BOOK 'EM DIVA - THE FALL GUY

I love a good story of intrigue, so The Fall Guy by James Lasdun was the perfect reading choice for a cold winter's night when I could, if needed, hover under the blankets. It is a novel in the noir genre, so from the onset, the reader is left with a sense of unease. After all, it's just a story of two cousins, Matthew and Charlie, and Charlie's wife, Chloe, who are going to summer together at the wealthy cousin's home in upstate New York. What could go wrong?

BOOK 'EM, DIVA - HILLBILLY ELEGY

And now, for something extra. Weekly book reviews from The Invisible Diva. Read 'em and weep (or laugh, or think, or smile...)

With the long stretch of holiday time ahead, it's time to get in some reading. This week, I recommend Hillbilly Elegy by  J.D. Vance.

ADVICE FROM MISS PEARL CLUTCHER: CHRISTMAS EDITION

As I am busy preparing for the upcoming holidays, I asked my kind friend, the advise columnist, Pearl Clutcher, to share her social media expertise. Heed her wise words for a happier Christmas Facebook experience.

THE ELEPHANT AND THE TURKEY

Hoo boy! In case you've forgotten, what with all the election hoopla, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Now, if this were any other year, I'd be lecturing on why bringing a can of jellied cranberry sauce as your contribution to the big meal is as thoughtful as offering a sleeve of Saltine Crackers at the neighborhood potlock.

They say you can tell the age by counting the can rings on the base!

ALL HALLOWED OUT

For some reason, my small Ohio town decided to hold Trick-or-Treat night (aka: the true meaning of Halloween) on Thursday, October 27 (aka: NOT Halloween.) I have no idea what that nonsense was about, nor was I made aware of this information until after 5 p.m. on Thursday evening. I happened to catch the local news, and glanced, indifferently, at the listing of Trick-or-Treat times in the various communities. While I expected some to hold theirs over the weekend (which sucks for parents who want to go to Halloween parties, but is the best for kids who can stay up all night and eat their loot,) I never expected any adult fools would force the youngsters to go a-begging four full days ahead of the rest of the world. Therefore, I was lying on the sofa in sweatpants and an old hoodie, make-up free, hair in a high pony reserved for shampoo-free days, with nothing that resembled candy in the entire household. If the kids around here were into tricks, I was screwed.

"No candy? Redrum her! Redrum!!"

TWINKLES GIVES US THE NEWS

This blog post is brought to you by my new intern blogger, Twinkles! Normally, I wouldn't take on an intern, but her Uncle Pete made me an offer I couldn't refuse. So, PLEASE,  like and share this post as if my your life depended on it.

Twinkles the Intern

DECORATION DAYS

One of the biggest challenges of downsizing to our condo has involved holiday decorating.  Now, the husband and I have always been at odds when it comes to turning our home into The Museum of Seasonal Tchotkes, but that never stopped me in the past. Besides, our former house was large enough that it could handle the several boxes of ceramic figurines, plastic flora, and wooden fauna that represented every important milestone of each year. I decorated for Autumn, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Winter, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Spring, Summer, and the 4th of July. (August was the middle child of months - ignored.) Alas, with almost zero storage and barely enough solid surfaces (unless you count the tops of toilet tanks,) those glory days of turning my home into a three-D version of an elementary school bulletin board are gone. But, that doesn't stop me from remembering the glory days.

A few well-placed pieces can get the entire household in the spirit!

PHONE IT IN

It happened to me: My iPhone deserted me when I needed it most.  Last Thursday, around 11 a.m. DST, I tried to open Twitter Mobile and got this eerie message: NO SIM CARD DETECTED. In the upper left hand corner, where it should have announced I had full LTE internet coverage, it said, "NO SIM." What was happening? In a panic, I tapped my Facebook Page. NO SIM CARD DETECTED. Email. NO SIM CARD DETECTED. YouTube. FOR THE LAST TIME: NO SIM CARD DETECTED. It was like a scene out of The Twilight Zone.  "Noooooo!" I screamed as I sunk low in the seat of the car.  My phone was telling me that it did not detect a service provider, therefore, would no longer allow me to make calls or texts, participate in social media, check the weather, shop on-line, read the gossip about Bradgelina, or Instagram pictures of lunch. The worst thing of all? I couldn't go to my Facebook page to ask for thoughts and prayers.

IS FASHION MY PASSION?

