Work Like a Dog

The Frolick Dogs gym in Alexandria, Virginia is 6,000 square feet, has two treadmills, balance balls, a cross-training space and an agility course. Frolick is Washington’s area’s first sports club for pets. For $50 a month, dogs get unlimited access to the facility. At the gym dogs get a greater variety of exercise, social time and a solid workout.                   

I’m curious if a photo ID is required at this doggie gym, like the gym for humans. What if dogs, like their owner (who joined the local gym January 2 as a New Year resolution and lost interest January 3) loss interest…what happens? Will a dog be forced to go? Since they can’t talk there’s no way for you to know your dog thinks this is a big waste of your money. He’d rather be home eating the dinner scraps that fall on the floor and chasing his tail than walking on a treadmill. If you really want him to get a workout, open the door the next time the mailman pulls up and watch him run. The dog can’t help it if your child, the one you bought the dog for, the kid who promised to walk it, doesn’t want to walk it when it rains or snows or their favorite show is on television. The dog would be happy to sit, eat biscuits and get fat right along with your kid than take a walk and have to wear that ridiculous sweater he got for Christmas. The poor dog’s embarrassed to wear such a sweater and gets taunted at the dog park. It’s a blow to a Rottweiler’s ego to be picked on by a little hotdog.

There have been times when walking I’ve seen a dog owner holding the dog and when I’ve asked, “Why” given the reply, “They like to be held.” Call me crazy, but I think holding your dog when they should be walking for exercise, maybe the reason the need for dog gyms originated.

I wonder how the dog gym policies will compare to human gyms. Will dogs be required to shower before entering – if so are the showers coed? Will they be required to walk certain directions on the track, depending on the day? Will they have to wipe down the equipment? Will they get a locker for their clothes? Oh, please, now that we have doggie gyms, doggie exercise outfits can’t be far behind.

Do You Do It In The Shower?

USA Today’s snapshot showed that 32% of people showered in the morning and 89% showered at night, before bed. I don’t know why people who bathe weren’t included. I feel as though in order to bathe one needs the luxury of time. Some people light candles, play soft music, drink wine and read a book. Just filling the tub requires time and takes longer than the average shower. I wish a shower was a pleasant experience for me, but it’s just a means to an end – getting clean. When I’m in the shower I’m not fully engaged as my mind is somewhere else.

When you shower in a hotel there’s always the fleeting, irrational thought you toss like a piece of garbage – should I wear flip-flops? Because even though the shower looks all clean and sparkly, we’re suspicious. Thanks to shows like Dateline or Primetime we all know looks can be deceiving.

I think a follow-up question to – when do you shower, should be – do you pee in the shower? The people who pee in a pool are the same people who’ll pee in the shower; people who don’t pee in a pool, won’t pee in the shower. This is why we should pray for the little boy who pees in the shower and hope he doesn’t show off what a good speller he is by writing his name on the wall. You’ll need more protection than flip-flops can offer. I wouldn’t want to soak in a bath after him.

                                                                     

Target Offers Curbside Service

An article in USA Today reported that Target is offering ‘curbside’ service at select stores starting in SanFrancisco. The customer orders and pays for their purchase with a free app launched for Apple and Android devices. Your order is then packaged and waiting for you curbside when you arrive. The app taps into location services letting Target know you’re on your way.

I think, in theory, this is a great idea, especially for those who would benefit from this service, but in reality, I think it could become another story. Allowing curbside service at a store that already has pedestrian and car congestion can turn into a nightmare.

On my last trip to Target, I saw a car parked curbside (really, it was the middle of the road) with a driver at the wheel and thought he was dropping someone off. When I came out of Target, the same car was still there and finally left when the lady who was walking beside me got in the van. Turns out he waited for his wife and made curbside his park –n- wait.

Traffic in front of Target is bad enough, add curbside service and come holiday season you’ll have angry, ugly shoppers.                                             

Will curbside service be offered to the customer who orders a cheap $5 gift or will there be a minimum price requirement?

