die of heart failure caused by obesity, that my son would end up a crack addict, in jail, or a paraplegic from a skateboarding accident, that, despite all the changes of the ’70′s, my daughters would live in a world of sexist pigs and their souls would be trampled.

At 50, I started worrying about growing old before I could ever finish a single good poem, that our troops would never get out of anywhere, that  my parents would die before my kids were old enough to remember them, that September 11th was just the beginning of a horrible end to whatever was left of the American dream, that there might not be a God, and that my children might hate me forever, since I was making daily mistakes with their teenage psyches.

At 55, I worried that my children were growing so fast that I couldn’t even take a breath before they’d be grown.  I worried that my brain would stop working before I could finish anything, that my daughter/son/daughter would hate college, be unhappy away from home, get hurt without me there to fight off boogeymen, not want to come home because they took a Sociology class that made them realize all of their parents’ inadequacies.  That I might be turning into my mother!

THE ICE CAPS ARE MELTING!

Looking back over this list, I realize that 1) some of these things came true, and, although they were bad, they were not as bad as I had feared–some of them were worse  2) there was nothing I could do about it, no matter what.

I wish I could say that now, at 58, I’ve stopped worrying.  But I can’t.  I think I might be addicted to worry because of the elusive sense of control it gives me.  If I can make sure I worry about something, maybe I can stave that thing off for a few more seconds, keep that wolf away from the door.  After all, bad things always happen when you least expect them.

I do know one thing:  after all these years, I have at least learned to take some of my worries with a grain of salt–like , for instance, the one about the ice caps melting and carrying away our house.  I have a few years before that could happen, right?

My husband never seems to remember what I have said to him.  For instance, if I tell him I want him to take the garbage out, he nods his head and smiles at me, as if he knows what I’m saying and is going to jump right up and do my bidding.  But then, hours go by and the garbage is still sitting there, lonely.  How do I know if he is hard of hearing or has Alzheimer’s?

Ignored in Ithaca

Dear Ignored,

If  he doesn’t remember you telling him that dinner is on the table, he may need to get his ears checked.  If he wanders around the neighborhood in his boxer shorts, it’s Alzheimer’s.  If  he hears you when you tell him the game is starting on t.v. but doesn’t hear you when you ask him to unstop the toilet, he’s a man who has been married more than five years.

Dear Johanna,

Lately I am eating all the time.  I pig out at meals.  I sneak out for ice cream in the afternoon at work.  And, worst of all, I suddenly find myself standing in front of the refrigerator in the middle of the night, a bagel with cream cheese in one hand and Oreos in the other!  My husband is starting to say that I am  a food addict.  What do I do?

Fat in Florida

Dear Fat,

You go to your doctor right away and tell him/her you are not sleeping well and need Ambien.  Then you tell your husband you’ve been taking Ambien for the past few months, and apparently it has caused you to exhibit strange behaviors around food.  Works like a charm! 

Dear Johanna,

I am afraid I no longer love my husband, but I’m too tired to make any changes in my life.  I already have a separate bedroom.  I’ve told him we can’t communicate, so there is no use even trying to talk any more.  The other day, he fell down, and I kicked him–and felt no guilt.  Is this normal at my age?  I’m 65.

Anxious in Anchorage

Dear Anxious,

Your reactions may be a little extreme, but I get where you’re coming from.  I hear that in some cultures, once women are past childbearing age, they all live together happily–and boot the husbands out.  I don’t think that idea would fly in America, but I hear you, sister!  But no more kicking!  Just make him a “man cave” where he can go watch TV and drink beer while you hang out with girlfriends.  You’re much less likely to end up in jail!

Johanna

NANCY

I miss Andy Rooney, and, in tribute to him, I am going to air one of my pet peeves.  I’ve gotten so I read through the obituaries, partly for that feeling of having won a little lottery when I don’t see anyone’s name I know (so at this point, I still win a lot) and partly to read about strangers’ lives and marvel at the detail in some of them.  I have to admit that I also look to see mentions of a beloved pet left behind.  I do that with wedding announcements, too, and feel instantly connected when I see a pet in the picture with the happy couple.  I guess I should disclose that my dog “Pasha Bird” shared space with me in my college yearbook.

But, back to obituaries!  Often I see a picture of a young person staring out at me, and I gasp to myself, thinking, “how sad,” but then, when reading on, I discover the person is actually way past 60.  It happened just today in the Chapel Hill News.

Are we trying to say we are now forever young?  I don’t get it.  There was a flapper not long ago in the Raleigh paper, hair flattened down with tight curls, in a roaring twenties dress.  So, of course she was in her nineties.  Would any of our current acquaintances recognize us if we put our high school picture in our announcement?  Is it the families that do this?  Or do we, upon reaching a certain age, pick out our best shot from fifty years ago and designate it as our ‘parting’ shot?

I can see that some people may just not have a more current picture, but in this digital day and age, I would think they would be in the minority.

So, for heaven’s sake, anybody who doesn’t have a recent picture, please ask your grand kids to snap one of you, so we won’t have to move you through all three focal levels in our glasses to figure out even that we knew you!

Now I’m going to look up Andy’s obit to see what his picture was like.  Here it is:

ANDY ROONEY'S OBITUARY PHOTO

Annice

This is one of my favorite recipe’s from my dear friend Va at Sheville.org.  I tried to make this Tequila Christmas Cake recipe for Chanukah again this year, but it didn’t work out so well.  So, I’m trying again for New Year’s Day.  Here goes:

 Ingredients 

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Sample the tequila to check quality.  Take a large bowl; check the tequila again to be  sure it is of the highest quality.  Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer.

Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.  Add 1 teaspoon of sugar.  Beat again.  At this point, it is best to make sure the tequila is still OK.  Try another cup just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy.  Break 2 eegs and add to the bowl and chuck iin the cup of dried fruit. Pick the fruit up off the floor.  Mix on the turner.  If the fried druit getas stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the tequila to test for tonsisticity.  Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or something.  Check the tequila. Now shift the lemon ice strain your nuts.  Add one table.  Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

Greash the oven.  Turn the cake tin 360s and try not to fall over.  Don’t forget to beat off the turner.  Finally, throw the bowl through the window.  Finish the tequila and wipe the counter with the cat.

Too Much Tequila

Pahhpy New Gears!

Annice

Oops.  I did a really stupid thing.  I was driving around doing errands on Saturday when I looked into the rear view mirror and saw how ghastly my hair looked.  I was in the middle of a hair emergency without an appointment.  I haven’t been happy with my stylist lately, and in fact I’ve been shopping around.  I’m tired of paying a lot, and not being satisfied.  All that to say, I ended up driving to the nearest cheap hair salon I spotted on the highway, and walked in.

After all, aren’t all the stylists in those kind of places recent grads who know the latest techniques?  Aren’t they just working at these cheap places to get experience, build up a clientele, and move on?

I walked in.  “Hi, can someone cut my hair now?”

Behind the desk, the receptionist, sporting a great haircut, looked up.

“Sure.  Give me your coat and take a seat.  I’ll get Terry (not her real name).”

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Sitting in Terry’s chair, I looked around.  The place was dumpy, looking like the low-end salon it was.

Out walks Terry smelling badly from cigarette smoke.  Her face was covered with deep wrinkles and when she smiled, she was missing a few teeth.  I won’t bother to detail the many different colors of her hair ranging from burnt orange to caramel.

OMG.  I had a sick feeling in my stomach as I sat in Terry’s chair, a prisoner, held hostage by my own stupidity.  It was too late to turn back.

I tried to imagine the best case scenario.  Maybe she was a recovering addict from NYC and came to the mountains to get her life back together.  She wouldn’t be the first.  Or maybe she was a super stylist from NYC.  Anything was possible.

“Is that a natural curl?” she asked.

“Yes, and I happen to have a photo of the cut I like in my wallet.”  I handed the photo to Terry.

She looked at it for a second.

“No problem.  I’m great with curly hair, been cutting hair in Asheville since 1994.  Raised four kids as a single mom cutting hair.”

“Ever been to New York?”  I could only hope.

“Never been out of Asheville.  Never had the desire.”

“Never.  Not even for a visit?”

MY NEW HAIRCUT

“Nope.  I’m gonna  cut your hair dry.  It’s the best way to cut curly hair.”

I knew that was a fair statement and such technique existed, so I did not argue with Terry.

Chop, chop, chop.  Terry cut away until I was left with a short pixie.

“What do you think?  I think that looks about right.”  Terry picked up the photo and held it up to the mirror next to my image. “What about color?  We use a very good color here.”

I could not speak.

“Would you like to schedule your next appointment?”

“Next appointment?  Oh, well, I won’t be needing a next appointment until April – 2013.”

Jane

This joke was sent to me by Betsy, one of our contributors, and I just had to share it.  Apologies to all of you who have already heard it!!! 

(as told by a woman)

I had lunch with 2 of my unmarried friends. One is engaged, one is a mistress, and I have been married for 20+ years.

We were chatting about our relationships and decided to amaze our men by greeting them at the door wearing a black bra, stiletto heels and a mask over our eyes. We agreed to meet in a few days to exchange notes.

Here’s how it all went.

My engaged friend:
The other night when my boyfriend came over he found me with a black leather bodice, tall stilettos and a mask. He saw me and said, “You are the woman of my dreams. I love you.”

Then we made passionate love all night long.

The mistress:
Me too! The other night I met my lover at his office and I was wearing a raincoat, under it only the black bra, heels and a mask over my eyes.

When I opened the raincoat he didn’t say a word, but he started to tremble and we had wild sex all night.

Then I had to share my story:
When my husband came home I was wearing the black bra, black stockings, stilettos and a mask over my eyes.

When he came in the door and saw me he said,

(You’ll love this)

“What’s for dinner, Zorro?”

 Here are 10 things I’m thankful for this year:

1)  We have wonderful friends who make us feel thankful to be alive and sharing this planet with them.

2)  Our daughter Becky in Africa is feeling better, so maybe she doesn’t actually have dengue fever or some other horrible tropical disease (what I immediately assumed upon hearing that she had a fever and muscle pains). And our daughter Josie does not have a stress fracture on her leg—just shin splints!  Yaay!  And she’s going with me to see Becky soon.

3)  Our daughter Lizzie has Janson in her life—a thoughtful, loving guy—and Janson may even have a job soon, thanks to some great folks who read about him in the paper and decided they wanted to go out of their way to help a Marine veteran!

4)  Our son, Parker, is very happy at Bard College—and, even though he won’t be home for Thanksgiving, he gets to have turkey dinner with Janet and Jerry, our wonderful friends in New York.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING FROM OOPS50!!!!

5)  I have three powerful and loving sisters (and a host of wonderful blood kin) and terrific, loving in-laws (how lucky is that?).

6)  Tom can still, after 28 years (is that possible?), make me laugh so hard that I risk embarrassing him in public (but I never really do).

7)  Obama is still in the White House.

  Even though I’ve gained some pounds and need to get rid of them, I’ve managed to keep off most of my weight loss.

9)  Our dog Tater loves to chase a laser around our floor—over and over again—without ever getting bored or tired.

10)  Ultimate Ice Cream (in Asheville, NC), especially the Coffee Heath Bar (perhaps this last one should be avoided). 

JULIA

My thoughts on learning that I am going to be a Grandmother are as follows:

Okay, so I had more than 10 thoughts in a row.  This doesn’t happen every day.  I just had to write them all!

Julia Coward lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, in a house made entirely of dog hair.  She has held many varied and interesting  jobs in her career as a person, but her favorite has always been raising and caring for people and pets in all different ages and stages of life.  Plants have to fend for themselves.

While on the operating table she had a near-death experience.

Seeing God she asked, “Is my time up?”

God answered, “No, you have another 40 years, 2 months, and 8 days to live.”

Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have a face-lift, liposuction, and a tummy tuck.

She even had someone come in and change her hair color.

Since she had so much more time to live, she thought she might as well make the most of it.

After her last operation, she was released from the hospital.

While crossing the street on her way home, she was hit by a car and died immediately.

Arriving in front of God, she demanded, “I thought you said I had another 40 years – why didn’t you pull me from out of the path of the car?”

God replied, “I didn’t recognize you.”

WHITE BEACH MORNING GLORY

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Every autumn, it’s the same thing: it takes me a while to get used to the idea that all the leaves will fall from the trees, it’s going to get cold, and winter is coming.

I have never lived in a place where there were NOT four seasons, so why does it come as a shock each and every year?

Maybe it’s simply because I don’t like to be cold!

Here’s a joke that I find funny ever time I read it:

On a small iceberg, somewhere near the North Pole, a little bear goes up to his mother and asks, “Mom, what kind of bear am I?”

“You are a polar bear, son,” replies his mother.

“Are you sure I am not a brown bear?” he asks.

.

“Quite sure, son,” she replies, “you are a polar bear.”

But the little bear is not satisfied. “Mom,” he says, “maybe I am a grizzly bear?”

“What are you asking these questions for, son?” asks his mother. “You are a polar bear.”

So the little bear walks across the iceberg to his father.

“Pop,” he says, “am I a panda bear?”

“No, son,” says the father, “you are a polar bear.”

“Not a koala bear?” asks the baby bear.

“No, you are a polar bear,” says his father. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Because,” moans the little bear, “I’m cold!”

So postponing the inevitable is why I like to have as many Zinnia’s around me as possible.  They seem to continue to bloom and flower until the first hard frost, which around here can be in November.  They require nothing more than putting some seed in the ground once the Spring frosts are behind, and then continue to sow some in little corners until mid-Summer.  Oh, and deadhead when needed, saving the spent flowers to use for next year’s blooms.

Remembering to do this is not hard, once you’ve experienced the joy of their colorful blooms.

Wishing you Well,

Sadhvi

Zinnias from a few days ago!

JANE

1) I feel old.  My hair is gray, and there are wrinkles around my eyes and mouth.

2) I will never be a child prodigy on the guitar.

3) The white hairs on my chin might scare young children.

4) I will never win an Olympic gold medal in Volleyball, unless it’s a special competition or old farts.

5) My husband is looking a little older, too.

6) I need more sleep than I used to.

