When I go out to eat with my favorite women, the conversation always turns ugly. Before we've finished the salad course, we've already registered multiple complaints about the most repulsive thing we know. No, I'm not referring to Donald Trump. (Cheap joke, but I'm on a budget.) I'm talking about our bodies. Our disgust for our physical selves is so extreme, it requires an exorcism. We demand that the power of Botox compel our wrinkles be gone. We drown our faces in the holy waters of expensive creams and engage in the ritualistic waxing of the incubus that is body hair. And, don't get me started on the biggest, baddest demon of them all - FAT. We are so possessed by FAT that the very act of looking in a mirror or putting on a pair of jeans causes our heads to spin. FAT fills us with self-loathing, while also enticing us to judge others. We can almost hear FAT whispering that it gets it's power from two of the deadly sins: Sloth and Gluttony. Except, FAT can't talk. If it could, it would say things like, "Let me keep you warm! Is your butt comfy enough on that seat or do you need more padding?" So, if it's not FAT buzzing in our ears, telling us that it makes us ugly, undesirable, and unhealthy, who is?
Monday, September 17, 2018
Since I took the summer off from blogging, I had to fill my days with interesting pastimes, such as snooping on Zillow to find out what our new neighbors paid for their condo. One afternoon in late July, as I was tumbling down the Zillow hole marveling at the absence of Feng Shui in Midwestern homes, my heart suddenly skipped a beat. "Honey?" I shouted. And, just like that, we bought a new house.
|Don't worry, George. I've already sent you the new address.|
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
Like any middle-aged American woman worth her salt, I watched The Royal Wedding. After all, most of us were there when the ridiculously young Diana trembled her way down the aisle dressed like the Michelin Man’s illegitimate daughter. Therefore, etiquette demanded that we witness the weddings of her sons. While some of us might have overslept for Will and Kate's nuptials, that wasn't going to happen with this one. After all, she’s one of our own. Lest you think I’m referring to the new Duchess of Sussex, the preternatural beauty named Meghan Markle, let me correct you. I’m talking about the Mother of the Bride, the unflappable Doria Ragland.
|Step aside, Bey. There's a new queen in town.|
Friday, May 11, 2018
One thing about being a snowbird is that if you return to your northern home the first week in April, you are in for a world of misery. There will be snow, freezing rain, grey skies, and zero plant life. That healthy lifestyle you developed down south? The daily walks on the beach, the fresh fruit, the wholesome vegetables? Kiss all that goodbye as it's all about comfort foods and strolls from the sofa to the kitchen. This is not good for one's mental well-being, people! In fact, the entire month of April turned me into a walking Maxine cartoon. I was so grouchy from the lack of sunlight and flip-flops, that every little thing ticked me off.
|Me while Snow-birding|
|Vs. Me back in Ohio|
Friday, April 27, 2018
Well folks, I received the infamous message from Facebook that I was one of the quadzillion users whose data was compromised. Apparently, thanks to a FRIEND (cough-cough) who used an app called This Is Your Digital Life, Cambridge Analytica was able to mine any and all information from my page that was set as Public. I'm sure the techs at CA enjoyed the pictures of my dog, as well as my deep thoughts regarding wine, Real Housewives, and Ohio weather.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
Let me tell you the story of the Dunn Twins. Born in Ohio in1931 to parents of Irish descent, they thoughtfully arrived on March 16, leaving their father free to celebrate St. Paddy's Day. The first-born was named Patricia (Pat) and the second, Marguerite (Peg). Lest the birth order fool you, Peg decided from the beginning that she was the boss, and Pat decided to let her believe it. Thus began a lifelong relationship of love, devotion, and some crazy games of Checkers.
|"I've been waiting for you to move since 1967. Now get on with it!|
Monday, January 22, 2018
One problem with being a snowbird is you can't complain about the weather on social media. If you try, people up north will flag your status for "unusual cruelty." In truth, there is something a little silly about griping because it's 59 degrees (with a windchill of 44!!) when folks in your hometown are getting ice cream headaches just from opening their front door. Therefore, it's important for potential Snowbirds (aka Egglings) to know what they are getting into should they spend one of the rare cold Januarys in the Sunshine State.
|Don't forget your sunscreen!|