Feed it to the Goat

When I was in middle school a classmate brought in a goat for show -n- tell. The goat ate everything and anything in sight. Knowing this about goats I wasn’t surprised when I learned recently that goats are now eating Christmas trees. Hope Crolius, the owner of the Goat Girls farm in Amherst, Mass says her goats, “Have a beautifully designed 4 chambered digestive tract and eating tree needles is good for them.” Since more and more people are using goats to mow (eat) their lawns rather than mow it themselves this also comes as no surprise. So, Hope invites people to dispose of their trees at her farm. I imagine if goats eat trees then they can eat real wreaths also; since it’s essentially a round tree.

Our city collects trees and grinds them into mulch, but, who knows, using goats can be another option.

I wonder if a goat eats pine trees in abundance if it develops pine breath the way someone develops garlic breath. I also wonder about tinsel left on a tree. No matter how fastidious you are about removing tinsel, there’s always one strand that hides and clings to the tree. If you have a fake tree, next year when you remove it from the box you’ll see the tinsel. So my question is – if a goat eats the tinsel, will it get chewed up or will it get passed through? Something to think about.

Walking through my neighborhood today I saw both Christmas wreaths and decaying pumpkins decorating front porches, which brings me to my next question. If goats eat trees, can they eat pumpkins? That would be a good way to dispose of them. Our state zoo feeds pumpkins to the elephants – doesn’t matter the size or the freshness. I watched as zookeepers tossed pumpkins at the elephants that scooped them up with their trunk and ate the whole thing. They didn’t bother roasting the seeds. The crunching was loud enough for all spectators to hear. Now that’s a digestive tract to be proud of. My last question – if elephants eat pumpkins, are they capable of eating trees and if they eat tinsel does it get chewed up or passed through? That’s something I definitely don’t want to think about.   

 

 

Let's Eat

 

            “What are you doing,” my husband inquired. “Cleaning out the refrigerator,” I replied. “Why now, we’re not moving?” “Our daughter complained there was nothing to eat in the house, so I’m determined to prove her wrong. We have plenty of food in the house. First, I have to throw out this stir-fry pork dish.” “Why? I ate it for lunch yesterday. I loved the asparagus in it.” “What asparagus? I didn’t add asparagus.” “Yes you did, the green hard stuff.” “Oh, I don’t know what you ate that was green, but it definitely wasn’t asparagus.” “Maybe that’s why I’m not feeling well now.” “Could be, you don’t look so good, how unfortunate. I’ll put the doctor’s phone number on the fridge. You might want to give him a call.” “Thanks.”

            “I’ve got to chuck this jar of pickles.” “Why, we like pickles.” “Yeah, but the last time I ate these particular pickles I was pregnant.” “That was over twelve years ago.” “I know, aren’t you happy I haven’t craved one since.” “Here, move over, it’ll go faster if we throw them down the disposal together.”

            “Ow!  Be careful. Whatever’s in that dish just broke my toe when it fell on my foot. What is it?” “It’s my meatloaf which hardened over time.” “Harden? It’s like a brick, heavy enough to break a toe.” “You could mention it to the doctor when you call him for your stomach.”

            “I hope he can see me today.” “Two days before Christmas, I doubt it.”

            “Move out of the way, you don’t want this to drop on your broken toe.” “That’s disgusting. What is it?” “It’s wilted lettuce that’s leaking all over.” “We had lettuce in the fridge? How come I never saw it?” “It was in the vegetable drawer and you don’t look there. I brought it awhile back when we pledged to eat healthy. I planned to make a salad.” “What happened, why didn’t you?” “We went to Sam’s Club and bought a box of 2,500 ice cream sandwiches.” “Oh, those were good, do we have any left?” “Keep your hands off, the last one is mine. Next time we go to Sam’s we’ll buy two boxes.”

            “Now, why are you pouring that salad dressing down the drain?” “It expired over two years ago, probably the last time we had a salad.”

            “Here, pitch this hot fudge sauce for me.” “Why?” “It expired over five years ago, before we moved to North Carolina. So, that means you packed and transported expired food items. Any particular reason why?” “We were in a hurry?” “You’ve eaten it over the years and never got sick from it?” “Not anymore so than when I ate the pork with what I thought was asparagus.”

            “Who are you calling; the doctor to make an appointment for my foot?” “Forget your foot. I’m calling a restaurant to make dinner reservations for tonight. Our daughter was right when she said ‘There’s nothing to eat in this house’.”

 
 

Christmas vs. Birthdays

I have rolls of Christmas wrapping paper sitting in my closet. Wrapping paper, like the phone book has become obsolete. Wrapping paper is not needed for a gift card; and since I bought everybody on my list a gift card, the paper remains untouched and neglected. The ease and convenience of a gift card is appreciated by a person who doesn’t know how to wrap. Also, a person getting a gift card that they requested doesn’t have to prepare their facial reaction for a gift they may hate.

This year while shopping I’ve also done birthday shopping for family members with birthdays close to Christmas; not close enough to be overshadowed by Christmas, but close enough.

When I was little I was happy my birthday was in the summer so I didn’t have to go to school. I always felt bad for the kids who got homework on their birthday. Bummer.

Even though my two oldest kids have birthdays one week apart I throw two separate parties for them. I didn’t want one of them to grow up with issues. One week we’d have a party with family, friends and cake and a week later we’d repeat the process. It was a lot of eating cake and loosening of the belt. However, during that week we did keep up the Happy Birthday banner. Sometimes the banner would be forgotten about and hung till Mother’s Day, much like your annoying neighbor’s Christmas lights.

Now that both kids are grown and moved out we celebrate both birthdays once, whenever we can get together. Sometimes, Christmas cookies (now stale) may linger and their gift cards seem like an extension of Christmas , but being together is reason enough to celebrate; that and the fact I don’t have to wrap a gift card.                                     

Take Off Your Shoes

When guest come to your house do you make them remove their shoes? Is it rude to ask them to do so? If a host requires a guest to remove their shoes then they should provide a chair, shoe rack and socks or slippers. This is when it pays to be a surgeon – swipe the booties from work to give houseguests. Every year we do what’s called the Parade of Homes, where builders get to show their newly constructed houses. Some builders permit shoes and others don’t, but provide booties.