7) I can’t remember anything, especially not anything that happened recently.

People in the South say “Yes, Ma’am to me” and sometimes give me that “what a cute  little lady” look.

9) My parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents—all the people who inhabited my childhood world, and even ruled over it—are gone.  I will never see them again, and my children don’t even remember most of them.

10) My hands are starting to look like my mother’s hands.

PRO’S:

1) I am a much better judge of character than I was in my twenties and thirties.

2) My husband still looks younger than most people his age.  In fact, strangers think he’s my younger brother.

3) So what if I can’t remember anything?!  Unlike members of the younger generations, my life is preserved in diaries, postcards, letters, love letters, even telegrams—not an e-mail or text message in the bunch—and photo albums with actual pictures on paper (although there is a definite shortage of these starting with the year we purchased our first digital camera).

4) My children are no longer teenagers, at least 3 out of 4.  They are also full-grown (or close enough) and capable of surviving without their parents.

5) I know what I like/don’t like, who I am/am not, who I don’t ever want to be.  I’m past agonizing over my identity or beliefs.  My needs are simple: good people, good food, good laughs–and good sleep.

6) I have the courage to speak my mind out loud (that one took longer than some of the others), and I have great friends  (and 3 great sisters) who seem to value that.

7) I do not ever have to Tweet on Twitter, if I don’t want to—and I don’t want to.

8) I’m past being embarrassed about much.  (Old Fart volleyball tryouts, here I come!)

9) I know that life is too short to waste on any of the following:  t.v. ads, committee meetings, red lights after 12 midnight, liver, and cleaning my house more than absolutely necessary to prevent the spread of disease.

10) I always wanted to have hands like my mother’s, where you can see the veins.  To me, they looked like the picture of love and nurturing and hard work.

12)  I actually like my gray hair and laugh lines—it took hard work to earn them both.

13) I never wanted to be a child prodigy anyway.  It was too much fun playing “Kick the Can” or “Sardines” all summer.

Turns out the Pro’s outnumber the Con’s!  Who knew?!!!

MAXINE'S JOHN WAGNER

Maxine can still crack me up.  Like her, there was always someone around in the family who called a spade a spade.  In the “politically correct” times we’ve been living in, and now, where EVERYTHING IS AWESOME, I can appreciate Maxine’s character even more.  Because most of the people who used to be like her are gone.  And I know I should watch Jon Stewart, but I don’t have a TV.

The other day while at the market, I saw a young girl, maybe 11 or 12 years old, hugging a colorful book to her chest.  I asked her if I could see the title of the book.  It was, The Book of Awesome.  Her mother was behind her, and I asked what the book was about?  She said that every kid is reading it, and her daughter just loves it.  Nothing wrong with love, but this book even has its own Wikipedia page.  Now how weird is that?  What a peculiar thing, that there is a book written for people to read, about things like:

Snow Days, Bakery Air, Finding Money in Your Pocket and Other Simple, Brilliant Things

I wonder what Maxine is gonna have to say about it?

Hey, I might actually read this New York Times bestseller and start to wear a t-shirt with the cover on the front, and start carrying the book around, hugging it!

So who is the person behind Maxine’s character?  The following is taken from the Hallmark website:

John Wagner, Hallmark artist since 1970, says Maxine was inspired by his mother, his maiden aunts and his grandmother, the woman who bought him art lessons when “fill in the pumpkins” was about the extent of his art classes at St. John ‘s Catholic School in Leonia, New Jersey.

When Hallmark launched the Shoebox card line back in 1986, nobody knew that the crabby character gracing the covers of a few cards would become a celebrity.  It didn’t take long for Maxine’s irreverent quips about aging, the workplace, retirement, political correctness, and of course sex (or the lack of it) had struck a cord.

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“If Maxine can get a laugh out of someone who feels lonely or someone who is getting older and hates the thought of another birthday, or if she can make someone chuckle about stressful interpersonal relationships, then I’m happy.  Putting a smile on someone’s face is what it’s all about.”

Why the name ‘Maxine’?

“People at Shoebox started referring to the character as “John Wagner’s old lady”, and I knew that would get me into trouble with my wife,” John says.  So the Shoebox team had a contest among themselves to name the character and three of the approximately 30 entries suggested “Maxine”.   John says the name is perfect.  He’s also humbled by such acceptance of Maxine, and admits he’s proud of her.

So now you know!

Enjoy,

Sadhvi

SADHVI

It’s almost Fall – again.  I find myself going through the pantry, going through my closets, taking stock of things.

I am also making decisions on what I am willing to put up with for the sake of “keeping up” with the seemingly never-ending, new (and expensive) ways to be in touch and connected.

Yes, menopause is the reason, and yes, it is the only thing I can think about right in this moment that I like about it.  Having weird hormones in funny places makes it easy to weed things out that don’t make sense in my life.

If Facebook, and texting, and tweeting, and Linkedin, and Google+, and Pinterest, and of course, emailing and phones weren’t enough wonderful ways to “keep in touch” these days, I personally don’t think any more will help.

It’s kind of interesting, the range and extremes of what people are doing these days with all these ways of connecting.

For instance, I meet people who can’t imagine living without their computer.  Really.  And from the sound of their voice, I believe them.  I had several conversations with friends who ask me, how can I not text?  To which I answer, how can you possibly?  I don’t have kids, so that seems to be the major deciding factor.  I asked one Mom recently why she texted?  And she told me that it’s the only way to communicate with them.  Hmm.

LATE SUMMER MORNING DRIVE VIEW

On the other hand, I hear friends say things like, “I can’t do Facebook any more – it just sucks too much of my time”.  Or, “I can’t do Linkedin, it’s too much.”  I even have a few friends who have taken a big step and just deleted all their “InBox” and “Sent” messages in their main email account (the other ones they don’t even check!)!  Wow.  I often imagine doing that, but I just can’t.  I asked how it felt when they did that, and they said it felt really, really good.  Hmm.  Some of my younger friends don’t even have a cell phone.  They tell me they can’t afford one.  Double hmm.

There seems to be all levels and extremes in this new world regime where technology rules all of us in some way or another.

I am not into “keeping up” with it all any more.  I returned my “awesome” iPhone a few weeks ago and feel less irritated in general because I can actually HEAR what others are saying on my simple LG phone.  It’s not a smart phone, and believe me, it doesn’t have to be!  I feel like I was smart in giving it back though.  I already have to go through almost 200 emails every day so why would I want to have them downloaded on my phone?

When I asked my Mac friend if he really, really, likes his iPhone, as a PHONE, and he said, “Well, no, it’s so much more than a phone.”  I repeated the question, and he said, “Well, no, there are lots of better phones out there.”  Geez!

I am not against technology.  I use it.  I need a computer for work.  I enjoy flittering in and out of FaceBook.  I like YouTube.  I just don’t want to add anything more!

I wonder how many of us are getting tired of all this technology that seems to be more troublesome and time-consuming than it’s worth?

SUSUN WEED

I create space and balance by being in the garden, and taking walks with my dog.  Or baking.  Or writing letters.  So as long as I can keep the balance, all is well.

Here’s a clip below that I saw recently from Susun Weed, on how to make an easy vinegar to help us with Fall allergies, using Goldenrod.  I didn’t know that Goldenrod was such a powerful herb.  I just thought it was beautiful to look at. My Goldenrod is just starting to open, and I will make some.

Well that’s it from me this week.

Happy Fall!

SADHVI

It’s been an intense time on the planet this past week.  Mercury is still retrograde, but will finally be going direct tomorrow.  Then there was an earthquake that was pretty severe on the east coast.  Whoa!  While we’re being told it’s not unusual, being from the east coast, I can say that it is.  And while I’m thinking about it, does anyone see any cause and effect with the incredible amount of high-powered blasting through the shale in the ground, otherwise known as fracking, to get to all that natural gas under the shale, in order to create a huge pipeline through some of the poorest areas of America, and this earthquake?

OH MORNING GLORY!

If you’ve clicked on the link to the word “earthquake” above, you will see an ad from Exxon-Mobil before the CNN clip, on the “safety” of fracking.  I know I felt better after watching some executive from that company tell me in a soft and smooth voice that it’s all done very safely.  I mean, how could blasting through shale with high-pressure, chemical-filled water (that is being taken from – where?) do anything to the earth.  I wonder if maybe Mother Nature is getting back.

Now there’s this huge, and in the words of  President Obama, “historical” hurricane Irene, that looks really scary that is about to hit the eastern coast.  I know, I know, we’re not supposed to talk about stuff like that…sorry!  It’s just kind of intense looking!

But it was also wonderfully thrilling to eat the first of the second batch of raspberries from my garden this week,  and the many very ripe figs off our tree (thank you Judi for your tip on how to increase the yield last fall – it worked!), to smell the intoxicating fragrance of the kudzu flowers, and roses still blooming.  And it’s always very good to spend time with our 11 hens, all named after my mom, Sally.

KUDZU FLOWER

HERITAGE RASPBERRY'S

INSIDE MY FIG TREE

And a good laugh is always welcome, so here’s a joke that I had never heard before, that cracked me up.

Enjoy!

Sadhvi

An old, blind cowboy wanders into an all-girl biker bar by mistake.  He finds his way to a bar stool and orders a shot of Jack Daniels.  After sitting there for a while, he yells to the bartender, “Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?” 

The immediate silence in the entire bar is almost tangible.  In a deep voice, the woman next to him says, “Before you tell that joke, Cowboy, I think it’s only fair, given that you are blind, that you should know a few things:

1.  The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat.

2.  The bouncer is a blonde woman.

3.  I am 6 feet tall, weigh 195 pounds, and have a black belt in karate, and am a natural blonde.

4.  The woman sitting next to me is  blonde and is a professional weight lifter.  And lastly, the lady to your right is also blonde and a well-known professional wrestler.  Now, think about it for a moment, Cowboy, do you really want to tell that blonde joke?”

The blind cowboy thinks for a few seconds, shakes his head, and mutters, “No, not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.”

SALLY HENS

SADHVI

I got a new iPhone last week so that when I am at our stand at the Market, I can take credit cards with the Square.  I spent a long time trying to figure out the best deal from the many companies, and frankly, it was harder than my first year of college!  So when a friend said I should Google Square I did and was so happy that someone (one of the founders of Twitter) came up with this easy method that lets you take any credit or debit card with a smart phone.  And the best part is that there’s no monthly fee or service contract.  Another added perk is that customers think you are cool if you offer this, don’t ask me why!  Kind of like if you’re the first kid to have the newest-toy-on-the-block sort of thing.  It couldn’t be easier to use, and the money goes straight into your bank account.  Perfect for massage therapists, artist’s, and small business owners.  And it works with the Droid and the iPad too.  Really, it’s great.

iPhone4

But getting an iPhone has made me cross the line from where I set my boundaries in my own personal comfort zone of technology.  I mean, I don’t text because I find it kind of weird to type on something so small, and, I don’t have kids, which I hear is the only way to communicate with them these days.  I don’t like to play games.  I don’t really get lost, and if I do, I like to look at a map or even ask people for directions (I get a secret thrill out of talking to a complete stranger of the same species as me!).  I don’t need to identify a song I like on the radio, I can just enjoy it as something new, and I will leave it to chance when I am on the road and am looking for a good place to eat.  If it’s not good, I know it will be an interesting memory, or something soon forgotten.

So imagine becoming immediately addicted to something that I am a bit embarrassed to write about: and that is, checking my incoming email while driving!  Can you believe it?  It was as if some part of my brain took over and told me: ‘It’s OK…you’re just cleaning up any junk mail and looking for the important ones!”  The bad part is that I wasn’t just doing it just at red lights.  After catching myself doing it during a long stretch of the ride home, I vowed not to touch that iCrackThing while driving ever again.  I don’t know what happened, but it was scary!  No wonder Apple is now worth more than the oil companies!

My 10-year-old niece came to visit, and while driving together in the car to the horse ranch that she would be staying at with her Dad in the car ahead, the beautiful mountain views were truly something to behold.  She sat next to me playing a game on her new iPhone4.  “I love it!”, she says.  I told her she can love it, but not while driving on vacation with her Aunt Sadhvi.  I wanted her to find enjoyment in the ride and the journey and the wonderful views.  She reluctantly put her beloved iPhone away.

Just to let you know, I also write her letters in cursive writing, on cute stationary and send them in the mail with stamps that I pick out, not the ugly Forever Stamps.  I’ve heard they don’t teach cursive writing in schools any more, and I think that’s kind a real shame.  That’s when I started to send her letters.  So maybe my niece will be able to land a job someday because she knows how to read cursive?!  No, I’m just kidding.  I really just want to make sure she has some “human connection memories” instead of computer games that she’s become addicted to on her awesome iPhone.

Or just maybe all this tuning out and tuning into a hand-held computer that is so cute, sleek and even loveable is just a way to tune out the hectic energy of the world?

Enjoy!

Sadhvi

“Be careful not to fill up every moment of your life with “stuff”: things to think about, to react against, to worry about, be upset about, regret or even look forward to… There’s more to life.  You don’t have to stop doing, but you can intersperse your life with brief moments of presence.  Like now… allow everything to be as it is.  Then become aware that there is an awareness here, a consciousness, & that THAT is more truly who you are than anything else.”

EckhartTolle

PRIYA'S MORNING GLORY

Jane

I’ve been worrying too much lately.  It’s not good for me.  I do most of it at night, when the lights are out, and I wake up at 3 am, unable to sleep.  My worries run the gamut, but they always start with my 4 children: from my daughter in Africa (Will she catch some horrible disease from an errant mosquito?) to my son on a farm in New York (Will he survive another 105 degree day of digging up garlic plants?) to my other daughter at a blue grass concert in Connecticut (Will she be caught in a stampeding crowd of drunken concert-goers?) to my daughter here, safe under my roof (Will she be able to handle this upcoming year in high school,  with her 3 sports teams and band and outside-of-school activities?) to my job (Will I get everything done that is sitting on my desk?) to our finances (Never mind) to my health (Will I keep gaining weight or become an obese elderly woman that people pity and scorn?) to politics (Will Obama survive this nightmare? Will our economy? Will the world?) to religion (Is there a God out there listening?) back to my children (Why didn’t I brush their teeth more often?  Damn those stupid fruit roll-ups that I thought were healthy!  We won’t be able to afford the next 8 years of college!  Do they have what they need to make it in the world after college? which leasds to:  Did I give them any kind of spiritual basis to help them deal with their futures?)  You get my drift.  This is where things tend to go rapidly down hill into complete negativity.  I’m sure I don’t need to put examples here.  I’m sure most women over 50 know the kind of negative thinking you can do at 3 a.m., given a little energy and inclination!

