AMAZONIAN DIVA

Let’s shop! 

 As a diva of a certain age, it has become imperative that I stick to a budget. This is hardly my idea as I believe life should be lived and money spent! This directive came from my accountant who claims it is for my own good. "Diva, if you continue with this type of spending, you'll have to share an apartment with three other senior citizens and live on Ramen Noodles." How wonderful! Just like my college days. As long as kegs of beer are included, it will be a joy! "Sorry, Diva. If you do not stop purchasing thousands of dollars worth of items from Amazon each month, I'm afraid the only alcohol you'll be able to afford is the free wine at Communion." Oh, that would not do! I agreed to put a limit on my shopping, though I knew it would be challenging for so many reasons.

I just ordered a few last minute things before I cut back! 

LET IT SNOW!

Childhood winters were different for us Boomers. It was not just that we walked five miles through a blizzard to get to school (uphill all the way). It was not just that we had more snowstorms (thanks, climate change). It was not even that our winter wear was the absolute height of unfashionable (we were all dressed like Elmer Fudd). It had to do with Mother Nature's greatest gift to children - The Snow Day.  Gather 'round, youngsters, but wait while I grab my snowman-shaped mug filled with Cocoa de Kahlua, the official winter drink of divas of a certain age. Then, I shall regale you with tales of those unexpected  winter holidays of the 50's and 60's.

Haute couture for the 50’s child

A DIVA LOOKS BACK: MY YEAR IN REVIEW

As a diva of a certain age, the arrival of each New Year's Day feels like a personal triumph. After all, I managed, once again, to outrun the guy with the scythe and hood to ring in another year full of hope and promise. Of course, the older one gets, the hope is for a full-nights sleep, and the promise is that the social security checks keep arriving on time. Therefore, I'm not concerned with making resolutions or grand plans for 2025. Instead, I thought I'd take a trot down memory lane and examine my 2024 successes!

A CHRISTMAS CARD SAGA

As a diva of a certain age, I cling to holiday traditions like toilet paper on a shoe. Fortunately, there are many rituals which have withstood the passage of time: Christmas trees, gifts, carols, and jolly old Jello shots. However, one practice that is slowly becoming extinct happens to be the very essence of tidings of comfort and joy. I am referring to the Christmas card. The cost of stamps, on-line animated greetings, lack of time, and the rise in glitter allergies (please have your EpiPens at the ready!)  are all reasons they have gone out of favor. However, as one who would have adored the genteel snobbishness of The Golden Age, I mourn the decline of this gracious nicety.  If only we could go back to the glorious days of The Christmas Card Olympics!

SPOILER: THE ONE WHERE I RUIN YOUR FAVORITE CHRISTMAS MOVIES

Hi! I'm Twinkles The Intern! The Diva is out of commission this week, as she's suffering from the effects of The Irish Flu (3 parts Bailey's Irish Cream, 2 parts whiskey, 1 part whole milk.) She asked me to fill in for her, writing a post about the traditional holiday shows everyone loves. I had to remind her that I was raised in a cult where I was not permitted to watch television. Fortunately, at age 25, I was rescued by my Aunt Donatella and Uncle Pete. But, the only thing we watched during the holidays were repeat viewings of Moonstruck. "Even better," she shouted at me from behind the door of her She-Shed, "You can give it a fresh perspective as a first-time viewer!" So, I went to the library, rented the shows, and asked Aunt Donatella to join me. 

Twinkles the Intern

Donatella the Aunt (Ain't she just Divine?)

MIDDLE CHILDREN, THANKSGIVING SALUTES YOU

America's Big Turkey Day arrives this Thursday. (No, I'm not referring to the inauguration.)  As a diva of a certain age, I've experienced enough Thanksgivings in my lifetime to know that it is the middle child of holidays. Dare I count the ways?

“Why is my symbol a turkey?”

LET FREEDOM RING

This is my thirteenth time voting in a presidential election, and I must say it's been quite a journey. I was eighteen that first Tuesday in November of 1976 when I entered a voting booth for the first time. Almost 60 years later, I still feel a sense of pride when I cast my ballot. However, the challenging part is waiting for the final tally that might or might not be announced on election night. As a diva of a certain age, I've learned that surviving eternal election-night coverage requires a strategy. I present to you my own.