It can be embarrassing for the houseguest sporting the sock with a hole in it to remove their sneakers. The big toe with the nail fungus is there for all to see. A pedicure is in order when going barefoot in someone else’s house. However, a host will regret making the guest with smelly feet go sans shoes. Guest will sniff the air trying to determine what the awful, cheese like odor is. Even the guy with the smelly, stomach churning feet doesn’t know it’s him; they never know.

At a friend’s house when I was asked to leave my shoes at the door I complied happily and didn’t think anything of it till their dog that was at the park came in and put his paws everywhere. The dog that was roaming the park and had probably stepped in poop, gum, sticky soda, dried up ice cream and God knows what else had the run of the place. They didn’t give his paws so much as a swift wipe at the door. The dog is essentially coming in with his shoes on. The same people who request you remove your shoes are the same people who let their dog carry in a host of ugly stuff under their paws. It doesn’t seem fair.

In my house I wear shoes, not for comfort or fashion, but for the extra height. I’m vertically challenged. If I don’t wear my shoes I can’t reach the top shelf. My husband comes in handy for retrieving things from the top shelf. I have a step stool for getting into my bed. I used to run (to get height) and jump into bed, but I got tired of the nightly gymnastic routine. So, when I’m home I could carry around a ladder or wear shoes. I choose the shoes.  

                                                                                 

                                                                                    

 

 

The Candy Cane

This morning on my local news during a ‘Crafts for Christmas’ piece a lady was decorating a candy cane to look like a reindeer; ah, the abuse. Candy canes are in abundance this time of year.

Basically, a candy cane is a lollipop without a stick, which always gets messy. When sucking a lollipop or cane it’s inevitable that some drool will drip down. Don’t deny it! It happens! When it happens your fingers become messy and sticky. At least with a lollipop the stick makes things a little less sticky. This is why it’s not a good idea to suck on a candy cane at work; a big one can last all day.

You arrive at work sucking a candy cane to help soothe your sore throat. You suck loudly during the staff meeting and annoy your boss. When you stand to make your presentation you inadvertently place your sticky, germ riddled sucker on your co- worker’s lap-top. Your co-worker mentally scratches you off his Christmas card list and starts surfing for curses to place on you.

You’re still sucking away when a new client arrives to hear your presentation for their exciting new product. When the client shakes your hand and pats your back, you respond in kind. You pat the back of his cheap, wool coat several times. When you pull away you notice wool on your hand (tinged with red) and red stains on the back of his cheap coat. You lose the account, but get a $200 dry cleaning bill for his coat. Your boss gives you a pink slip and a candy cane and makes a mental note to return the Christmas gift he and your mother bought you. Security tosses you out the door and you land at the feet of a bell ringer who asks you for a donation. You give her your candy cane as you’ve vowed to give them up. It’s a sad story.

                                                                                  

 

 

                                                                             

The Christmas Card

My local paper had a list of tips for sending Christmas cards. Tip # 1: Select cards suitable for the recipient’s beliefs. This means if you’re sending to a couple and one half is Jewish; don’t send a Christmas card, send a holiday card. The Christmas card selection in a store is huge, but, the Chanukah selection? Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.

Tip # 2:  Make sure all names are spelled correctly. In some cases this doesn’t matter as I’ve received cards with the senders name only. Talk about an impersonal assembly line.

Tip # 3: Sends cards early so they can be displayed. I’ve gotten cards on Christmas Eve and after Christmas telling me I was an afterthought or they sent me one only because I sent them one.

Tip # 4: It’s ok to include a personal note, but keep it short as the days of the long, rambling newsletter is obsolete. Today, with Facebook everybody already knows your business, even if they don’t care or want to.

Giving Christmas cards can get out of control for just family members. When you get married and Christmas rolls around, you buy your spouse a card. If your spouse has family (most likely they will) you buy cards for their family members, now your in-laws.

Then you and spouse have a child and come Christmas you buy the baby a card even though they can’t read. You buy a card from your child to their awesome Daddy. Then you have a second baby which means more diapers and cards. Come Christmas you buy cards from one illiterate child to another. And now you buy one card for a great daughter and one for a great son. You and spouse buy cards for great daughter and son to give to their mommy or daddy. You buy cards for Wonderful grandma and grandpa from their wonderful grandchildren. Then you buy cards from your children to their Special Uncle which reads, ‘This card is to tell you how much you mean;’ of course they need the card to tell him because they can’t speak! They can’t speak and they can’t write!

After Christmas you buy and send cards to all who gave gifts. You get a card for the wonderful, special, awesome… and the insanity continues.

My Favorite Things

I just heard the song ‘My Favorite Things’ on the radio. When did this song become a Christmas song and why? I love the Sound of Music and the songs in it, but neither the movie nor the songs scream Christmas. The movie was set in Salzburg, Austria at the start of WWII; nothing in it lends itself to the holiday season. There were no lights, snowmen, reindeer or even a sprig of mistletoe to be seen. To associate this song with Christmas is really s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g.

I think if you want a song that’s perfect (and also stretching) for the holiday season it should be Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive. This song was about surviving a breakup, but come the holidays it could symbolize surviving time with family. Think about it, once a year you get together with family you choose purposely to see once a year and spend an extended amount of time with them. An extended visit is more than 3 days. 3 days gives you time to catch up, after that, catch up on FB. If you have guests that treat your house like a luxury hotel with you as the maid, after 3 days give them a bill equal to the rates of a local luxury hotel and you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how quickly they’ll leave. Here’s your coat. What’s your hurry?

Christmas will come and go and you would have survived shopping, baking, eating, parties, relatives with kids, relatives who ask when you’re going to have kids, relatives who drink too much and relatives who try stuffing the tree up the chimney because they drink too much. You will sing I Will Survive till they leave and when you find the wallet Uncle Sam (who spilt red wine on your white couch) left behind, you’ll have reason to start singing ‘My Favorite Things.’

Ushering in the Holidays

My holiday season was ushered in with our local Christmas parade. This year The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade made me feel old because when I read the list of performers in the parade I didn’t know half of them.