OMG!

I’ve heard from a very reputable source that you can create negative channels of thinking in your brain if you keep thinking the same negative thoughts—that you actually wear paths so that your negative thoughts become the easy trail through the woods that has the most markers!  They say that your job is to stop those negative thoughts by wearing new paths.

I’m working on it.  I’m trying to make myself say positive things to myself whenever I can: “The kids are healthy, and they have great teeth that they inherited from their grandmother!” or  “It doesn’t matter that your house is a pigpen!  You’re  too busy getting your priorities straight to clean that back room!” or  “You have willpower of iron!  You are getting thinner every day!” or “The world is not falling into a heap of total and complete ruin, no matter how much the signs point to that scenario!”

As I said, I’m working on it.  But it’s hard.

I’m not sure I’m capable of wiping out all negative thoughts.  I can do it during the day.  Just not at 3 a.m.

I do know one thing that helps: laughter.  When I can laugh with my husband about something silly in the paper in the morning or guffaw over coffee with friends or die laughing with my daughters over a ridiculous movie like “Bridesmaids,” I feel better–and it carries forward into nighttime!  When I go to bed after laughing a lot during the day, the wheels in my brain start turning in different directions—and, next thing you know, I wake up thinking about how great our kids are, or how incredibly lucky I am to have wonderful girlfriends in my life, even if I only see them once a week or once a month or once in a blue moon, or how terrific it is to be surviving this Recession with my husband, with our marriage intact—or how wonderful a scoop of Ultimate Ice Cream’s coffee heath bar tastes!

I have to watch out for that last one though:  it can easily lead me back into one of those negative trails—the one full of worry about being a morbidly obese elder in a wheelchair!

SADHVI

Ok, for the last couple of days, Mercury has been retrograde.  Personally speaking, if it gets any more intense in the heavens, I might have to join the “Baptists who Believe and Want Rapture to Happen Yesterday” (BBWRHY) church down the street.  A friend recently told me about a quote he read…something about “Nothing can be done.  And, nothing matters.”  I think it was from Osho.  I like it.  And I find myself repeating it to myself throughout the day.  You might want to do the same…just find something you like and resonate with.

Here are some suggestions to get you thinking:

“Don’t Worry, be Happy.”

“Everything is OK unless you think about it.”

“Through Chaos Stars are Born”

You get the idea, right?

What does mercury retro mean to you and me?  Well, here is what my favorite astrologers at StarIQ have to say about it:

“Mercury, the planet of communication, short trips and details, appears to stop dead in its tracks on August 2 at 1 degree of Virgo. The planet then turns backwards in its apparent path through the zodiac. It stops again on August 26, then turns to resume its direct motion at 18 degrees of Leo.

Mercury turns retrograde three times a year, spending a bit more than three weeks in “reverse” gear each time. The retrograde cycle is due to the fact that we are viewing the planets from a moving platform, the Earth. The planets, in fact, do not actually change direction, but appear to do so from our perspective. This geocentric, or earth-centered, point of view is the basis for astrological measurements. In a sense, what you see is what you get.

What Does It Mean?

A retrograde planet is generally considered more introverted than when it’s in the normal direct motion mode. Astrologers have traditionally considered Mercury retrograde to be a time of difficulty in Mercury related endeavors like communication, travel and matters of detail. Some counsel the avoidance of launching new projects or signing contracts at this time. Glitches are considered more commonplace now, as are misunderstood or poorly delivered messages.

There are, fortunately, more optimistic views of what Mercury retrograde means. Rather than hunkering down in your bunker, this is a positive time to tie up loose ends, reconnect with people from the past, make mechanical repairs and get systems in order. This can also be a productive period for psychological review as new information can be gleaned from old experiences.

How Long Does It Last?

Mercury, the planet of communication, short trips and details, appears to stop dead in its tracks on August 2 at 1 degree of Virgo. The planet then turns backwards in its apparent path through the zodiac. It stops again on August 26, then turns to resume its direct motion at 18 degrees of Leo.

I hope you are enjoying what is,

Sadhvi

SADHVI

I wanted to share my secret to eternal youth this week, but I couldn’t think of one.  Then I thought I could let you in on how at the age of 53, I’ve invested wisely and am now retired, except that this is not the case.

So instead I’m going to share something that I think is pretty interesting.  I was looking at the data collected from GoogleAnalytics, a free service from Google that shows which key words people are punching into their search boxes, and how many of them there are.  What I discovered is that the majority of people using the web are trying to find their perfect mate!  Uh oh, wait!  I think that also includes porn sites.  Geez.  I shouldn’t be surprised, since just about all of my single friends use online dating these days.  I even have friends who tell me, “I’ve got to find time to get on Match.com!”.

If only they realized that their type of “Mr. Right” is not anywhere but between the pages of a book.  Because having been in a relationship for over 25 years with the same partner, I can attest that it ain’t like what these single friends are yearning for.  It is not necessarily bad, it just isn’t romance every day!

MR. RIGHT THERE ALL ALONG

If I were looking, I definitely wouldn’t look for a potential relationship online!  They pick the picture themselves and they write things that make them appear like they are auctioning themselves off on the block!

If I were looking for love, I would join a tango class, or a bowling league, or maybe just go the library and get some Harlequin romance novels and drift away in a comfortable chair.  Or just order online at my favorite book site: Better World Books.  A much better company than Amazon to support, by the way.

Here’s a quote from a summer read that I recently picked up (no pun intended).  Let me know if you agree with me that reading about romance might be better than an actual relationship.  It’s cheaper. There is no compromise.  When your heart gets broken, vicariously of course, it will be better by the end of the book.

Enjoy!

Sadhvi

OH MORNING GLORY!

My husband’s iPhone flashed an alert last night while we were sitting on the front porch, cooling off from a hot work day, drinking a beer.  Some sort of App that he has that sends reports when they come in, no doubt.  That alert said that a chunk of the sun had spewed out into space, and that some of it was going to be hitting the earth and cause possible electromagnetic disturbances.  Maybe today.  And nothing more about when, where, or what that will mean.  I don’t have an iPhone, and I don’t watch Fox news or any TV, so I wouldn’t have known.  Hmmm, maybe it IS better to not know about everything, cuz I was wondering about that all day.

Even if I don’t want to know about “THE BIZARRE INTENSE NEWS OF THE MOMENT”, I keep hearing about it.  There’s something or someone telling you the latest thing that JUST happened, or is about to happen, that is kind of mind blowing.  I mean, really, an electromagnetic storm?  What does that mean???

So when I  stumble upon things that I find quite amazing, to keep the balance, I like to share them.

This week’s “finding the balance” share is Eric Whitacre‘s most amazing project with a virtual choir.

So do yourself a favor: click below and bliss out,

xxx

Sadhvi

SADHVI

I think that because life is so absurd these days, I am coming to a place inside myself where I feel at peace with it.  Funny, huh?  You too?

In spite of this, I can’t help but notice an occasional “odd thing” popping up on my radar every now and again.  Like how the media has just about dropped any news coverage of the nuclear meltdown(s) in Japan.  Like it never happened.  Oh I know, I mean really, why worry us, the masses, about something that is out of control, right?  It’s just that, oh, never mind…I will just not think about those kind of things.

Something funny that I saw and wanted to pass along…The Secret was a big thing a few years back, and there are people that I bump into who just “discovered” it and can’t believe how amazing it is today.

Like attracts like and it’s really as easy as that!  Just wish for a new car, or even a check in the mail for a million dollars, and it will appear.  I mean, it was all there in the book and you could even see people just like me and you who experienced it: OMG!  Many, many people spent money and made the people who came up with this incredible idea very rich.  Well, it’s no secret that the founders fought and sued each other over who would get all that money and no longer talk to each other.

Here’s a funny clip that made me laugh, from the Austrailain TV comedy satire show,  “The Chaser’s War on Everything” that makes fun of “The Secret”:

Whatever your space these days, I do hope you feel more optimistic than pessimistic, and remember…during these intense times, try to do what one of my favorite new illustrator’s, Katie Daisy, says to do:

I'm so challenged

I spent the last two weeks at home with a terrible case of bronchitis.   Too sick and contagious to work, I vegged out on the couch and spent my time watching daytime T.V.  Now that’s an experience, especially for us baby boomers.

Really!

I watched the last episodes of the Oprah Winfrey Show, lots of Dr. Oz (both shows are great for women over 50); morning talk shows; afternoon talk shows; The Lifetime Channel; The Classic Movie Channel; and of course all the commercials – and there are many.  All this shows led me to the discovery that our country is obsessed with challenges.  Why? I ask.  Isn’t living life itself challenging enough?  Why do we have to break it down?  Give it a name? The media is so good at seducing us with “challenges” and the products we need to overcome them.  Here are some of the tempting challenges even I contemplated while lying on the couch.

• The weight loss challenge (by far the most numerous) I was particularly drawn to the Dr. Oz challenge to reboot your body in just two weeks!  He also has the ultimate anti-ageing challenge, and the sleep challenge, too.
• Jillian Michaels fitness challenge
• Dr.Phil’s family weight loss challenge
• Here’s one I like, it’s twofold: anti-ageing and it will give you a new career while going to Botox school:
• Suze Orman has the ultimate financial challenge, plus  mini ones where you can save $100/mo:
• The teeth whitening challenge sponsored by Arm and Hammer:

Well, here’s my response to all this.  Really people?  Just take an anti-depressant and get on with it.

Here's a Dare!

Jane

This week I had a very disturbing experience:  I was offered a senior citizen discount at my grocery store!  I’ve never been offered this kind of discount before—anywhere—so it totally flummoxed me.  It didn’t help that the store had a cutesy little name for it, so when the clerk asked me if I had forgotten about their “wisdom discount,” all I could manage was a confused look.  Then it sank in:  she was offering me the discount for people 60 and older!

I almost blew up at the clerk—at her audacity in thinking I could be that old—until I realized that I’m only three years away from the “wisdom discount”.  And that’s when I really got depressed.

I didn’t want to get depressed, but that’s what happened.  I simply could not fathom that I could possibly look 60 to a 21- year-old.  How was that possible?  I’m way younger than that.  After all, I’m only 57!  Besides, I’ve always been the youngest one in my family, so how could I ever look 60?  60 is an age where you look grown up and mature.  Help! I don’t feel that way yet!

Besides, I’ve lost all that weight!  I thought I was looking young and beautiful and very far from 60!  I managed to get over the whole incident by telling myself that one, ridiculous clerk is just so young that she doesn’t have a clue about anyone’s age.  To her, a 40-year-old probably looks 60, I muttered under my breath.

Then it happened again—in a different store, with a different clerk—a very polite 40-year-old man, who asked me if I was “eligible for our senior discount?”.

Maybe with all the stress of this year, I’ve aged.  Maybe getting thinner has actually made me look older.  Who knows?  Maybe the problem is that I am, in fact, pretty darn close to 60, so I might as well get used to the sound of that number.

Whatever! All I can say is, I’m not ready for it yet.  I’ll adjust, eventually, when 60 rolls around.  I’ll be a very happy 60-year-old.  But until then,  I’ve got 3 more years, so I plan to celebrate the fact that I am still in my fifties.  And to hell with any young whippersnapper who thinks differently!  They can take their wisdom discount and….

I’m far too mature to complete that sentence, but you get my drift!

SADHVI

Well, I almost stopped doing this blog since some of my friends seemed to be concerned about me after my last posts.  For those friends who don’t know it, I have a very quirky sense of humor.  I think it was developed from all those winters that I spent growing up in Cleveland, Ohio.  At any rate, I didn’t realize that ending a post with Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” would give anyone cause for concern until I mentioned the weird reactions I was getting to a long-time friend who happens to be from Cleveland too.  She said she read my post, and as usual, simply enjoyed hearing from me.  However, she did say that having that Pink Floyd song might give someone the impression that I was drifting off into a suicidal binge – OMG!

I’ve been doing a post a week for the last couple of years, so if it sounds like I am going off into the deep end, in reality, I am not:  I am simply sharing something.  Consider these posts a little window into my reality, and simply enjoy.

There are just so many things that are in bloom right now.  I love my flowers, and I love how they photograph.

Here are a few that lit up my world this past week:

CORNFLOWER

AN ORIENTAL POPPY

CALIFORNIA POPPIES

PEONY

I also like to bake, and so here’s what I made this past week for my husband, who absolutely loves rhubarb.  This tart is made from the first batch of rhubarb from my garden.  And as usual, it was delicious!  I don’t even like rhubarb but I squealed when I my first taste of this.

SADHVI'S SWISS RHUBARB TART

I shared this secret and easy recipe for this before, so I have not re-posted it.  Just enter it in the search box at the top to get it from the archives.  It is timeless and always good.

What else?  I like to take our dog, Bello, for an evening walk on the trails nearby our house.  It is so quiet, and we usually don’t run into anyone, so it is especially nice.  I wanted to share a picture of the evening light that makes those walks magic for me.

THE LIGHT IN THE FOREST

So whatever your reality is, I invite you to share yours with me, or simply enjoy mine!

SIGN OF THE TIMES

Since Oops50 is a site about and for women over 50, I have to tell you that I am usually not aware of how old I am.  That’s why I don’t write about menopause, aches and pains, hot flashes, sharing the best face cream to take years off my face, etc.  OK, once in a while I notice something new, like jowls, and I have to write about it, but really, I  don’t think there is anything to be done about it except to be aware of my mind freaking out at times, and just accepting what is.

When I first started to develop breasts and have a period, I didn’t think I could change it; I just accepted it and didn’t really dwell on it.  It was also a change, and it was kind of weird, just like menopause.

