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.

HELI-GOOD MAMA!

It's my understanding that Helicopter Parenting is taking quite a hit on the blogs. Some young parents are under the impression  that all that hovering and obsessing is detrimental to a child's development. Free-Ranging is the way to go, they say. I tend to agree if we're talking about chickens.

When I was a child, there was no such thing as Free-Range Parenting. In those days, it was simply referred to as "parenting." (Actually, that's not true, since turning nouns into verbs wasn't a big thing in the 50's.) My generation was raised to run wild in the streets of suburbia, doing just as we pleased as long as we were home in time for dinner. We were brought up tough..forced to write our own book reports, to suck it up when we didn't make the team, to get our hair done in our mothers' kitchen, and to devour all sorts of chemical compounds. Basically, once we were old enough to leave the whelping box, our parents moved on with their lives, leaving us to fend for ourselves at malls and slumber parties and cheerleading try-outs. It's no wonder my generation invented Helicopter Parenting!