One year when I was walking to the starting point to join the spectators watch our local parade, a dog comes running down the street and starts chasing me. I ran from it for fear I’d be the lead story on the nightly news; ‘local woman bit by dog at parade.’ As I’m running with the dog nipping at my heels down the parade route I see some people smiling and waving (big at parades) at me. (The dog was also smiling and showing me all his teeth.) It dawns on me that these people think I’m part of the parade. These people thought watching a lady running from a dog while screaming, “Help,” was entertaining. Finally one spectator yelled “Hey, she has no candy. She’s not part of the parade.” He realized I was not the entertainment and jumped in to help me.  He distracted the dog with candy. I would have thrown candy at the dog if I had any; better he eat candy than my leg.  

Candy is big at parades. I think kids love parades because they get candy and unlike Halloween they don’t have to dress up and beg for it. They stand on the sidelines and people throw candy at them. If they’re lucky it’s the soft candy that doesn’t break when it hits the ground. This year a chocolate covered marshmallow Santa landed at my feet. I unwrapped it and bit off Santa’s head. YUM! I was munching on Santa’s belt, enjoying the parade when someone showed up with two, huge dogs. One approached and sniffed me and Santa. Oh no. Did he want a bite of me or Santa? I put Santa in my pocket and went home. There was no way, no how I was going to be the entertainment for this year’s parade. Not again.

School Closings and Delays

Wintertime is the time for school closings and delays. The weatherman predicted snow overnight. DOT crews were reported to be preparing, which makes me laugh because what they really mean is they pray (really hard) that it doesn’t snow. Where I live everything shuts down when it snows. Even the plows get confused and stay huddled inside. One snowflake and everything comes to a grinding halt.

We got our ‘school is delayed 2 hours’ phone call at 5:30 a.m. It boggles the mind to think they wake us up to let us know school’s delayed and we can sleep an extra two hours, but I never do fall back to sleep. I want to wrap my hands around the genius who invented this program.

Remember the olden days when we found out the distressing news by reading the crawl at the bottom of the television screen. As I read the list of closings I’d get more and more anxious as it got to my daughter’s school. I would cross my fingers and all body parts that could be crossed for good measure. I would make a pact with God if her school was open I would never again use the Lord’s name in vain. Her school popped up on the screen – CLOSED. ### Dammit! I renewed my pact.

One night my husband and I were watching TV when a ticker popped up; alerting us my daughter’s school was closed due to inclement weather. Infuriated, I ranted and raved about the lunatics who would close the schools because it snowed in Alaska. This was safety overkill. This was ### Dammit! My husband told me we were watching a show we recorded back in January, six months earlier. Our daughter was on summer vacation. Just the thought had me frazzled and renewing my pact.

Then there was the morning my daughter waited for the bus for two hours. After two hours she came inside and asked, “Are you sure there’s school today? I’ve been waiting two hours.” Turned out the show I was watching was another old, recorded show and instead of it being 75 and sunny, it was 12 degrees and snowing. School closed! # # # Dammit!

I renewed my pact with God and my daughter made her first one. I don’t know where she learned such language.

 

 

Turkey Day

Butterball, The nation’s largest turkey producer, has announced there’s a shortage of fresh, large whole turkeys – 16 lbs. and greater this year. The company explained that they are ‘continuing to evaluate why they experienced a decline in weight gain on some of their farms.’ I’ve got a theory – maybe, just maybe, the turkeys smarten up and purposely didn’t eat much to gain weight so they could be killed and eaten by someone on Thanksgiving. I bet Tommy turkey was hip to the farmer who told him he would return his mother after he took her to be weighed. Tommy lost friends and family who went to weigh in and never returned. So, this year when Tommy reached 15 pounds, he cut calories. He cut carbs and the mayo from his ham (never turkey) sandwich. He spread the word and soon all turkeys were pecking at their food rather than gobbling it up. (Pun intended) This is my theory.

I eat and enjoy turkey on thanksgiving, but I enjoy the leftovers made from it better. What I like as much as the dinner is apple pie for dessert. Apple pie is as traditional as the turkey. I eat my pie heated, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, on the side. I slide my homemade, store bought pie, straight from the box, into the oven to heat. I’ll be adventurous and eat plain apple pie, Dutch apple or apple crumb, with the vanilla ice cream. It has to vanilla and not some weird flavor like orange macadamia nut to go with the pie. This is not the time for experimentation. It’s time for tradition.

So, this Thanksgiving when you’re eating hot dogs (because of the turkey shortage) be grateful for the apple pie. Everybody loves apple pie. Unfortunately, so did Tommy’s mother, which is why she weighed twenty pounds and wound up stuffed with apple sausage stuffing as someone’s holiday feast.

The Other Woman

There’s a website called ShesAHomewrecker.com. The site exposes your husband or boyfriend’s alleged mistresses with names, pictures and torrid details. One can publicly flog the other woman and shame your husband at the same time. This modern day form of revenge is what the ‘Scarlet 

A’ was in the olden days.

This site places blame on the other woman, not the man. Why isn’t the man held accountable? Didn’t the man participate willingly or did he have a gun to his head? He wouldn’t be there if he didn’t want to be. It was your husband who pledged to love you, not the other woman. She may not even have known about you.

Let’s face it, when a married man engages in an affair he may not tell his lover he’s married. If the guy’s lying to and cheating on his wife, you can bet he’ll lie to the mistress. It’s not like the guy has a high moral standard. Get real.

This site should be used to extract revenge on the husband as well as the other woman. Post embarrassing information about your husband the mistress doesn’t know. Give torrid details about the man you both love. Let the mistress know the following: his idea of musical entertainment is burping and farting in sync. His idea of cooking a gourmet meal is a bowl of Fruit Loops. His idea of housework is plugging in the vacuum for you. His idea of the perfect “As Seen on TV” Christmas gift is one that slices and dices.

Maybe, if the mistress sees the real man and not the man who’s wooing her, she’d throw him back. Maybe, the wife and mistress could form a support group and create a website –‘Women Who Were Duped.’ What a great way to get revenge on the one man who duped two women.

Eating for Two

An article in my local newspaper reported marriage increases obesity rates and married people gain more weight than single people. I was not surprised to read this. The sharing of food as a gesture of love begins on the wedding day. No sooner does the bride and groom say, “I do,” that they say, “Let’s eat cake.”