I could also share what I heard the latest date on Rapture is (I think it’s the end of May now), how I feel about the radiation levels all over the planet, or how the Oxford English Dictionary added a lot of new words and phrases, including OMG and LOL (which I thought meant “lots of love” and now know it means, “laughing out loud”!).

Instead, I’d like to share one of my favorite recipes that is easy and very delicious.  When you read it, it’s going to sound complicated, but believe me, it’s not!  And not only will you be glad you tried this recipe, but you will feel like a genius and your loved ones who eat these will also look at you in a better way.

SADHVI'S SWISS MANDELGIPFELI !

Now you could just go buy some frozen puff pastry dough from the supermarket, but when you make this just once, why would you waste gas, and money, to get something that is filled with junk that is poison for your body?

Sadhvi’s Swiss Almond “Gipfeli”* (croissant)

The recipe for the pastry dough:

2 cps. Flour (I use King Arthur’s All Purpose Organic White Flour)

3/4 t. Salt…put all this is a bowl and whisk to mix.

Take 1 stick + 1 T. cold Organic Butter (and not Land ‘o Lakes), cut in pieces, and by hand, blend it and squeeze it and think good thoughts while doing so.  Think of your loving grandma, think all good wishes, think that you are making this for all the hungry people in the world, and imagine that everyone that eats it will be filled with love and happiness, and that will spread all over the planet.

Add…1/2 cup = 1 T. Sour Cream, or Yogurt, or Quark, and mix quickly into a ball…don’t knead!

Flatten in a ball in a bowl and put it in the fridge for a half hour.

Take out of fridge and roll out on a floured surface into a rectangle, about a half inch thick.  Bring the 2 shortest sides to the middle, and brush off any flour with brush or hands.  Cover with a t-towel and let it rest in the fridge for a 1/2 hour.

Now roll out the dough so that the short ends are now the long sides, and take fold the ends so that the top short end is folded under and the bottom short end  is folded under the bottom in the opposite direction than the top.  It sounds complicated, but really, just follow the instuctions.

Put it in the fridge again, covered, for another 30 minutes.

Now you want to make the filling:

2 cups ground Almonds

4 T. Apricot Jam

4 T. Milk…mix all these in a bowl, and add the grated rind of…

1 Organic Lemon

Line a baking pan with some parchment paper.

Preheat over on middle rack to 425F.

Take the dough out and divide in half, and make 2 balls.  Roll out one on a floured surface into a circle. Take a knife and cut into 8 triangular pieces…like you are cutting a pizza.

Spoon about 1 T. of the Almond filling along the outer rim, and brush some Milk or beaten egg mixture along the edges.

Roll each triangle from the wide end to the tip, making sure to lay on baking sheet this tip side down.

Brush with Egg or Milk mixture before putting in over.

Bake for around 18 minutes.

While waiting, mix 3 T. Powdered Sugar and 1/2 t. Lemon Juice in a little coffee cup.

When the Swiss Almond “Gipfeli” or croissants come out of the oven, brush this  mixture on top.

Let cool, and…enjoy!

SADHVI

p.s. “Gipfeli” is a Swiss word for the top of a mountain!

Annice

Is it just me or is it because I live in NC where basketball is king that I’m overwhelmed with March Madness?  To be honest, I really don’t care about it.  There it is.  I’ve said it.  I’ve got enough madness in my life, thank you very much.

Another truth, I never even heard about it until I met my husband 16 years ago.  He loves college basketball, and all sports except NASCAR (thank God).  Come mid-March, Madness lives in our living room because we are not a home with multiple televisions, something I insisted on long ago.  That means whenever there is any kind of tournament  (World Series, Super Bowl, PGA Golf, Wimbledon, etc.) the T.V. is on and on and on until I try to convince my husband to go downstairs to his office to watch this Madness on his laptop.  Needless to say, he doesn’t enjoy that AT ALL.

When I can no longer endure the basketball game in our house, I politely hand over the Sennheiser wireless headphones (which I highly recommend)  to  my husband before muting the T.V.

Sennheiser Headphones

When I question him about all this basketball, he thinks I’m crazy.  “Everyone watches college basketball this time of the year,” he assures me.  Really?  I’m pretty sure most of my friends don’t watch it.  I’m sure if I had sons who played basketball I’d be more interested.  Don’t get me wrong, I admire, even envy the talents of super athletes and their victories.  Who doesn’t like to see their team triumph?  But two weeks of basketball?  So, I’m asking, how many of you are really into all that March Madness?

Gwendie

There’s a blog that’s getting lots of attention.  It’s called “postsecrets”  (http://www.postsecret.com).  People send in anonymous handmade postcards with a personal secret on the back.  Things like “I wish my life were exciting”, and “When you see me in public and I seem to be reading a book, I’m really eavesdropping on you”.  Some are darker, more intimate.  I’ve been thinking about sending in one myself.  One of the things that holds me back is that, unlike the postcard makers who get their submissions posted, I’m not the least little bit creative in the visual sense.  Check out the website to see what I mean.

But my secret, like most of the ones on the website, is one that possibly a lot of other people, especially women, share with me.  It is this: I don’t feel sorry for women whose husbands have died; I feel envious.

There, I’ve said it.  Another problem with this secret, unlike the ones on the website, is that it needs more explanation to make any sense.  And that won’t fit so easily on a postcard.

I have friends and relatives (sometimes these are the same people), men and women, whose marriage partner died, and they were devastated.  They grieved and cried and missed their mate fiercely.  They yearned to have him or her back.  Some of them really look forward to reuniting in heaven.  They feel awful, at least for awhile, sometimes for a long while.  But still I am envious.

Here’s why:  to feel that bad about the loss of a spouse, there must have been a lot of good things about the marriage.  Good times, good experiences, good feelings to be so acutely missed.  Even the good memories are bittersweet; they remind my friends of their depth of their loss.

I never had that.  So I am envious.

I would trade places in a heartbeat.

Dear Johanna,

My husband is on Oxycotin for pain, following surgery on his back.  I don’t know if it’s the drugs or him, but he is driving me crazy.  I have been busting my butt cooking for him and preparing restaurant-quality meals, and here is a typical response:  “Boy, this shrimp is tough.  What did you do to it?”  Or, in response to fresh collard greens, sautéed in olive oil, garlic, and ginger:  “These collard greens are chewy!”  I’m trying to be loving and understanding and, since he’s totally immobilized, I’ve stopped myself short of screaming, “Why don’t you cook for yourself or order out?!!!”—but my patience is wearing thin.  Am I being overly sensitive?

Frustrated in Phoenix

Dear Frustrated, I say get him a feeding tube and go dancin’!  Or, if that seems harsh, how about upping the dose of his oxycotin just one night and letting him drift happily into dreamland while you get yourself away from that kitchen?!

Dear Johanna,

My husband is starting another new business—for the 10^th time—and it is taken all of our resources.  We’ve used up all of our savings, and there is nothing left.  Yesterday, he said, “I wish I had an extra $3,000—I could really make this business into something.”  I held out my arms and said, “Here, take my last vein!  You want me to give plasma for money?” Tell me, Johanna, was I being too mean?  I want to be a supporting wife, but I have nothing left!

Vehement in Virginia

Dear Vehement, I’d say you’ve done well to have been so nice to him through 9 other ventures!  And, besides, I’m not big on being the perfect wife.  Whenever I try to be one, all I end up with is a giant knot in my stomach—which can only be untangled by a good, cathartic blow-up at my husband.  I recommend it!  It releases stress.  It clears the air.  It may even make you like him again.  Go for it!

Dear Johanna,

My husband insists that he is not hard of hearing and does not need a hearing aid, but every time he watches something on television, he turns up the volume so loud that I’m surprised the neighbors don’t come over to watch the game with him! What can I do?

Going Deaf in Detroit

Dear Deaf, Don’t even try to convince him that he’s deaf.  Just get him one of those wonderful sets of wireless headphones with adjustable volume.  Then, he can turn up his own volume, while you sit happily watching the t.v. at your own, comfortable level.  And, if the store clerk happens to mention that the headphones are tailor-made for deaf people, so be it!

SADHVI

I don’t have to tell you that there’s a lot going on these days – everyone knows. The price of gas went up about 40 cents this past week.  Genetically modified food will be introduced to our food system and it will not have to be labeled.  It’s getting more difficult to buy a house and keep one.  Food prices will continue to go up.  The US Government is going broke.  The bee population is rapidly dwindling.  A computer is now smarter than humans.  And as much as I try to keep it simple, avoiding the news, it just seems to be everywhere!

Huffington Post got bought out by AOL recently for something like $350 million.  It used to be my homepage, but since the AOL buyout, the picture of the latest newsworthy item stays the same for a day or even longer.  It’s almost like it’s broken now.  I found some site that has soothing beach music to replace it, but its like listening to elevator muzak playing, “Feeling Groovy”.  Don’t worry, I’ll get used to it.  I mean, this is the start of the Brave New World; I just need a little more time.

By the way, I am happy for Arianna Huffington, the site’s innovative founder.  She created something totally unique, and the site felt alive and captured the pulse of  worldwide news minute by minute.  In my opinion, she deserves every million that she got for it.  It’s just too bad that AOL couldn’t keep it alive for more than a twitter second.

ARIANNA HUFFINGTON

I had a dream the other night that Arianna “friended” me on FaceBook and asked me and the Oops50 girls to be part of a new site.  I told her we had a vision to create a new show called “The Other View”, and Arianna said, “Yes, that’s exactly my vision, too.”

Instead of talking about things that hold no interest for me or other women over 50, (which just so happens to be the biggest population of women on the planet) we talked about what we wanted to talk about, and everything we shared was acknowledged and appreciated.  And, we didn’t change as we got famous.  I still wore the same monochromatic clothes and black pants with an elastic waist, I did not start dyeing my hair, and I still wore the same Chanel lipstick that I have worn for years.

I am proud of our baby boomer generation of women over 50.  We were revolutionary in many ways: we went braless, we wore pants (!), blue jeans even!  We were into being ourselves, and that meant being free.  So why would we want to look or be anything other than who we are right now?  That’s what “The Other View” would be about. Hmmm…Arianna, look us up on Facebook ‘cuz we’d love to share the Other View with you!

To get into a mellow space, click below to take a trip back in time with Simon and Garfunkel…it’s the real thing and it’s time to feel groovy!

A RARE MEDICAL CONDITION

A man and a woman were sitting beside each other in the first class section of an airplane.

The woman sneezed, took out a tissue, gently wiped her nose, and then visibly shuddered for ten or fifteen seconds.

The man went back to reading his book.

A few minutes later, the woman sneezed again, took a tissue, wiped her nose, then shuddered violently.

Although assuming the woman might have a cold, the man was still curious about the shuddering.  A few minutes passed when the woman sneezed yet again.

As before she took a tissue, wiped her nose, her body shaking even more than before.

Unable to restrain his curiosity, the man turned to the woman and said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you have sneezed three times, wiped your nose, and then shuddered violently.  Are you okay?”

The woman replied, “I am sorry if I disturbed you.  I have a rare medical condition.  Whenever I sneeze, I have an orgasm.”

The man, more than a bit embarrassed, was still curious and asked, “I have never heard of that condition before.  Are you taking anything for it?”

The woman nodded and said, “Yes, black pepper”.

THE BRIDGE

A man on his Harley was riding along a California beach when suddenly the sky clouded above his head and in a booming voice, God said, “Because you have tried to be faithful to me in all ways, I will grant you one wish.”

The biker pulled over and said, “Build a bridge to Hawaii so I can ride over anytime I want.”

God replied, “Your request is materialistic; think of the enormous challenges for that kind of undertaking; the supports required reaching the bottom of the Pacific and the concrete and steel it would take!  I can do it, but it is hard for me to justify your desire for worldly things.  Take a little more time and think of something that could possibly help mankind.”

The biker thought about it for a long time.

Finally, he said, “God, I wish that I, and all men, could understand women; I want to know how she feels inside, what she’s thinking when she gives me the silent treatment, why she cries, what she means when she says nothing’s wrong, why she snaps and complains when I try to help, and how I can make a woman truly happy.”

God replied, “You want 2 lanes or 4 lanes on that bridge?”

SADHVI

As a women over 50, the time has come where all I crave is Artisana’s Raw Organic Coconut Butter and laughter.  Items that are newsworthy are so bizarre these days that to write about what feels important to pass along is absurd.  So this week, I thought I would share an old Johnny Carson skit that made me chuckle and feel good.  I hope it does the same for you – enjoy!

Annice

If you recall, over a year ago, I wrote about Gus, my 10 year old Chesapeake Bay Retriever.  We rescued him eight years ago, complete with a bullet underneath his belly.

Gus taking it easy

My post at that time was about how constipated he was and how putting him on prednisone turned him into the dog from hell.  Needless to say, it was a messy time for both of us.

Well, poor Gus is not only constipated again but it’s much worse: perianal fistulas.  When the vet gave me the diagnosis, I immediately went home to research it.  I already knew the condition was painful because poor Gus took forever to poop, and moan while doing it.  Besides the pain, there was the itching, and irritation of the skin surrounding the anus.  Worse still, the poor guy has the beginnings of small ulcers surrounding his anus (I’ll spare you the photos).  Since Gus can’t take prednisone, he has to take an immunosuppressive medication (cyclosporine) which costs almost $300 for a month’s supply, and that’s if I buy it in Canada.  The doctor doesn’t know how long he has to be on it, but Gus doesn’t care than it costs more than my car payment.  Oh, he’s also on an antibiotic, and Flagyl (prescribed for  anti-inflammatory bowel).  And don’t let me forget to mention, he’s also taking Tramadol for pain relief for the ACL (Anterior Cruciate Ligament) connecting the shin bone to the thigh bone.)

Gus at play

Good dog

Despite all that, Gus is still very athletic, eats like it’s his last meal, and scares anyone who comes to the door unannounced.  And most of all, he’s extremely affectionate and worth all my efforts.  Obama care for dogs?  That’s what I’m talking about!