I've never been a fashionista, always relying on Coldwater Creek and Lands End catalogs to provide me with practical options.  This means that, on any given day, I either look like I'm ready to crew a sailboat or host a tea party with the other Stepford Wives. Though I have always longed for a signature style, any attempts were futile. I fault Catholic-school uniforms and big-sister hand-me-downs for stunting my personal-style development. Nevertheless, as I am easing on down the road to my 60's, I've decided it's time for me to create my "Silver Look," if you will. Therefore, I have been scanning fashion blogs and Pinterest pages searching for the wardrobe must-haves for the post-menopausal crowd.

BANDS OF GOLD

I love the Olympics. Though I have no athletic abilities of my own (unless swimming with the aid of a pool noodle is considered a competitive sport) I enjoy watching the youth of the world strive to do their best.  When it comes to the Summer Olympics, we witness human beings running faster, jumping higher, spinning in the air longer, and throwing farther. We see young men and women move through the pool like a sailfish and dive like a kingfisher. We watch them in their warm-up suits, tearfully accepting their medals as their anthems play. But, I wouldn't be a diva, invisible or otherwise, if I didn't have my issues. So, before you can shout USA! USA! here's my list of Things I Resent About the Olympics.

"I am judging you."

TURN TO STATIC

We got rid of cable TV. I'm sharing this here so you all might start a prayer chain or incense-fueled thought-circle to get me through the worst of the withdrawal. And, yes,  Of COURSE we have Netflix and Hulu and Amazon Prime, along with a smart TV and Roku. But, those are just technological Methadone to get me off the hard stuff. People, I'm hurting. Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up in the morning, flick on the television all prepped for a good, long channel surf, only to be grounded in the sand by the ridiculous 12 stations of antenna TV? I want my MTV!

YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU AND YOUR KIDS DON'T WANT IT

Two years ago, my husband and I decided to downsize to condo life. Surprisingly, leaving behind a four bedroom home to move into a place half its size was fairly easy. Neither of us are the type to get attached to places or things, so I didn't waste a lot of time clutching the banister or hugging the walls while whispering, "I'm sorry I'm leaving you. You were the best house, ever!" In fact, I only did that for one day and only because I had Adele on repeat on my iPhone. The real challenge came when we looked around at 23 years worth of stuff and realized there was no way it was going to fit into the four closets and attic the size of a Little Tikes Playhouse that qualified as "storage" at our new place. It was all going to have to go. But, where?  For one brief moment, we thought of asking our son and all the young people in our family if they would want anything.

EXCUSE ME WHILE I KISS THE SKY

Prince died, and I turned into a middle-aged woman acting like a fool. Remember those stories of mass hysteria after the death of  Rudy Valentino? I get it. See, for my generation, Prince was our Valentino, our Elvis, our Beatles. We loved him, madly.

"Act your age, not your shoe size."

THE BEA MONOLOGUES

I don't know about the rest of you, but there are times when I can barely sit through a session of TV viewing without at least five or six moments of acute embarrassment. I'm not talking about the shows, as my shame level runs fairly high for those, particularly if a Real Housewife or two is involved. The source of my discomfort?  The commercials! People, what has become of our dignity? When I see an advertisement that deals in bodily functions or fluids, all I can do is shake my head and ask myself one simple question, "WWABS?  (What Would Aunt Bea Say?")

Bea Taylor: Our Patron Saint of Common Decency

THE STUFF

I turned fifty-eight on my most recent birthday this past November, so if you do the math, you'll know I was born in a year when everyone liked Ike. That means my wonder years were spent in the 60's and early 70's, a time when Jello was considered a salad (if you set it on a bed of lettuce and mixed in carrot shavings,) white bread was a healthy food choice (it grew the body in 8 different ways!) and people smoked cigarettes at the dinner table because they were a great diet aid. Sometimes, I feel sad that today's young people will never have the opportunity to experience life with UHF TV, Saturday morning cartoons, and Baby Soft cologne. I know that kids today think they've got it all, but let's take them on a stroll down memory lane and show off some of the amazing items that were part of the fabric of our lives when we boomers were youngsters. Come along, young people!

HALLMARK - WHEN YOU CARE ENOUGH TO SEND THE VERY BEST CHEESE FOR MY WINE

Now that Christmas season is over, I have a confession. During the weeks when I should have been building gingerbread houses and searching Pinterest for DIY gift ideas, I was overdosing on those Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. In fact, it got so bad that I got the shakes if I went for more than four hours without a Lacey Chabert or Candace Cameron sighting. Don't judge me! No one warned me that these feel-good flicks are saccharine-based and that, after the initial desire to vomit copiously, you sink into a state of euphoria. I call it The Currier and Ives Effect. It's only now when I'm in recovery that I can see that there is so much wrong - so very wrong - with the Countdown to Christmas flicks.