A married couple becomes equal to a pregnant woman who eats for two. When you’re married, come holiday time, if the in-laws live close, time will be spent visiting and eating at two houses. So, even though you’re one person, you will eat two holiday dinners complete with turkey, cranberry sauce, grandma’s dry stuffing, pie and an antacid. This food fest accompanied with indigestion is now your two meal holiday reality. Loosen that belt

But, it’s when a couple becomes parents that it’s easy to pack on the pounds. If you’re baby refuses to eat baby food you make a show of eating some and exclaiming, “Yum,” in hopes of getting them to eat it. All that happens is you’ve eaten your baby’s food in addition to your food. After a year you’ve gained ten pounds. Since you don’t want to toss food left on the tray by your toddler, you eat it. After a year of eating two dinners you’ve gained another ten pounds.

For your child’s birthday you eat the homemade cake and the store bought cake (in case the homemade one was a flop.) You rationalize the extra pounds of baby weight even though your baby is twelve by telling yourself, “He’ll always be my baby.” Has anyone ever conducted a survey on how children contribute to parental weight gain? Just a thought.

Anyway, Halloween is another holiday where it’s easy to pack on the pounds. A parent can indulge in their kids’ candy well into the holiday season which brings with it the vicious cycle of the two meal holiday that started the day you said, “I do.”

A Roving Eye

An article in USA Today reported a new study that outfitted men with an eye-tracking system (which measures eye movement) found men looked more at women’s bodies than their faces. No. Really? Did we really need a study to tell us what we already knew? Why don’t we do a study on ways we waste money doing stupid studies?

Girls wouldn’t sext and instagram their body parts for the entire world to see if they didn’t get attention. Girls never send pictures of their teeth. You know why? Nobody would care.

Kim Kardashian recently instagramed her bootie and even if you’re not a fan, you looked; you couldn’t help it. When something that massive takes up an entire screen, you notice. Thank goodness it wasn’t in IMAX.

 Anthony Weiner texted pictures of his wiener to women. Did he choose his wiener to conduct a play-on-words with his last name? I don’t know. I’m not sure. All I know is that photo should never grace the cover of a Christmas card.

Do men go to strip bars for the stimulating conversation? Is there a man alive who could tell you the color of Bambi’s eyes? Would men notice or care if a ‘headless stripper’ performed?   They would care if the stripper started to put clothes on.

Sunglasses were invented so men could hide their ogling. It dates back to the caveman. At first the caveman was happy to be out hunting deer and ogling women while his wife stayed home and swept the cave’s dirt floor. But when his wife got bored staying home and reading the walls she insisted she go along on his camping trips. The husband realized his wife would catch on quickly that he was checking out more than deer for dinner. This is when the idea for sunglasses was born. Every man passed down to his son his club and the eternal hope that some male would invent sunglasses.

A man on the beach wears sunglasses not so much for protection from the sun, but rather protection from physical harm should his wife see him looking at another woman. How much do you wanna bet the caveman’s wife used his club to hit him in the wiener while he slept?

Making an Entrance

Gliding down a long, winding staircase with your gown and luminous hair flowing behind you is the way to make an elegant entrance. Some people like to make an entrance and that’s the way to make a memorable one.                                               

The most memorable entrance I ever made was back in college. I entered the student union building, slipped on a puddle of water, slid across the floor and fell on my butt. I don’t think the laughing spectators noticed my cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as I gathered my books which had flown in all directions. Elegant is not the word to describe that entrance.

Recently, I was in a meeting where two ladies made two different entrances, each disruptive in its own way.

The first lady entered and realizing the meeting was in session tried to be quiet as she settled in. She didn’t succeed. A herd of elephants would have been quieter. She bumped into chairs. She knocked into and over things with her umbrella. She blew (loudly) her nose. She knocked over her water. She didn’t like her chair, asked the person next to her to switch and soon had us all playing musical chairs. Finally, ten minutes later, when she was comfortable, the meeting resumed and lady number two entered.

Lady number two didn’t notice or care she interrupted a conversation in progress when she swung open the door. With all eyes upon her she took center stage and ran down a list for being late. She told us about her day, week, year and life up till that moment. She must have confused us with a support group, thinking we cared about her problems. We didn’t! Finally, when her impromptu therapy session was over, she announced, “Anyway, I’m here.” As soon as she settled in her seat the group leader announced, “Time’s up.”

On our way out the door some (me) of us may have trampled ladies 1 and 2; I’m not sure. I’m not sure how to make an elegant entrance, but I sure know how to make a quick exit.

 

Lift and Separate

An article in USA Today reported that Playtex has come out with a more contemporary line of bras in hopes of gaining younger consumers and increasing sales.

Recently, I went bra shopping and was surprised at the latest styles. One style was memory foam. Is this really a good idea for the woman who has to lift her breast up off the floor before she puts on her bra? No woman wants to put on a bra and have it fall to the floor for her to step into. A bra should lift them up so no woman walks around hunched over all day. It’s bad for the back.

I have a memory foam mattress which is great as it draws the invisible line down the beds center, keeping hubby on his side of the bed. Memory foam for a bed is good. Memory foam for a bra is not good.

One bra had a tag which read ‘Funny Shapes Fixed.’ Would advertisers would be so cruel and heartless to put such a label on a package of men’s underwear?

There was a mother and daughter in the fitting room next to me and the daughter was trying on bras. I know because I heard the mother using phrases like, “It won’t give much support,” and “You need more coverage.” The girl and I emerged from the dressing room at the same time. I looked at her and thought… she’s young. Memory foam bras were made for her.

I paid for my bras and the physical support guaranteed and then went home to get emotional support from my husband. Those memory foam bras can leave an emotional scar.

Going Dutch

Times are a changing.’ In a recent study presented at the American Sociological Associations annual meeting found that 84% of men and 58% of women said men pay for most dating expenses and a lot of women like it this way. If you’re a woman – why wouldn’t you like it? It found people in their 20’s were the most likely to embrace an equal partnership when dating, meaning girls as well as boys will pick up the tab.