Annice

I don’t get it.  The economy is hurting, people are losing their homes, the shelters are begging for winter jackets and food for the homeless, and the Malls are packed.  How do I know this?  Every day, I pass the Mall on my way to and from work, and these days the parking lot is full.  So, tonight, I decided to stop by to see if people were actually Christmas shopping or just hanging out.

Serious Shoppers

And guess what?  Cha-ching, Cha-ching, Cha-ching – those cash registers were working overtime.   People were actually spending money and toting around the shopping bags to prove it.Plus, they were waiting in line at the Food Court for bad Mall food, bad Chinese, bad pizza, bad fries.

Bad Mall Food

Now, I don’t know about other women friends over 50, but this year I’m cutting back and making my gifts with my dear friend Sadhvi (if we can ever find the time to do it). This will not only enable me to save money, and feel crafty, but it will get me away from the dreaded shopping frenzy.  Please don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the holiday spirit as much as ya’ll – well, maybe not AS much since I’m Jewish and don’t really have to,  but what I want to know is where is everyone getting the money to shop, shop, shop and load up on bad Mall food?

Personally, if I didn’t feel so strongly about supporting the local business owners, I’d do more on-line shopping.  After all, it has its advantages.

Advantages to shopping on-line

      8.  I’m thankful that somebody at Duke invented Magic Mouthwash for the mysterious sores in my mouth.

9.  I’m thankful that the latest stray dog we have hasn’t gone into heat yet.

10.  I’m thankful that my collie who almost died this year is now healthy.

11.  I’m thankful that Obama, bless his heart, is president, even though nobody else in the country seems to be.

12.  I’m thankful for Lolo, my 85-year-old, extraordinary friend.

13.  I’m thankful when the dogs sleep past 7 in the morning.

Jane

As Thanksgiving approaches, I’ve been thinking of the things I have to be thankful for.  Sometimes it feels difficult to come up with a list, especially when times are hard, but writing them down helps.  Here’s ten of mine:

1)  I’m thankful that our dog, Tater, didn’t eat a) my new shoes or b) the cord to my son’s computer that was hanging so seductively in front of his face.

Tater

2)  I’m thankful that I’m managing to keep my weight off, despite having eaten my definition of deliciousness, i.e. Coffee-Heathbar ice cream made by Ultimate Ice Cream, the other night.

3)  It goes without saying:  I’m thankful for my children and my husband and my wonderful women friends (and the men friends, too) and our families, especially my great nieces (all 5 of them!).

4)  I’m thankful for every night that I make it through the night without waking up once.

5)  I’m thankful for Jon Stewart and Rachel Maddow.

6)  I’m thankful for SKYPE, my favorite new toy.

7)  I’m thankful that Otis Redding lived and recorded “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long.”

8)  I’m thankful for Obama in the White House.

9) I’m thankful for SPANX!

W. H. Auden

10) I’m thankful that my face, although wrinkled, does not look like W. H. Auden’s yet.

Annice

How far you would drive for a great AFFORDABLE haircut?  Would you drive 2.5 hours?  I confess, I did exactly that.  Included in that haircut was color to banish the gray, a few caramel-colored highlights that my sister says is needed to lighten up the face, and since I had to wait for the color anyway, I went ahead and had my eyebrows waxed.  So there, I drove 2.5 hours up and over the mountains (round-trip) from Asheville, NC to Unicoi, TN for a day of high maintenance.  On the way, I picked up my friend Betty in Marshall where we had breakfast  at Zuma’s before heading out to the Dragonfly Salon.

Me, Betty and Zuma's

“Why do it?, my husband asks.  “You’re crazy.  You mean to tell me there is not one hairdresser in all of Asheville who can cut your hair?”  Of course there is, but I don’t feel like paying two hundred dollars every time I need a cut and color.  You see, I was spoiled by Mari, who is not only a great haircutter and colorist, but does it very affordably.

The Infamous Dragonfly Salon in Unicoi, TN

Me and Mari - the process begins

When Mari first moved to Tennessee I told myself I would never drive to another state for a haircut.  That was before I spent two years in search of the perfect hairdresser, stopping women everywhere asking them who cut their hair and how much they paid.  I had no shame.  I want to tell you, no one has ever accused me of being cheap.   I completely support stylists getting as much as they can for their haircuts.  It’s just that I can’t pay those big city prices, and let’s not forget that the economy tanked and without any cost of living increase over the last three years, my salary has been going down instead of up.  And yes, I’m happy to have a job – no whining here.

So, after considerable introspection, I embarked on the Big C (the big compromise).  I opted to go local and accept a mediocre haircut and color at half the price.  That lasted for two years until my mediocre stylist turned what was supposed to be brown hair (with caramel highlights) totally blond.  I screamed.  I had no one to blame but myself.  Why did I tell her to leave her lazy husband who hadn’t worked for two years and forced her to pay the mortgage, the loan for his houseboat, and his kid’s vacation at Disneyland?   No doubt, my blond hair was  punishment for giving out free advice when not asked!

So that’s how I ended up driving 2.5 hours to Tennessee with my good friend Betty,  only to return to North Carolina at 4:00 in the afternoon, nicely coiffed and colored.  And in case you’re wondering why I  just don’t go gray, let me tell you, if the economy gets any worse, I will have to because I won’t be able to afford the gas.

Annice and Betty looking good!

Gwendie

I took one of those online tests today, you know the kind.  You go to a website (in this case, it’s www.realage.com, you can try it yourself).  Apparently it has been recommended by both Dr. Oz AND Oprah Winfrey, so it must be good, right?  You answer a whole bunch of questions about your health, habits, diet, fitness, and relationships.  Then they send you a “Personalized Real Age and Plan to Improve” (assuming that most of us are “older” than our real age, based on the kinds of good living questions included on the test.  NO ONE can truthfully answer them all “correctly.”)

Anyhow, I was pleased to be able to report that I ALWAYS wear seat belts, my parents stayed together until I was at least 18, I quit smoking 40 years ago and I don’t get secondhand smoke, I’ve had my pneumonia vaccine, I eat lots of fruits and veggies, and I do some moderate amount of exercise and a bunch of other good stuff, too.

Of course, I also have metastatic cancer, have a BMI over 28, take more than 5 prescription drugs, and don’t go to church once a week.  And those things must count for a BUNCH of bad points, because, ladies and gentlemen, RealAge has calculated, for my personal use and benefit, that while my actual age is 69.1 years, my REAL AGE is 91.6!

Yes, that’s right, ninety-one point six.  I’m as old as my neighbor Mr. Bradburn who still tills and plants a big garden every year and chops his own wood to heat his house.  And who, by the way, also mows my grass—for free.  So how bad can 92 be?  Well, bad, because he also suffers from all kinds of ailments, so can you imagine what his Real Age would be?

Boy, RealAge really knows how to encourage a gal.  My Real Age is 20+ years more than my chronological age, and the best they can do with suggestions for improvement is to lose weight, watch those drug interactions, and eat more complex carbohydrates!  Hot diggity dog.

Big help, they are.  And if I do all those things, I can bring my Real Age down to 85.  Yea!!!

I tell you one thing, I’m going to think twice before taking any more of those online questionnaires.  It’s just too depressing, and that’s not good for my health.  Although, come to think of it, I’m doing pretty darn well for a 92 year old!

 ”That will be $9.40 please.”

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.

The next day, the man and the ostrich come again and the man says, “A hamburger, fries and a coke…”
 
The ostrich says, “I’ll have the same…”

Again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change .

This becomes routine until the two enter again. “The usual?” asks the waitress.

“No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato and a salad,” says the man.

“Same,” says the ostrich.
 
Shortly the waitress brings the order and says, “That will be $32.62.”

Once again the man pulls the exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table.

The waitress cannot hold back her curiosity any longer.

“Excuse me, sir.  How do you manage to always come up with the exact change in your pocket every time?”

 
“Well,” says the man, “several years ago I was cleaning the attic and found an old lamp.

When I rubbed it, a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes.  My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there.”

“That’s brilliant!” says the waitress, “Most people would ask for a million dollars or something, but you’ll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!”

“That’s right, whether it’s a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there,” says the man.

The waitress asks, “What’s with the ostrich?”

The man sighs, pauses and answers, “My second wish was for a tall chick with a big bottom and long legs who agrees with everything I say” .

The moral of the story is: Be careful what you ask for!

I started meditating in 1979 I guess, and have tried to find that space since then through love, laughter, friends, painting, gardening, and of course food.  I saw this little video of Puppetji and laughed…I hope you do too!

Annice

Given all the fuss a post or two ago about Oprah looking for women obsessed with aging and beauty, I am happy to turn that page and introduce you to a beautiful and creative  woman over 50 who is far too busy creating cards and more for us women over 50 than being obsessed with aging.   Meet Diane English, a self-taught artist who owned a metaphysical book store in St. Augustine, Florida before moving to Asheville, NC 10 years ago.   After reading The Artist’s Way by Julie Cameron, Diane decided to follow her dream of combining art with her spiritual path allowing her to embark on the next phase of her life.  After visiting her in her studio and seeing many of her cool, cosmic characters, I’d say she is living her dream – minus the downtown condo she covets.

Diane at play, oops, I mean work.

Diane is the owner and creator of  The Great Cosmic Happy Ass Card Co, and if you’ve never received one of her cards, send yourself one.  Why not?  They’re inspiring, whimsical and just plain old kick-ass funny.  This is one of my favorites. This beautiful woman over 50 has aspired to achieve a higher consciousness along her journey, and not without some help from “years of deep meditation, medication, fasting, prayer and a few bottles of Merlot.”  Having had a subscription to her cards,  I knew I was in for a treat when we finally sat down in her lovely bright living room drinking coffee and nibbling scones.

Oops50: What made you finally decide to leave Florida and your bookstore, “Dream Street,” and go into the card business?

Diane: About once every 7 years, I did a painting, and one of them was titled, “Reach for Your Stars.” That became my first card, and it sold out in my bookstore.  Then, I made more cards and magnets, and soon those sales were accounting for 20% of my gross revenue.  That’s when the big box book stores moved in, and I took that as sign to make a change.

Oops50: Kind of like the movie, “You’ve Got Mail.”

Diane: You got it.

Oosp50: How did you come up with the business name, Great Cosmic Happy Ass Co. ?

Diane: I really wanted to use smart ass but I didn’t feel I could really do that.  So, my customers helped me pick the name.

Oops50:  So now I’m going to change the subject a little.  What’s your fondest childhood memory?

Diane: My grandfather carrying me on his shoulders while walking me to the zoo.  He was Irish and English, and we lived in Philly and walked everywhere.  When we got to the zoo, there was a blackbird in a cage at the entrance and he said, “Hi, I’m Joe.”

Oops50: What’s was the first record you bought? Diane: It’s a tie between Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto and Bill Haley and the Comets.

Oops50: Any advice for women over 50?

Diane: Well, I’m well over 50 – 68 in fact.  Don’t listen to anyone.  Follow your heart and do what you want to do.  Don’t be intimidated by the “should’s” in life.  Oh yeah, and keep your nose out of other people’s business.

Oops50:  Right.  I need to remember that.  So what turns you on?

Diane: A romantic dinner in an Italian restaurant, with Luciano Pavarotti singing in the background.

Oops50: So you like Italian?

Diane: I had an aunt who married an Italian, and I remember wonderful Italian dinners.  And I like to cook Italian food–outrageously delicious.

Oops50: What next?  Any new dreams?

Diane: A downtown condo with a large patio and a great view of the mountains of Western NC.  It should have a cable railing, a fireplace on the left side, a kitchen behind that, and a loft upstairs.  The light will be clean and beautiful.  And, don’t forget Rachmaninoff playing in the background.

Oops50: Any must have products you can’t live without?

Diane: My Netflix subscription and Roku, so I can download old movies.

Oops50: So what’s your favorite movie?

Diane: “Casablanca.”  And have you seen “Sunshine Cleaning?”  A very funny movie.

Oops50: So what’s Roku?

Diane: It’s great.  A little black box that lets you stream movies from Netflix.  It’s great.

Oops50: I’ll check it out.  Last question:  Any regrets so far?

Diane: Only that I didn’t know in my 20s what I know now.  And, that I don’t have the same body as I did in my 20’s.

Oops50: Who does?

Jane

I need to rant today!  All four of our kids are home this summer.  All four of our kids are teenagers–or close enough for government work!  The youngest is 14, the oldest 23.  Here’s the deal:  they are all in transitional stages.  One is finishing up college by going to summer school.  One is doing a gap year from college and getting ready to embark on an adventure in Mexico.  One is starting college in the fall.  One is starting high school in the fall.  So all 4 of them are in an antsy, restless stage, wondering if their new life will be ok, wondering if they’ll be content and happy, wondering, off and on,  how they can stand to live with their parents without shooting them in their sleep!  It’s a lot of fun.  They go back and forth between unbelievable sweetness–the kind that brings tears to your eyes–and complete irritability with everything parental. 

Mostly, since they all 4 see their freedom coming to an end in the fall, they are determined to take full advantage of it now–and I mean full advantage, in the way that only teenagers can.  They want every hour of every day to be filled with interesting activity.  So they stay up as long as possible every night and sleep all hours of the day, while working whenever they can fit it in (my son, for instance, has a job that starts at 9 p.m. and goes until 4 a.m.!) and trying to see all their friends as often as possible (when they are not facebooking them or texting them). 

One of the results of this restless, live-for-today behavior is that we never know ahead of time  1) how many mouths will need to be fed at the dinner table 2) where each of them will be spending the night (except for our 14-year-old, thank goodness!) 3) when/if they will get their respective forms filled out for their respective financial aid, job applications, applications to programs, etc. and 4) if we can survive on sleep deprivation caused by loud, raucous laughter at 4 a.m. in the downstairs guest bedroom (on the good nights, when they bring their friends to sleep at our house).   Mostly, I’m turning into a crazy woman who thinks it’s 6 a.m. when it’s 2 and yells down the stairs at a room full of kids:  “Everyone go to bed NOW!” Don’t get me wrong.  I wouldn’t change a thing about my 4 kids.  They are loving, open, generous, funny, smart, hardworking (when they have to be) people, and we’re very proud of them.  And part of the problem is that I am a crazy, neurotic mother who cannot sleep without knowing that each one of them is safe in his/her respective location.  I don’t have this problem when they are away at college.  I sleep like a baby (that is, until the phone rings at 2 a.m. because one of them has had some kind of crisis).  I don’t know why it is that when they are home with us for the summer, I have to know they are safe inside a house somewhere before I can drift off.  I guess it all boils down to this: I wish that I had started having kids when I was 10, so that I would be 33 now instead of 56 and could handle this phase of my life with more energy and a better sense of humor!  I think the answer is clear:  

Here’s what my husband and I decided last night (after five interruptions of our sleep that created a situation where we were wide awake at 4 a.m.): if there is a God, he/she must have created teenager behavior in order to make the empty nest syndrome easier to bear.

Sadhvi

I am about to go on a road trip to visit my family in Cleveland, Ohio.  I am really looking forward to it because I like driving and I get to spend some real time with my husband.   And, I find it so relaxing driving through parts of this beautiful country that are not considered tourist areas…like West Virginia!  I also like to get those tin cans or glass jars of Starbucks coffee and drink them along the way. 

They taste good, and they give me a buzz, and hey, they can’t be that bad for you since it’s just coffee and water and some sugar, right? 

Well, I guess I was wrong, because it turns out that drinking one of those Starbucks Frappaccino’s is like eating a bunch of Nabisco’s Nilla Wafers.  Now I know why I am obese!!!  Seriously, click on the link below and take a look at this article from  Men’s Health that shows what the sugar equivalent is on mine and your favorite cold drinks: I am still in shock!

http://eatthis.menshealth.com/slide/worst-water?slideshow=184612#title

What USED to be my favorite coffee drink!

Jane

My daughter, Becky, turned 18 a couple months ago, and we surprised her with a paintball party with her girlfriends.  When 2 of the girls didn’t show up, my husband and I, being cheap and insane, decided to play.  This was our reasoning:  how bad could it be?  It’s a game that millions of people in America play every year and seem to enjoy!  It would be a bonding experience with our daughter, who is leaving for college soon!!

We should have known we were in trouble when they outfitted us in protective gear for our heads and chests and handed us our lethal-looking weapons.  Here we are, ready to go:

As soon as we were suited up, they told us about all the things that could go wrong–and all the various ways that we could get hurt–and made us sign a waiver.  Then they introduced us  to our “enemies”:  a team of six very muscular people in camoflage gear and make-up, with their own private paintball guns.  I should have backed off then–but, no.  I wanted to feel young and energetic in my new thinner state!  I wanted to show my daughter what a cool mom I could be!

They led us to the woods, where we were supposed to spread out, hide, and wait for the enemies to come after us.  They told us an important rule:  if we got hit by someone, we were to hold up our gun to show that we were dead, so that people would stop shooting at us.  My heart raced with excitement.  I felt the way I used to feel at the beginning of a good game of “Kick the Can.” 

That was the last moment of enjoyment for me.  I am here to report that I have never done anything quite so terrifying.  I have always been anti-war, in a vague, hippyish sort of easy-thinking way.  But after being stalked and shot at from point-blank range, I am now against war in a gut-level, fear/hatred/revulsion kind of way.  What do you know?  It turns out I don’t enjoy crawling and hiding behind trees and under bushes, in fear that someone is going to jump out from behind their own bush and shoot me.  And I really don’t like wandering by  mistake into a creek that is mostly mud and getting my feet stuck, with the sound of footsteps approaching, so that my heart starts racing, as I’m drenched in sweat, and the only thought I have is:  “Get me out of this creek and away from here NOW!”

Standing there in that creek, I forgot all the rules, so, I guess I really got into the game!  I saw an enemy approaching, and I knew I had to kill or be killed.  I simply failed to notice that he had his gun held up in surrender.  Charging up out of that creek, gun blazing, mud and sweat dripping, I fired and fired and fired at him, and every paint ball hit him square in the chest. I felt victorious!  I had hit someone before they hit me!  I was good at this game!  Then, through the rush of blood in my brain, I heard–and understood–the words he was screaming:  “Hey, whacko!  Stop shooting!  I was dead already, for God’s sake!” 

I played one more game after that.  And then I got shot in the head (by accident)–because I came out from my cover too soon, and one of my daughter’s friends shot me in the only place where I had no protective gear.  It hurt like hell.  That sent me right off the playing field, sobbing like a baby.  I was done! 

I don’t think I’ll ever play Paintball again, but it was definitely a good experience.  It gave me all kinds of insights into war–and myself–some of which I could do without!  In any case, here’s the group of girls, right in the thick of things:

And here I am, after leaving the field of battle, sitting happily on a bench with my other, saner daughter, who decided before the game started that she would rather sit it out in the heat and wait for us, no matter how long it took, than play any kind of game that involved idiots in camoflage, protective gear, and guns!

Sadhvi

I know this one has been around for a while, but, I love to watch this ad for Evian. And since it is so damned hot where I live, I can’t help but think this is going to be how I dress when I have to go out. I think diapers with a little t-shirt might be the only way I can survive this heat wave if it continues!

Oh, this YouTube clip expains everything.

Take a look at how this horrible ecological disaster is being handled by BP executives, and the big chief, Kevin Costner.  I wonder if Obama finds any humor in that?!

A group of  40-year-old girlfriends discussed
where they should meet for dinner.  Finally,
they agreed to meet at the Ocean View
Restaurant, because the waiters  there were good
looking and had buff bodies.

10 years  later at 50-years-of-age, the group
once again discussed where they  should meet for
dinner. Finally, they agreed to meet at the
Ocean View  Restaurant, because the food there
was very good and the wine selection was  good
also.

10 years  later at 60-years-of-age, the group
once again discussed where they  should meet for
dinner. Finally, they agreed to meet at the
Ocean View  Restaurant, because they could eat
there in peace and quiet, and the  restaurant
had a beautiful view.

10 years  later at 70-years-of-age, the group
once again discussed where they  should meet for
dinner. Finally, they agreed to meet at the
Ocean View  Restaurant, because the restaurant
was wheel chair accessible and had an  ”early
bird special.”

10 years  later, at 80-years-of-age, the group
once again discussed where they  should meet for
dinner. Finally, they agreed to meet at the
Ocean View  Restaurant, because they had never
been there before

Sadhvi

Everyone I know is either taking yoga, doing yoga, training to become a yoga instuctor, or thinking about all of the above. Growing up there was only Jack Lalanne, so I think the trend is a good sign that we all want to feel good as we get older!
Here is a clip I found that shows my own personal workout that I do right along with the Ross Sisters. It looks a lot harder than it is. Try it yourself and see if you don’t start feeling a lot more flexible in no time!

Sadhvi

I went to visit my friend Judi last week.  After a hello and a hug, she started to tell me about this pair of shoes that she just bought.  The way she was acting, it was as if she had fallen in love with someone.  Great I said.  After years of seeing cute shoes that only go up to size 10 or 11 and that I will never be able to wear because I am a size 11.5 – 12, I no longer feel any jealousy.   Judi kept going on and on about these shoes that she just had to show me.  Hmmm, I was having a litte deja-vu experience.  Her excitement was the same as what Jane had when she wrote about falling in love with a pair of red Jambu shoes.  It turns out that Judi’s shoes were the exact same ones!  I must admit, my breath quickened a bit when I held these shoes in my own two hands.  They had flowers embedded in lucite in the arch and they looked so good.!

Jane and Judi's Jambu Red Shoes!

Judi’s friend was there, and said she had just walked 14 miles in San Fransciso in hers, another model, the Jambu Planet  and couldn’t believe how comfortable they were. 

Judi's friend's Jambu Planet Shoes

I started to walk out of the room slowly, which is my way of leaving a situation that I find uncomfortable.  Judi said that I could get them in a men’s style…surely.  Well, after googling them online, it turns out that they do not.  

I guess I will always long to have a pair of beautiful comfortable shoes.  So please, check these shoes out on my behalf.  Really, go ahead.  Get a pair and feel like you are in love.  It will make me happy that you are happy with your cool and very comfortable shoes!

Content coming soon.

Months went by.  I watched them from a distance, but I knew they could never be mine.  I was content.

Then, in a horrible, depressing stroke of fate, Patricia left our office to take a new job elsewhere.  I was devestated.  I missed her wonderful presence.   And, I missed  her shoes!  Weeks went by, and I resigned myself to my new, empty life.  Then, the weekend came when my husband suggested I reward myself for losing so much weight by buying a new pair of shoes.  We went to the store, and I tried on pair after pair after pair.  Then, the sales lady said the fateful words:  “I think I have the perfect pair for you,” and brought out the red shoes, in size 10 or 11–I could try both!  And, unlike every other shoe that looks great in miniature but turns into a gun boat in my size, they looked great.  And they made my feet look smaller!  I was in love, truly in love, with a pair of shoes, for the first time in my life. 

I have to say:  I’ve never understood, until now, my women friends (and some men) who love shoes and notice each other’s shoes and talk about shoes.  I didn’t get it.  But that was then, when I was a shoe virgin!  Here they are, from both angles. 

Take a look and see if you don’t agree that they are the most magnificent shoes you’ve ever seen.  Best of all, they feel good on your feet.  All this and heaven, too! 

And, best of all, Patricia forgives me when we wear them to the same event, which happens occasionally–although she does get a certain look in her eye.  I can almost hear her saying the words:  “You little slut shoe stealer!”

Sadhvi

It feels like ages since I’ve posted something.  I had a really bad cold, and I didn’t feel like doing anything for a couple of weeks.  I also turned 52.

I had this urge to bake a chocolate cake with white, fluffy icing just like my grandma, Mabel Carter, used to make.  I never made her “7 minute frosting” before, but I thought it was high time now that I am starting to look like her!

After looking hard and not being able to find her recipe in my collection, I decided to make one that sounded just like hers, called “Wonderful Marshmallow-Like Frosting” by Susan Branch that is in her Sweets to the Sweet book.  She has a cult following, and I am one of her groupies.  Here’s what she says, followed by the recipe:

“The classic boiled frosting, pure white, shiny and fluffy.  You’ll need a candy thermometer.

1/3 c. water                                        a pinch of salt

1 c. sugar                                           2 egg whites

1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar           1 tsp. vanilla

Stir the water, sugar, cream of tartar & salt together in a small, heavy-bottomed pan.  Hook a candy thermometer to the edge of the pan & boil without stirring until mixture reaches 240 F.  In the meantime, beat egg whites until stiff.  Pour the 240F syrup over the whites in a thin stream, beating constantly until thick & glossy.  Stir in the vanilla.  Now frost the cake!

I found a simple chocolate cake recipe called “Gateau Therese” in David Lebovitz’s The Sweet Life in Paris.  This is a must read book, by the way.  The following is what he has to say about it…

“Every Frenchwoman I know loves chocolate so much she has a chocolate cake in her repertoire that she’s committed to memory, one she can make on a moment’s notice.  This one comes from Therese Pella, who lives across the boulevard from me; when I first tasted the cake, I swooned from the rich, dark chocolate flavor and insisted on the recipe.

Madame Pellas is fanatical about making the cake 2 days in advance and storing it in her kitchen cabinet before serving, which she says improves the chocolate flavor.  And the Brie she keeps in there as well doesn’t seem to mind the company…”

I actually use just one stick of butter, which is probably a few grams less than what is called for, and, since most of my friends are into gluten-free eating, I use ground almonds instead of flour.

9 ounces (250g) bittersweet chocolate or semisweet chocolate, chopped

8 T. (120 g) butter

1/3 cp. (65 g) sugar

4 eggs, at room temperature, separated

2 T. ground almonds

A pinch of salt

Try this recipe…it’s really really good.

And, oh, thankfully, it’s Spring!

Sadhvi

I tried to fax one piece of paper to a client of mine today.  It didn’t go through.  Hmmm, I called her to tell her that there seemed to be a problem.  I asked her if she had gotten any faxes recently?  She said no, that actually, she had never received one; she just sends faxes on occasion.  Well, she tried to find out if she could get it working, and couldn’t.  Too bad, right?

Then I emailed a terrific coupon to a friend of mine  from the local health food store: a pound of organic coffee and a big package of granola for free, with any purchase – wow!  My friend wrote me back saying thanks, but her printer wasn’t working today.  Darn!

iPhone

My husband rarely gets any bars around where we live with his iPhone because the service is so bad with AT&T.  But it’s supposed to be so great now that our area has finally got 3G service, and now I see they even offer 4G service – oh boy!  It never makes any sense to me as to why someone would want a cell phone with little or no coverage, unless it was really just a toy, which it is.  I had one for about 3 days, which was the limit of my patience with no coverage.  Strange enough though, the comments I got from people just seeing me holding that worthless phone were kind of funny…they all thought I looked cool holding it!

Then I get an email from a friend saying I should check out this system called EVERNOTE that says it will help me  ”Remember everything”.  Now that is a tempting proposal, but really, just looking at their web site just made my migraine worse (click on the big bold EVERNOTE link above and see if you don’t get an immediate reaction to run away.  I double dare you.)

I cannot handle another thing to make my life simpler, and that includes hearing about it either…including, but not limited to: Kindle, the latest Smart Phone, the new GPS device, getting more business using Twitter, or any of the  other new and wonderful Social Media that keeps making me feel like I have to keep up…that’s it, I think I have reached my limit!

Instead of trying to keep up with the latest s0-called technology, I am going to go back to what I enjoy the most: recipes and gardening.  And being curious about other people…maybe I will start to interview my interesting friends and family for a while.

Now excuse me, I have to go through the emails that came in while I was writing this post before they build up to the point where it becomes my new part-time job.

As she turns around, her worst nightmare materializes in the form of a salesman standing right behind her and he’s good looking as well.

Cool as a cucumber, he displays all of the qualities one would expect of a professional in a store like Tiffany’s.  He politely greets the lady with, “Good day, Madam.  How may we help you today?”

Blushing and uncomfortable, but still hoping that the salesman somehow missed her little ‘incident’, she asks, “Sir, what is the price of this lovely bracelet?”

He answers, “Madam, if you farted just looking at it – you’re going to sh-t when I tell you the price.”