The first time I went to lunch with my husband (during college) it was to a fine establishment where the question of the day is, “You want fries with that?” We placed our order and then he searched his wallet and pockets for money. When he came up short, he turned toward me and asked, “Um, you got any money?” Together we had enough money for the burger, no fries. I paid, and despite claims my meal did not make me happy.

If you’re in a serious relationship with plans to marry, then there’s nothing wrong with a woman going Dutch or picking up the tab.

Today, some women are contributing toward their engagement ring. Big mistake. If a woman goes Dutch on the ring it’s not a gift, but rather an investment.

Say a couple buys a ring, gets married and then divorced; if the ring cost $10,000 you can bet the couple will wind up fighting over it in court. Something so beautiful that once signified love and hope now signifies a good chunk of money. No parent ever passes down the ring of a failed marriage to their child and says, “It didn’t work for us, but, hey maybe it will for you. Good luck.”

Marriage is hard enough without going into it with such low expectations. My question is – now that men expect women to contribute to the ring, will they reciprocate and contribute to the wedding? Is this something women should expect?

It's Good for You

Doctors have found a cure for Clostridium difficile (C-diff) which is an infection causing nausea, diarrhea and cramping; it’s - “fecal transplants.” Yes, you read correctly. Fecal transplants puts healthy people’s poop into pills. Donor stool (usually from a relative) is processed in a lab and there’s no stool left by the time the patient takes it. The pills contents are released after it makes it way past the stomach.

How’d you like to be the guy who has this job? How do you get this job? Is it listed in the want ads of your local newspaper? Will young children dream of becoming a poop collector? Once the poop is collected it’s taken to a lab to be processed. The foods removed and the bacteria is extracted and cleaned.

Being a parent would be enough to prepare one for this job. Nothing or no one can prepare parents for their baby’s first blowout. One minute you’re looking at your cute, laughing baby in their outfit and the next you’re wearing rubber gloves, a mask and protective goggles while changing the diarrhea covered outfit.  You’re no longer laughing with your baby.

As parents you learn to control your breathing so you don’t inhale during the diaper changing process. As parents you’ll also witness certain foods (like corn) will decorate the diaper landscape. And as a parent you’ll learn the fine art of diaper fishing. Diaper fishing is when you quickly and deftly fish out items your toddler swallowed such as: coins, marbles and jewelry. I’d be curious to know, if the poop collector fines a diamond ring, if he keeps it. That would make a pretty nice Christmas bonus. I think this job has reality show material written all over it.

The other day, in a deli I ordered a drink to go. As I’m waiting, a male employee emerges from the bathroom. Goes behind the counter, take an unwrapped straw and stick it in my drink. I’m screaming out loud, at the top of my lungs, silently in my head – NO. This man just came from the bathroom. I don’t know if he washed his hands, but I do know I wouldn’t wager any bets. I don’t need his hands or his poop in my drink. I do know if I need poop, by golly, I’ll take a pill.

Pastrami on Pretzel

An article in USA Today reported that so many restaurants have adapted the pretzel bun, making it the fastest-growing sandwich bread. Since pretzels don’t contain the fat of other breads and pastries, this makes perfect sense.

Why, restaurants can serve pretzels to fit their nationality. An Italian restaurant can serve mozzarella cheese pretzel. A Mexican restaurant can serve salsa pretzel. And a Chinese restaurant can serve wonton pretzel.

No matter what flavor the pretzel is, for me, it must be hot. I like a hot, crispy pretzel. Once the pretzel cools and loses its crunch, I lose my appetite. I can’t stand holding a pretzel that feels like a wet noodle. When I bite into a pretzel I want the sensation of biting into a potato chip. I like my pizza crust the same way. It’s only a matter of time till we have pretzel crust.

With pretzel bread you’ll no longer have to decide what bread to have your chicken salad on. The choices are endless: white, wheat, French, Italian, whole grain, fresh or stale and rye (seeds or no seeds.) Sometimes it can take longer to choose your bread than to eat your sandwich.

Pretzel bread is also a timesaver as there’s no crust to cut off. Parents will no longer have to cut the crust off their kid’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I will no longer have to cut the crust off my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The pretzel bread maybe the greatest invention since sliced bread (pun intended.)

 

Most important Meal of the Day

To the horror of nutritional experts the Halloween-theme cereals have hit store shelves. An article in USA Today reported these experts take issue with these cereals as they have too much sugar, dyes and not enough fiber. Why if my husband didn’t eat a brightly colored, high sugar, low fiber cereal, he wouldn’t consider it breakfast. The man likes cereal. Our kitchen pantry holds twelve open cereal boxes; and for a family of three, that’s a lot of cereal. Sometimes staleness sets in before a box can be finished. He gets happy eating Count Chocula as he regards the chocolate flavored milk a perk.

I’ve never really been a breakfast person, probably because I’m not a morning person. Growing up my kids knew where the cereal was and where the toaster was if needed to toast a waffle or Pop Tart. They also knew if they wanted a hot, healthy breakfast they had to do one of two things: go to a friend’s house or wait for their father to cook one on the weekend.

On a Sunday morning a home cooked breakfast could include eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, hash browns, toast and waffles. The first time my husband made me breakfast I was stunned to learn people eat homemade waffles rather than frozen; and there was a contraption to make them. Who knew? Wonders never cease.

Growing up eating breakfast out was a big deal as it symbolized vacation. One week out of the year, while on vacation we would eat breakfast out. I guess since it was a rare treat I came to view it as special. It’s funny how I never minded waking up early for breakfast while on vacation.

When we went on vacation with our kids sometimes we would bring along the little travel size cereal boxes. Since there was something for everyone, everyone was happy. The one thing that could have made my husband happier is if there was a box of Count Chocula.

Delay your Gratification

An article in USA Today stated that starting this year things will be different for Cookie Monster on Sesame Street as he will grapple with self-restraint. In the past when he wanted a cookie he got one, now he’ll learn about delaying gratification as he won’t always get one. In the new season Cookie will struggle repeatedly to resist temptation.

When I was a kid I thought delaying gratification was to eat the frosting on a piece of cake last as it was my favorite part. I did this until one day an aunt saw me separating the frosting from the cake and casually remarked, “You could die before you finish your cake and you wouldn’t have eaten the frosting. Eat it first; don’t leave the best for last.” Sure, she may not have been my most optimistic aunt, but she became my favorite. She was suddenly bathed in a golden glow, radiating her omniscient knowledge. Only now looking back, I think if I died while eating cake I would be upset because – I died while eating cake. That’s no way to kick the bucket.