Sadhvi

This past weekend we were snowed in.  Last Tuesday and Wednesday we had a blizzard with constant winds of about 50 mph, night and day.  The weekend before we had 3 solid days of non-stop rain, with a little mud slide thrown in nearby.  Now I know, I could be 6 feet under rubble in Haiti, so believe me, I am not complaining:  I am just noticing things!

So if I could get away, it wouldn’t be to the Caribbean, it wouldn’t be to Mexico, it would be to one of my favorite thermal baths in Switzerland.

When I lived in Switzerland http://www.myswitzerland.com, I got such a thrill out of taking the train and going to one of the many beautiful, clean, and affordable hot springs.  I liked to visit and experience the different minerals that made up each of the hot springs.

It was very interesting to find that the salt-based hot springs made me feel like I had just been disinfected; very clean, and all cuts were healed.  The baking soda mineral bath was a true delight!  It made my skin feel like silk, and it was the most relaxing.  In the little town of Vals was a smallish pool that had mountain meadow herbs like fresh-cut hay and lavender flowers that was very nice.

But maybe my most favorite was the one in a little village called Scuol in an area that speaks a language that is a mixture of German, French, and Italian, and that language is called Romansch.  It is supposedly a dying language, which makes it intriguing right there.  Listening to people speak Romansch, which is Latin-based like English, made me feel as if I was not on the planet Earth, and I like that feeling -  a lot.

I wish I could take a few weeks off and go to Switzerland, where they are also having record amounts of snow and cold.

But at least they have these incredible mineral baths that you can escape to!  Where dipping  your toe  into 38 degree Celsius water (that’s 100.4 °F) and feeling the body turn into liquid relaxation as you slink into the waters that make you feel like you have gone back to a primodial place called  “Aahhhhhh” … yes, I’ll take one of those right now, please.

1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   and 30

Good! 

Now aren’t you glad to know that you accomplished something today?

Tomorrow we’ll post the ABC’s.

Sadhvi

I have never been a big fan of February.  If February was at the beginning of winter, I think I would choose to live closer to the equator and put up with scorpions and cockroaches and hurricanes.  In Cleveland where I grew up, I don’t remember having any conversations with anyone in February simply because the only thing that was on anyone’s mind was another month of winter, and to talk about it only made it worse.  One thing that makes these cold months bearable for me is cooking and baking.  I am no David Lebovitz although I feel closer and closer to him now that I have read several of his books, and get his blog regularly.  In fact, I even had a wonderful dream about him, which as I remember, made my day.  Among other things, David has made me aware that there is a difference in chocolate!  My favorite in the moment is Callebaut’s, which is available from two of the health food store in town, and not so expensive – lucky me.

So here’s the recipe for one of my favorite’s, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.  It’s so easy and so much more delicious than the traditional ones, that if you make it once, I have a very clear psychic message from another dimension that this recipe will become one of your favorites.  It is adapted from Alicia Silverstone’s vegan recipe, and it is as follows:

Sadhvi’s Peanut Butter Cups

½  cup Earth Balance Butter, or some regular organic Butter

¾  cup of your favorite organic peanut butter

¾  cups of your favorite organic graham crackers, ground up in the Cuisinart

¼  cup organic sugar

1 cup of the best chocolate you have, like Callebaut’s

¼  cup or so of organic half and half

¼  cup of chopped smoked almonds, peanuts, whatever you like or have around!

Line a 12 muffin tin with paper liners.

Put the butter and the peanut butter in a small saucepan, and over low to medium heat, whisk and stir until it’s combined.

Add the sugar and combine.

Add the crushed graham crackers and mix.

Now pour this mixture evenly into the muffin tins.  Or spoon it.  Whatever is easier!

In another small saucepan, combine the chocolate and half and half over very low heat.  Whisk it.  Smell it.  Love it.  Just don’t cook it too much!

Pour over the peanut butter mixture in the muffin tins.  Put some chopped nuts on top.  Refrigerate overnight.

Then, before you let anyone try one of these the next day, sample one yourself.

And be transported to another time, another place…maybe another month!

Giuseppe replied to the assembled husbands,  “Wella, I’ve a-tried to treat-a her nicea, spenda da money on her, but besta of alla is, I tooka her to Italy for the 25th anniversary!”

The priest responded, “Giuseppe, you are an amazing inspiration to all the husbands here!  Please tell us what you are planning for your wife for your 50th anniversary?”

Giuseppe proudly replied, “I’m a gonna go get her.”

He said, “It is between two wolves.

The one wolf is evil:  Anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance,
self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.

The other is good:  Joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf wins?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one I feed.”

“How much do you weigh?” she asked.
“135,” I said.
The nurse put me on the scale.

It turns out my weight is 180.

The nurse asked, “Your height?”
“5 foot 4,” I said.
The nurse checked and saw that I only measure 5′ 2″.

She then took my blood pressure and told me that it is very high.

“Of course it’s high!” I screamed, ‘When I came in here I was tall and slender!  Now I’m short and fat!”

She put me on Prozac.

What a bitch!

Or that my brain is too full, trying to remember who only gets email at their home address, or who only answers text messages, or who doesn’t get cell phone coverage on their iPhone to even get their emails or messages? Or even, who doesn’t respond to anything any more! It’s funny, in this age where the whole hype of social media, and how to be connected is all that people talk about–as if it’s a game to see who has the “latest” gadget–I am becoming more and more disinterested in staying in touch with “friends”.

The truth is, FaceBook was ok when I had a hundred or so friends, but now that I have almost 300, I cannot keep up with what is happening with them all. And frankly, I don’t even care.

I don’t think I will be getting a smart phone any time soon. I really don’t want to take pictures with my phone: I have a really good digital camera that works fine. And I don’t want to type emails to anyone with that ridiculously small keypad. I have a computer with a keyboard the size that I have been typing my whole life on and feel comfortable with. Why change if I am fine with what I have? And why would I want to send and receive text messages? If I want to chat with someone, I can email, pick up the phone, or if I really want to take a little vacation from my day, I can actually sitdown and write a letter or send one of the many beautiful cards I have collected over the years, or even one of my own hand-painted cards.

Here is a little clip for those that dare see where we are going, or should I say, where some people are going – because I may just stay where I am, with the technology that I have.

P.S. Oh, if you feel like it, I would really like to know where YOU are with all that is available to us and costs a small fortune, I might add! Are you trying to keep up? Have you decided that you are ok with just a computer and a cell phone too?

After a week of this, she can’t stand it anymore, takes her complaint
to a supervisor in the Human Resources department and asks to file a sexual harassment grievance against him.

The Human Resources supervisor is puzzled and asks,  ”What’s sexually
threatening about a co-worker telling you that your hair smells nice?” 

The woman replies, “It’s Keith, the midget.”

A Preacher was explaining that he must move on to a larger congregation that will pay him more.

There is a hush within the congregation.

No one wanted him to leave.

Joe Smith, who owns several car dealerships in the City stands up and proclaims,

“If the Preacher stays, I will provide him with a new Cadillac every year, and his wife with a Honda mini-van to transport their children!”.

The congregation sighs in relief and applauds.

Sam Brown, a successful entrepreneur and investor, stands and says,

“If the Preacher will stay on here, I’ll personally double his salary, and also establish a foundation to guarantee the college education of all his children!”.

More sighs and loud applause.

Sadie Jones, age 88, stands and announces with a smile,

“If the Preacher stays, I will give him sex!”.

There is total silence.

The Preacher, blushing, asks her, “Mrs. Jones, whatever possessed you to say that?”.

Sadie’s 90 year-old husband Jake is now trying to hide, holding his forehead with the palm of his hand, and shaking his head from side to side, while his wife replies,

“Well , I just asked my husband how we could help, and he said,  ”Screw him”!

For my 60th birthday, my husband decided to gift me with a new laptop.  Now, keep in mind that I have a lovely laptop that he gave me 3 years ago (with no consultation) that weighs 18 POUNDS–which may not sound like much but is too heavy for me to lug around because of my knee problems.  I have often complained about its weight and even left it behind when I would have liked to have it with me–but he has been happy to use it.  Anyway, guess what my husband got me this time!:  ANOTHER 18 POUNDER!  I asked him to return it for one that I could carry more easily, but, instead, he kept it for himself BECAUSE, in fact, his is not working right, so HE GOT IT FOR HIMSELF and got mad at me for complaining, with the old “I can never do anything right.”  I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but last Christmas, he got me a camera that I didn’t really want or need and said “well, if you don’t like it, I”ll use it.”  Any suggestions?

Heated in Hillsborough

Dear Heated,

My one suggestion to you is, don’t worry, you just figure out exactly what you want for your birthday–what you would have liked to have received–and give it to him for his birthday! That way, you’re both happy!

Johanna

These three old ladies and their dogs were sitting on a park bench having a quiet conversation when a flasher approached from across the park.

The flasher came up to the ladies, stood right in front of them and opened his trench coat.

Gertrude immediately had a stroke.

Then Maude also had a stroke.

But Tillie, being older and more feeble, couldn’t reach that far.

For example, the trade name of Tylenol also has a generic name of Acetaminophen.  Aleve is also called Naproxen.  Amoxil is also call Amoxicillin and Advil is also called Ibuprofen. 

The FDA has been looking for a generic name for Viagra.  After careful consideration by a team of government experts, it recently announced that it has settled on the generic name of Mycoxafloppin.  Also considered were Mycoxafailin, Mydixadrupin, Mydixarizin, Dixafix, and of course, Ibepokin. 

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer.  It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one.  Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of “cocktails”, “highballs” and just a good old-fashioned “stiff drink”.  Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of: MOUNT & DO. 

There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer’s research.  This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them!

10.)  You’re guaranteed to get at least a little something in

    the sack.

  9.)  If you get tired, you can wait 10 minutes and go at it

   again.

  8.)  The uglier you look, the easier it is to get some.

  7.)  You don’t have to compliment the person who gives you

   some.

  6.)  It’s okay if the person you’re with fantasizes you’re

   someone else, because you actually are.

  5.) Forty years from now you’ll still enjoy candy.

  4.)  If you don’t like what you get, you can always go next

   door.

  3.)  It doesn’t matter if the kids hear you moaning and

   groaning.

  2.)  There’s a lot less guilt the morning after.

  1.)  You can do the whole neighborhood.

I got a pre-declined credit card in the mail.

I ordered a burger at McDonald’s and the kid behind the counter asked, “Can you afford fries with that?”

CEO’s are now playing miniature golf.

If the bank returns your check marked “Insufficient Funds” you call them and ask if they meant you or them.

Hot Wheels and Matchbox stocks are trading higher than GM.

McDonalds is selling the Quarter Ouncer.

Parents in Beverly Hills fired their nannies and learned their children’s names.

A truckload of Americans was caught sneaking into Mexico.

Dick Cheney took his stockbroker hunting.

Motel Six won’t leave the light on anymore.

The Mafia is laying off judges.

Exxon-Mobil laid off 25 Congressmen.

Congress says they are looking into this Bernard Madoff scandal.  Oh Great!! The guy who made $50 Billion disappear is being investigated by the people who made $1.5 Trillion disappear!

The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leaned out the window and asked the cowboy, “If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, will you give me a calf?”

Bud looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, “Sure, why not?”

The yuppie parks his car, whips out his iPhone, and brings up Google Earth to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.

The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg, Germany.

Within seconds, he receives an email verification that the image has been processed and the data stored.

He then prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized printer, turns to the cowboy and says, “You have exactly 1,586 cows and calves.”

Bud says, “That’s right, well, I guess you can take one of my calves”.

He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on with amusement as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.

 Then Bud says to the young man, “Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my calf?”

The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, “Okay, why not?”

“You’re a Congressman for the U.S. Government”, says Bud.

“Wow!  That’s correct,” says the yuppie, “but how did you guess that?”

“No guessing required”, answered the cowboy.  “You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked.  You used latest technical equipment trying to show me how much smarter you are than me, and you don’t know a thing about how working people make a living – or about cows, for that matter.  This is a herd of sheep…

Now give me back my dog!

Sadhvi

Happiness. I know it’s a choice.  Meyer Baba is pretty well-known for  ”Don’t worry, be happy.”  I have days where I experiment with consciously being aware of my mind’s tendency to create problems and drama and fear and worry and, instead, to choose happiness.  It is not as easy as it sounds!  Now that I am in this new phase of my life, called men-oh-pause, I have to say that I find it more challenging than ever to be happy.  So I wanted to share something that someone sent me: that taking heroin and cocaine were quite common just a few generations ago.  Hmmm, now that’s something I never considered!  I have spent my whole life trying to love myself, accept myself, and be forgiving with myself–and to not take drugs.  I no longer dye my hair;  I won’t be taking any HRT any time soon;  and I know for a fact that anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medications are not going to solve any of my “problems.”  So when I start to think that life must have been simpler way back when, well, now I know why: they had the help of cocaine and heroin.  For some reason, I feel better.  Enjoy!

  A bottle of Bayer’s heroin:  Between 1890 and 1910 heroin was sold as a non-addictive substitute for morphine.  It was also used to treat children with a strong cough.

 Metcalf’s Coca Wine:  Just one of many types of wine with cocaine that was available on the market.  Everybody used to say that it would make you happy and it would also work as a medicinal treatment.  I imagine it did! 

 Mariani Wine:  In 1875, this was the most famous Coca wine of its time.  Pope Leo XIII used to carry a bottle with him at all times.  He awarded Angelo Mariani (the producer) with a Vatican gold medal.

Maltine Coca Wine:  This “wine” was made by the Maltine Manufacturing Company of New York, and it was suggested that you take a full glass with or after every meal and children should take only half a glass. 

Throat Lozengers with Cocaine (1900):  All stage actors, singers, teachers, and preachers had to have these for a maximum performance.  They were great to “smooth” the voice.

Cocaine Toothache Drops:  These were very popular for children in 1885.  Not only did they relieve the pain, they made children happy!

Stickney and Poor’s Pure Paregoric for Babies, with Opium!:  With not only opium but 46% alcohol, I’m sure this would make those little ones sleep well.