Recently while looking at a box of Junior Mints and trying to resist the temptation I thought of Cookie Monster. I tried to delay gratification by telling myself I didn’t need chocolate; but when it comes to women and chocolate the words and need and want are synonymous. I tried to ignore the scent wafting up my nose and tantalizing my taste buds. But, when I envisioned my favorite, somewhat pessimistic aunt, I ripped open the box and reached in to pull out a mint to satisfy my craving.

I felt a lump of mints stuck together and clinging to the box. I did the only logical thing a woman desperate for chocolate would do – I cut the box open with scissors and start clawing frantically at the mints. In my haste for instant gratification I knocked some mints on the kitchen floor. My hopes plummeted as I looked at the mints and knew I couldn’t possibly use the 5 second rule – not for my kitchen floor. I couldn’t take the chance. It wouldn’t be smart. I dumped them. Yes, food on my kitchen floor will kill anyone’s appetite and need for any gratification. I’m sure my aunt would agree.

The Flying Nanny

An article in USA Today reported that Etihad Airways has come up with a new and unusual amenity: a Flying Nanny. The nanny is available for all travelers on long-haul flights regardless of which class they’re flying on. The Flying Nanny will be dressed in a bright orange apron, making them easy to spot. The nanny is the airlines way of making their passengers journey as relaxing and comfortable as possible. The fact that this service is free makes it very attractive.

Flying Nannies will get training in child psychology and sociology. The nannies will keep children entertained, serve meals and help crewmembers interact with families.

Having a Flying Nanny is like having a modern day Mary Poppins, just switch out the umbrella for a plane. Maybe the modern day nanny will also break out in song. And maybe, like Mary Poppins the Flying Nanny will also have a never ending bag from which she can pull toys to amuse youngsters. Every kid wants a Mary Poppins as opposed to a Nanny McPhee.

Nanny McPhee is like a drill sergeant. There’s no singing. There’s no flying. There’s no spoonful’s of sugar. There’s just a nanny whose middle name is discipline. I doubt she’ll let you connect the warts on her face. She’s the type to throw the kid out the plane window for misbehaving.

Whether you’re Ms. Poppins or Ms. McPhee if you’re holding a crying baby nobody’s gonna want to sit by you. In this situation you’ll need a crash course in dealing with people’s dirty looks and language. You’ll learn to deal with the rude and belligerent people who demand you quiet the baby…you wouldn’t think the parents would complain. You’ll learn Mary Poppins had a whiskey flask at the bottom of her bag which accounted for her enduring happiness. There had to be a valid reason the woman stayed so chipper. Wakeup people. You’ll learn to follow her example.   

The Season

Labor Day has come and gone leaving us with the question – is it ok to still wear white? Some like me will bid farewell to their white sandals till next year. Others who are no slaves to fashion, like the men who wear socks with sandals, will continue to wear white. It’s sort of like wearing an Easter hat after Easter. It’s like wearing a Christmas sweater after Christmas. You can do it, but the reindeer‘s antlers will start to sag come July.

I’m not so concerned about whether or not people wear white after Labor Day as I am about stores that display Christmas decorations around Labor Day. I went into Garden Ridge the other day and all the Christmas trees and decorations were up. Come on!

Remember when the season didn’t kick in until Thanksgiving ended and the last of the turkey leftovers was eaten. Christmas got the green light when Santa made his appearance at the Macy’s parade, ushering one holiday out and the next one in.

Now that Christmas is commercially celebrated months in advance it loses some of its magic. It takes the short term merriment of the holiday and stretches it to the point that the meaning and reason of the holiday can be forgotten. Why, it could make those who celebrate Christmas think it’s all about commercialism. Let’s hope not.

Erma Bombeck

I was fortunate to have one of my stories published on the Erma Bombeck website. You may read it here

Major Embarrassment

Yesterday I was in a store walking behind a lady whose underwear showed through her skirt. Her bright pink underwear came through loud and clear under her cream colored skirt. Not sure what to do I debated with myself. Should I tell her? Should I remain silent? I didn’t want to tell her and have her get angry or worse… start crying due to embarrassment. Maybe she knew and wanted her panties to show. Maybe bright colored underwear is the only gift her cheap husband gives her and she wants to show it off. Maybe she’s a fashion designer and is testing what she hopes to become a new trend.

We’ve all been in awkward, social situations where were not sure what to do especially if you don’t know the person that well. These situations are awkward and embarrassing for both parties involved.

When you see a stranger walking with toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe, do you say anything? If you’re having lunch with your new boss, do you point out the spinach stuck between his teeth; or do you try to ignore it? Do you run your tongue over your teeth, only to realize you’ve given him the wrong idea? Do you tell a nurse who’s about to stab you with a needle she has lipstick on her teeth? Do you tell a man his fly is open and risk him wondering why you were looking THERE? Do you tell someone with a booger hanging from their nose to blow?

I had an embarrassing moment in elementary school. During class I went to the bathroom. When I returned to class I had to walk across the room, in front of all my classmates, back to my seat. I heard giggling and muffled laughter and saw the nun looking at me and praying (Catholic school.) My classmates were laughing at my skirt stuffed inside my underwear. Now, thinking back, I’m grateful I wasn’t wearing bright underwear under a cream colored skirt. Now, that would have been a major embarrassment.

 

Tips Appreciated

In June, Sushi Yasuda, a Japanese restaurant in New York City abandoned tipping and raised menu prices 15% to cover wait staff salaries.

More American restaurants are following the European example of no tipping. It’ll be better for employees if restaurants raise prices to give them a living wage with benefits along with vacation and paid sick days. My question is - what about the customer?

No tipping is better for customers who need a calculator to figure out the tip as they’ll be able to put it away.

I’m wondering if there’s no incentive of a tip if service drop off. I can’t help thinking that it will to some degree. Will a sit down meal in a family restaurant become equated with a fast-food meal… you’ll get your food quick. You’ll get your food hot. You just won’t get your food from a friendly, efficient server.

A no tipping policy is better for servers who work at a restaurant where the wait staff pools their tips, each getting the same amount. This practice is fair only if each server works equally hard; if not then it’s not fair. My husband and I go to this restaurant where one particular waitress is the best, hardest worker I’ve ever seen. If I was her I would be pissed pooling my hard earned tips with fellow coworkers who don’t have the drive and work as hard. Why should her coworkers profit from her hard work? With no incentive to work hard, the only thing slackers might do is slack harder.

I had a part-time job as a waitress during college. When I worked the morning shift I and the other servers were happy when a certain couple came in and sat at their station. Why? Because this couple ordered coffee and left a generous tip, doubling the price of the coffee. All they wanted was coffee and to be left alone to hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes. We speculated they were having an affair. I mean how many married couples hold hands and are civil to one another at eight in the morning? Nobody I know. My husband and I have learned to decipher one another’s growls. I’ve always felt before 9a.m. language was highly overrated. I was never sure if the couple tipped well because they loved the coffee (which I seriously doubt,) paying for the privacy they requested or dishing out gobs of money to squelch feelings of guilt. I didn’t know or cared.  Just know I was glad I didn’t have to pool my tips with anyone.

A Great Deal

 The snapshot in USA Today was – would you buy from a store knowing a better deal existed elsewhere if you had a positive prior experience? 70% answered yes. 30 % answered no.

At the grocery store we shop at there’s a nice, friendly cashier who’s not necessarily the fastest cashier. And even though the other cashiers can ring us up in less time we always choose her. Why? Because she’s friendly! She talks to her customers. She doesn’t give the impression she’s doing you a favor by doing her job. The interaction between me and her makes my shopping experience a positive one.  

I know some people don’t care about positive experiences; they care about getting the best deal. This is why the ‘tax-free weekend’ was invented. During this weekend parents battle the crowds to buy back- to- school supplies for their kids. Parents contend with the rude, defiant and scary… their own kids and others. Parents contend with the surly and obnoxious who step on their toes without so much as an “I’m sorry,” to step into a pair of brand new sneakers. Parents contend with the pushy and belligerent who shove them aside to grab the last character backpack. Parents make allowances for these people and the cashier that greets them with the ‘Get me out of here,’ haunting look in her eyes.

The only difference between ‘tax-free’ weekend and ‘Black Friday’ is the cashier doesn’t automatically and insincerely wish you ‘Happy Holidays.’

Since I work from home and hate crowds I do not succumb to great deal promotions such as tax-free weekends. I wait for a coupon and then a sale. I shop when the stores are empty (no more than 5 people.) and the only person whining, “I wanna go home,” is my husband whom I dragged along. With great deals come great sacrifices.

No Children Allowed

LaFisheria, a Mexican restaurant in Houston, Texas has installed a “no children under 8 after 7p.m.” policy. The owner issued the policy after numerous complaints from patrons bothered by loud children. If it’s a family restaurant this might not be a smart business move, but if it’s a fancy restaurant then it’s probably a smart move. Customers don’t want a headache along with their sky-high bill.

My community Y has a “no children under 16 allowed unless accompanied by an adult” policy for the fitness room.  Some couples want children at their wedding and some do not. I’ve been to movie theaters where the children behaved better than the parents who were inconsiderate to those around them by texting constantly on their phone.

I’ve been to restaurants where parents allowed their kids to walk on the seats. Was it wrong for the kids to do? Yes, but to me the fault lies with the parent for failing to stop such behavior.

Sometimes parents have to accept responsibility and teach by example. If your child runs around a restaurant – take them outside. If your child sticks his finger in other people’s food – take them outside. If your child screams and cries – take them outside, unless, of course you’re on a plane. In that case sit tight and offer fellow passengers earplugs.

Your child won’t learn acceptable social behavior, unless you teach them.

I was in a restaurant last night where a young boy was banging on the windows and smacking the lights. He seemed to relish in the attention it brought him. He continued until his mother (who was ignoring him because she was busy talking to others at the table) finally looked and stopped him. Somehow I think if it was her home she would have nipped his behavior in the bud much sooner.

Children are only as good as their role models and can’t be blamed all the time for bad behavior if parents don’t step up to the plate and do what parents should do – parent.

Pet Friendly

It was written in USA Today that the San Diego International Airport has installed a “Pet Relief’ station – the nation’s first airport pooch potty.

The 75-square foot space includes fake grass, a fire hydrant, deodorizes, a hand – washing station and complimentary baggies.

No matter how many deodorizes they’ll have, it won’t be enough. After a while the animal scent will overpower the pine scented deodorizer, especially if all pet owners don’t pick up after their dog. “Doggie Stations, with free bags and a waste receptacle, line the walking paths in my neighborhood and yet not everyone takes advantage.  Instead I see owners allowing their dog to stop at someone’s mailbox and leave a present the way a mailman delivers a package.

Will there be a separate pooch potty for male and female dogs? I fear the line for the ladies pooch potty will be like the line at the ladies room in the theater – long and slow. Will two female pooches use the potty together or will one hold the curtain (if it’s located in the middle of the airport) granting the other privacy? Even animals can be shy. If there’s no privacy curtain or separate sex pooch potties then things may get interesting. A boy dog and girl dog who are attracted to each other and sharing the same space may forget where they are and create quite a show for travelers. That’s a video sure to go viral.

This summer I was in a New York airport and had to use the restroom. The nicest thing I can say about it is, “The place was a cesspool.” I felt like burning my outfit when done. Had my phone fallen in the toilet I would have left it there. If a million dollars floated at the bottom of the bowl, I would have left it there. In the future if I travel through the same airport and see a “Pet Relief” station I might push aside the dog on it and use it myself. It has to be cleaner than the Ladies room.

Appropriate Dress Required

The jury duty summons I received read – appropriate attire required. Not everybody was dressed appropriately. Some were sleeveless with tattoos showing… and those were the women.

Your Sunday best,’ is no longer your best; instead of a suit and tie, it’s shorts and flip-flops.

Some restaurants post signs in their front window, ‘No shirt, no shoes, no service.’ I imagine this wasn’t much of a problem until recently when men started going shirtless. I don’t know who started it. I don’t know when it started. All I know is that men running around shirtless are being touted as a ‘curious trend.’ The cover of The Daily News had a picture of Orlando Bloom walking the streets of New York shirtless.  