30% of women think their ass is too fat

10% of women think their ass is too skinny

The remaining 60% say they don’t care:  they love him, he’s a good man, and they wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Dear Tech Support, 

Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed a distinct slow-down in overall system performance, particularly in the flower and jewelry applications, which operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0.

In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5, and then installed undesirable programs, such as NBA 5.0, NFL 3.0 and Golf Clubs 4.1.

Conversation 8.0 no longer runs, and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system.

Please note that I have tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail.

What can I do?

Signed,

Desperate

 ****************

 DEAR DESPERATE

First, keep in mind, Boyfriend 5.0 is an Entertainment Package, while Husband 1.0 is an operating system.

Please enter command: ithoughtyoulovedme.html and try to download Tears 6.2 and do not forget to install the Guilt 3.0 update.  If that application works as designed, Husband1.0 should then automatically run the applications Jewelry 2.0 and Flowers 3.5.

However, remember, overuse of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Grumpy Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0 or Beer 6.1.  Please note that Beer 6. 1 is a very bad program that will download the Tooting and Snoring Loudly Beta.

In addition, please do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0 program.

These are unsupported applications and will crash Husband 1.0.

In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly. You might consider buying additional software to improve memory and performance. We recommend: Cooking 3.0.

 Good Luck !

Tech Support

Their biggest fear was that there was no afterlife.

After a long life together, the husband was the first to die.

 True to his word, he made the first contact, “Ivy…Ivy!”

 ”Is that you, Richard?”

 ”Yes, I’ve come back like we agreed”.

 ”That’s wonderful!  What’s it like?”

 ”Well, I get up in the morning, and then I have sex.

Then I have breakfast and then it’s off to the golf course.

Then I have sex again, bathe in the warm sun and then have sex a couple of more times.

Then I have lunch (you’d be proud: lots of greens!) another romp, then ’round the golf course, then pretty much have sex the rest of the afternoon.

After supper, it’s back to the golf course again, and then it’s more sex until late at night.

I then usually catch some much-needed sleep and then the next day it starts all over again.”

 ”Oh Richard, you surely must be in heaven!”

 ”Not exactly…I’m a rabbit on a golf course in South Carolina!”

The wife glares at her husband and says, “Who the hell was that?”

“Oh,” replies the husband, “she’s my mistress.”

“Well, that’s the last straw,” says the wife. “I’ve had enough, I want a divorce!”

“I can understand that,” replies her husband, “but remember, if we get a divorce it will mean no more shopping trips to Paris , no more wintering in Barbados, no more summers in Tuscany, no more BMW in the garage and no more yacht club. But, the decision is yours.”

Just then, a mutual friend enters the restaurant with a gorgeous babe on his arm.

“Who’s that woman with Melvin?” asks the wife.

“That’s his mistress,” says her husband.

“Ours is prettier,” she replies.

Since entering the throes of menopause, I’ve been waking up every morning with my body covered with hair.  What’s particularly embarrassing are the hairs on my chin that resemble the snout hairs of a pig:  long, white, and tough!  Help! What can I do?

Hairy in Huntsville

Dear Hairy,

I say, let them grow, if for no other reason than the humiliation they will cause your children!  They don’t name us crones for nothing.   Actually, I find tweezers work well, especially when I’m stopped at a stoplight, listening to Barry Manilow on the radio.  I like to pluck in time to “Mandy,” with each hair coming out in the rhythm of “you came and you gave without taking…” Just be careful not to get going too fast because it can hurt when you pluck your skin!

Dear Johanna,

My daughter’s best friend’s mother recently described my house as the “messiest pigpen” she’d ever seen.  What should I do?  And this was after I had even served her cake!

Depressed in Duluth

Dear Depressed,

Next time, serve her leftovers!  I don’t know what to say.  I’m sorry she was so rude to you.  I’ll tell you what I definitely would not do and that’s clean up.  Your house is your castle.  You get to keep it looking any way you want.  I’m over 50,  and I’m on permanent strike from housework.  I never again in my entire life want to do any of the following:  iron, dust, mop or, most of all, cook!

Dear Johanna:

I’ve tried everything I know to bring back the former sexy me:  hormone replacement therapy, natural herbs, acupuncture, physical therapy, mental therapy, the fat flush, Feldenkreis, rolfing, yam cream, giving up coffee, and adding alcohol.  Last week I even tried that Explosive Jelly advertised by the obnoxious couple on TV!  But every time my husband gets interested in you know what, I still can’t help but say, “Do what now?”

Uninterested in Unadilla

Dear Unadilla,

I’m sorry, girl.   But, hey, there’s more to life than sex, right?  You can always learn to knit or play backgammon!   I actually have a solution for you:   tell your husband to try the number one aphrodisiac for women:  get him to sit across from you at a table and listen to your in-depth analysis of everything that’s on your mind that day — and he has to stay focused!  The final foreplay comes from this:  at the end of your whole discussion, he says the following words, “Wow, I’m amazed at how much fun this is.  I could talk like this all night!” If that doesn’t work, I can’t help you.

but some of us at oops50 thought this was hilarious.

And some thought it was gross.

There have been so many reactions to this ad.

Enjoy whatever reaction you have!

I recently had the feeling, after 25 years of being with my husband, that something was wrong. I asked him if he hated me, and he said yes. I asked him why and he said it’s because I am always right.  Should I be concerned?

Puzzled in Pittsburgh

Dear Puzzled,

If he hated you for any other reason, I would be concerned.  However, as I always say, you can’t be anyone but yourself.  If you are perfect, what can you do?

Dear Johanna,

Why does my husband give me a hard time every time I want to go visit my family–which, by the way, is only, at the most, 3 times a year?  He rarely comes with me because he doesn’t want to (I don’t think he even likes my family that much), and that’s fine with me, but why does he have to give me such a hard time about going?

Anxious in Atlanta

Dear Anxious,

Because it’s all about HIM.  What can I say?  I see this over and over!  Just go, girl, and have a good time.  He’ll get over it.  Bring him a present from the airport!

Dear Johanna,

My husband and I both have devices to help us sleep, since we have sleep apnea.  I have a CPAP machine, and he has a mouth guard that makes his jaw jut forward.  My only problem is this:  these things seriously kill the mood.  I mean, how romantic can you really be if you have to unhook yourself from a face mask just to kiss your husband, who has to remove his mouth guard to kiss you back?

Lonesome in Landisville

Dear Lonesome,

I’ve heard this before, from other readers.  Here are some useful suggestions:  1) don’t start up your machine (and tell him to avoid the mouth guard) until you’re absolutely sure that you’re both too tired to even want to kiss goodnight 2) if you’ve already started the machine, breathe a little more heavily and more rhythmically into it, so that he gets a message from your breaths 3) turn your face mask toward his ear and let it blow warm air into it 4) drape the tubing suggestively down the front of your body.  If none of these suggestions help, I’d say work harder on losing weight so that you can lose the machine!

My 14-year-old daughter does nothing but watch television, from the time she walks in the door from school or activities to the time she goes to bed.  What can I do?  I’m afraid she’s destroying her brain!

Frantic in Frazierville

Dear Frantic,

This is one I really would not worry about.  True, studies have shown that long exposure to television reduces a kid’s ability to concentrate and gradually, over time, reduces the number of active brain cells they have, but wouldn’t you agree that’s probably a good thing?  I mean, teenagers have too many brain cells as it is.  Just think how much less effectively your daughter could argue against every rule you throw at her or outwit you in her fiendish ways if she lost a few brain cells–especially if she couldn’t concentrate!  Plug that girl in!

Dear Johanna,

My husband says I must be losing my hearing because I did not even respond the other morning when he asked me where his wallet was.  I don’t think I’m losing my hearing, but I’m wondering.  Do you think I should have my ears checked?

Deaf in Delaware

Dear Deaf,

Sounds to me like a classic case of selective hearing.  How many times have you found his wallet for him over the years? 

Dear Johanna,

My teenaged son recently called me a “psycho b_ _ _ h”  because I accused him of things he says he “would never do.”  I was very hurt by his rudeness, but I also felt guilty because I could tell he clearly felt I had misjudged him. How can I repair this relationship?  What should I do to make it up to him?

Sad in Saint Louis

Dear Sad,

Nothing! I would take his term for you as a badge of honor. If you’re getting to him that much, you must be hitting close to home. You’re obviously doing your job as a mother.   Do not retreat!  Stay in the battle!  Keep your nose to the ground, your ears sharp.  You’re onto something!

If there is no self, whose arthritis is this?

Be here now.  Be someplace else later.

Is that so complicated?

Drink tea and nourish life; with the first sip, joy; with the second sip, satisfaction; with the third sip, peace; with the fourth, a Danish.

Wherever you go, there you are. Your luggage is another story.

Accept misfortune as a blessing. Do not wish for perfect health, or a life without problems. What would you talk about?

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single Oy.

There is no escaping karma. In a previous life, you never called, you never wrote, you never visited. And whose fault was that?

Zen is not easy.   It takes effort to attain nothingness. And then what do you have? Bupkis.

The Tao does not speak. The Tao does not blame. The Tao does not take sides. The Tao has no expectations. The Tao demands nothing of others. The Tao is not Jewish.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Forget this and attaining Enlightenment will be the least of your problems.

Let your mind be as a floating cloud. Let your stillness be as a wooded glen. And sit up straight. You’ll never meet the Buddha with such rounded shoulders.

Deep inside you are ten thousand flowers.

Each flower blossoms ten thousand times.

Each blossom has ten thousand petals. You might want to see a specialist.

Be aware of your body. Be aware of your perceptions. Keep in mind that not every physical sensation is a symptom of a terminal illness.

The Torah says, Love your neighbor as yourself. The Buddha says, There is no self. So, maybe we’re off the hook.

A pastor entered his donkey in a race, and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and it won again. The local paper read:

PASTOR’S ASS OUT FRONT

The bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.The next day, the local paper headline read:

BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR’S ASS

This was even more upsetting to the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey. The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent. The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline:

NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN

The bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10.  The next day, the paper read:

NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild.  The next day, the headlines read:

NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE

The bishop died and was buried the next day.

The moral of the story is: being concerned about public opinion can bring you grief and misery, even shorten your life. So be yourself and enjoy life. Stop worrying about everyone else’s ass: you’ll be a lot happier and live longer!  Amen.

I’m writing to ask you if you happen to know of the laws for burying dead husbands in Wyoming.  Not that my husband will be dying any time soon.  I’m just wondering.  Is it legal to bury him in the backyard of our ranch, without a tombstone?  I don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention (he’s really a shy kind of guy), and I certainly don’t want to get in trouble with the law, if you know what I mean.

Wondering in Wyoming

Dear Wondering,

I’m with you, girlfriend. I only have three words for you:  Location, Location, Location. You want to make sure that you bury him upstream from your local water source and far enough away from any main road.  And a good time for this activity might be the middle of the night.  I heard shovels are on special at Home Depot this month, but, please, whatever happens, you didn’t hear this from me.

Dear Johanna,

How many pairs–and what type–of black pants should a stylish woman of a certain age  have in her closet?  I have 10 pairs, in sizes ranging from 12 to 22, and some still have the tags on them!

Stylish in Syracuse

Dear Stylish,

My friend, Helga, says any well-dressed woman over fifty should have at least 2 pairs of black pants for every day of the week, just in case she laughs a lot.  As for the style, I always prefer elastic waistbands to allow for frequent changes in my BMI index.  However, I do keep a few inspirational side-zipped Ann Taylor black pants for those occasions when I’ve spent a rare month drinking protein shakes 5 times a day.

Dear Johanna,

I’m so embarassed about my memory now.  How do I explain to my best friend of 30 years that I forgot her husband’s name when I was giving the toast at their 25th wedding anniversary at the house of their oldest daughter (whose name escapes me at the moment)?

Forgetful in Florida

Dear Forgetful,

Sorry.  What was your question?

Drooping with Despair in Delaware

Dear Droopy,
At our age, pretty much everything has given in to gravity, unless you’re wealthy enough for multiple lifts!  But don’t waste your time being offended.  Consider your swinging breasts a metaphor for your glorious, hip, swinging self!  Celebrate yourself!  Swing those babies!  And, at your next appointment, knock the doctor in the head with the right one!

Dear Johanna:
I used to have feeling in my breasts, but since the birth of our last child, I haven’t been able to feel anything, no matter what.  At first I thought it was just something temporary—and that feeling would return over time.  But, after fifteen years, I’m worried.

Numb in Nantucket

Dear Numb:
It took you 15 years to write this letter?  How many kids did you say you have? Since you obviously have more than one, and you probably breastfed each one for a while, I’d say don’t be worried.  Join the other aging La Leche League members walking around with a pair of leather tassels dangling in front. Your numb nipples are a badge of honor. Repeat after me:  I did it for their immune systems and their jaw development!

Dear Johanna:
I wear a size 44 DD, and, over time, I have developed deep, painful ridges in my shoulders.  Any suggestions?

Hurting in Hannover

Dear Hurting:
Have you considered boob reduction?  Only kidding.  I have a friend who shares your problem, and she has found that cutting out the really ugly shoulder pads from jackets—the ones made to make you look like a quarterback for the Giants—and placing them under the straps, can help relieve the pressure.  Either that or go braless.  (Imagine the potential for embarrassing any teenaged children/nephews/nieces you might have!)

Do you have questions for Johanna? Please click here:

“Dear Madam,
Enclosed please find check in the amount of $250 for rent of your apartment.  I am not sending the amount agreed upon because when I rented the place I was under the impression that, first of all, it had never been occupied before and,  secondly, that there was plenty of heat, and thirdly, that it would be small enough to make me feel cozy and at home.  Instead, I found out that it had been previously occupied, that there wasn’t enough heat, and that it was entirely too large.”

Upon receipt of the note, the woman immediately returned the check for $250 with the following note:

“Dear Sir,
First of all, I cannot understand how you could expect a beautiful apartment to remain unoccupied indefinitely.  As for the heat, there is plenty of it, if you know how to turn it on.

Regarding the space, the apartment is indeed of regular size, but if you don’t have enough furniture to fill it, please do not blame the management.  Please send the rent in full, or we will be forced to contact your present landlady.”