When I was in New York this summer I saw my share of shirtless men. It’s not that I wasn’t appreciative, but my question is – why? Do they think it’s sexy? To see an out-of-shape guy with shorts around his knees, underwear showing and flip-flops is not sexy. Maybe they’re too tired to put a shirt on, I mean walking around all day trying to look cool and oblivious to women ogling them takes a lot of energy; energy they no longer have to finish dressing.

Even if you have a great build, even if women gawk at you the way men have done to women since Adam said to Eve, “Forget the fig leaf,” my question is – why? In order for it to be considered a fashion statement, doesn’t one have to wear something to be considered fashion? Are they trying to make women feel bad with the silent, yet visual commentary which screams, ‘Ha, ha, men can go shirtless, but women can’t?’ Is this being disrespectful to women?

When I asked my husband what he thought of men permitted to go shirtless, but women prohibited from going topless, he replied with a smile, “Oh, I’m all for women going topless in public.” I think if women can’t do it, then men shouldn’t be allowed to do it. If you’re on a beach and shirtless, it’s fine. If you’re in bed and shirtless, it’s fine. Otherwise… why?

 

Chicken Fashion

Just when you think you’ve heard it all along comes something else. I read two online companies: Pampered Poultry and Hen Holster make washable cloth diapers for chickens. The idea was hatched (not my word) to help pet owners keep or care for their pets indoors or while transporting them to poultry shows. That’s all well and good, but how does one go about diapering a chicken?

Chickens are hard to catch; anybody who’s seen the movie Rocky can attest to that. It was a workout for him to catch the chicken his trainer Mickey used as a device to get him to be quick as lightning. He had to be quick and light on his feet. When he caught the chicken finally it was a victorious moment and then and only then was he ready to step into the ring and beat his opponent. I don’t want anybody to read this and think I’m equating Rocky’s opponent, Apollo Creed, to a chicken, I’m not. Apollo Creed threw a much harder punch. I’m merely painting a picture of how hard it is to catch a chicken.

The time it’ll take you to catch and diaper one is probably the time you would have spent cleaning up after one. Once you catch your chicken, you place it on the changing table the way you would a baby, you powder it the way you would a baby and then secure the diaper in place the way you would for a baby.

I wonder if chickens are comfortable in diapers or regard them the way women do Spanx; an unpleasant necessity. Do diapers come in sizes like human diapers? I wonder if the chicken’s parent’s fight over who has to change the diaper the way human parents do. What if the chicken lays an egg while wearing an already full diaper? Would you want to be the one to fish it out?

Last, since horses are always being transported (I always see them in those little trucks) why aren’t there horse diapers? I’m sure it must get messy, not to mention smelly in those trucks. But, that’s definitely one diaper I’d never change. 

Baby Bump

It pleases the average woman that Kate Middleton just gave birth and is wearing clothes which shows her ‘baby bump.’ She’s young and the weight will come off in time, it’s not like she’s a Hollywood celebrity. Hollywood celebrities lose the thirty pounds they gained while pregnant, plus ten, name their baby something ridiculous like Apple and are on the cover of Vogue within forty- eight hours of giving birth. In the “Wow, How does she do it all” article the celebrity praises her baby, personal trainer, nanny, housekeeper and the guy who airbrushed her. There’s no baby bump to be seen. The average woman hates her. Working woman who don’t have money for trainers, nannies and personal chefs love Kate Middleton because she represents the average woman. She gives all women who have had a baby the power to ignore the pressure to lose or cover the bump.

 Why, I’m still trying to lose my bump from my third and last child, 20 years ago. A woman thinks when she gives birth and gains a baby she will lose the weight. Hah! You look at your baby and realize… it weighs seven pounds; you gained 40… something’s horribly wrong. You ate for two. Yet it looks like your bundle of joy didn’t eat his amount of spaghetti. It seems your bundle didn’t partake of the double thick, double chocolate shakes consumed on a daily basis to meet your calcium quota. You feel betrayed by your baby because their birth made you look in the mirror and question the second helping you took of well, everything. When your baby was born they were supposed to weigh more and (in your mind) you should weigh much, much less. They didn’t do their part.

You get upset that your maternity clothes stay front and center in your closet and you’re upset with the violent person you’ve become, punching people in the face because they ask, “So, when are you due?”

The average woman secretly hopes Kate will keep her bump till the next royal baby is born. The average woman will rally with support if she decks the clod who asks, “When are you due?” and their cries will be heard throughout the land.

Sleeping With a Stranger

USA Today had a piece about a new online hotel room sharing program. As stated – Easynest, started up in May and capitalizes on the fact most hotel rates are based on double occupancy, even if there’s just one person. It’s like having a roommate to split the rent.

Here’s how it works. You create a profile with Easynest, listing the places you’d like to visit along with dates and wait for a “host” (the hotel room booker) to contact you. Hotel and “guest’ then confirm dates, cost and other details and the guest pays the host directly. Currently the service is free, but there will be a fee in the future.

Unless there’s a thorough background search done on all “guests” this can be a crazy and dangerous idea. Who knows what kind of loon you’ll get as a roommate. Will you have to fill out a survey listing your likes and dislikes so the host can find you the perfect roommate? Do you prefer a quiet person who’ll let you sleep or a talkative person who’ll keep you up all night? You should be informed if your roommate has a criminal record so you can bring valuables to the bathroom when you shower; it’s too easy to break the code on the room safe.

Wanting to shower at the same time can be a problem, unless your roommate is of the opposite sex and you’re attracted to each other… but, that’s a whole different story. Problems can arise if your roommate snores, takes up extra closet space and stinks up the room with cheap perfume. A big problem is if your roommate ate the goodies from the minibar and skipped out, leaving you with the bill. I realize the same problems exist for married couples (minus the stealing) sharing a room, but at least the marriage license gives you free reign to openly and easily voice your grievances. Would you be so open and honest with a stranger? I don’t know if I would. I do know I’d be uneasy sleeping in the same room with someone I just met, unless it’s George Clooney. In that case I’d request one single bed. It wouldn’t be a problem at all.