The article also mentioned that on-line retailer Sears recently added returns and exchanges to it in-vehicle curb services. It’s bad enough being in a store, stuck behind someone in line with no receipt, returning a 100 items… now we’ll be waiting behind them in a car? I could just smell the trouble. Wait too long and the ugly, angry customer/motorist will accidentally tap the person in front of them; a lawsuit waiting to happen.

I think because of all the inconsiderate people who park in the middle of the road (rather than curbside) and because of all the people who think curbside is their parking spot and all the people without a receipt, that curbside service should be at the stores back for backside service.

I fear that with curbside service the inevitable ugly news report will come, “Shoppers scrambled for safety when shots were fired today during curbside service. Santa was heard to have exclaimed ‘**** **** ****’ instead of Ho Ho Ho when his cap was blown off his head; poor Santa, an innocent victim in a case of curbside service gone wrong.

 

Double Duty Gifts

I went shopping for my daughter’s birthday which is in October. In one store I saw Frozen Christmas tree ornaments and I got them for her. Why wait? She’ll be able to admire them hanging from the tree before Christmas day. It can be confusing shopping this time of year as the Christmas decorations mixed with the Halloween decorations have you rushing the holidays.

I also bought her Christmas socks. Why wait? This way she can wear them the entire holiday season and not just Christmas day; although if she’s like the people who leave their lights up until Easter…she’ll wear them long after.

At another store I was looking for pajamas and instead got her a holiday sweatshirt. Why wait? Now she can wear it the entire season and not just on Christmas. I’ll bet you Santa gets miffed being recognized only one day out of 365.

I also bought her festive, holiday earrings. Why wait? Snowflakes are symbolic of winter and Christmas time. Now she can wear them the entire season and not just Christmas.

When I went to buy ingredients to make her cake I bought the nuts needed for my Christmas cookies. Why wait? They were on sale and I needed them…eventually.

When I went to buy her jacket, I came across holiday wreaths and bought one for myself. Why wait? Sure it wasn’t on the birthday list, but I wanted it so – why not?

Now that her birthday’s over I’ll have to start thinking of Christmas; it’ll be here before you know it. I knew I should have bought the wrapping paper I saw. Oh, why did I wait?                                                     

 

The Modification of the Truth and Other Things

I received a reminder card for my dental appointment. Part of it read ‘please take note of the time as it may have been modified.’ Isn’t it nice that doctors have the privilege to modify your appointment without first consulting with you? It sends a loud and clear message that their time is important and yours isn’t. If the shoe was on the other foot I don’t think doctors would appreciate the time modification.

Doctor: So, Mr. Smith, why were you late for your appointment?

Mr. Smith: Well, my appointment was at eight, but I felt like sleeping in, so I modified it to nine. You don’t mind do you, doc?

Guaranteed doc will mind.

Yesterday I went to a restaurant that modified my regular sandwich by decreasing the amount of meat. I wondered if they decreased the amount of meat, then why they didn’t decrease the price. Maybe they thought no one would notice.

Has anybody else besides me noticed how Chips Ahoy has modified the chocolate chip cookie? Very gradually it has been getting smaller and smaller. If it gets any smaller they’ll have to be called chocolate chip minis. If you’re a dunker who uses the same glass you will find a whole lot more room to swish the cookie around in. Try it. Perhaps Chips Ahoy thinks that just because people’s butts are getting bigger and bigger our vision is impaired and we won’t notice their cookie getting smaller and smaller. We notice.                          

Last time I went for my haircut, I told my stylist, “Do what you did last time. I loved it.” I was unhappy to realize that clearly she must have taken that to mean –‘modify it.’

And we all know a person who modifies the truth. Every time you talk to them they have a different story. They give some version of the truth depending on who they’re talking to. Only, the truth doesn’t have versions. It shouldn’t be modified like a chocolate chip cookie. Don’t mess with truth and don’t mess with the cookie .You hear that Chips Ahoy?

Bridesmaid for Hire

Did you know there’s a new service Bridesmaid for Hire? It caters to all price ranges. For a price the bridesmaid plays the role of: personal assistant, social director, on call therapist and peace-keeper. Since this is also the role of a wedding planner, I fail to see the difference; except the wedding planner doesn’t get stuck wearing a hideous dress they’ll never wear again. The dress and financial burden is why some girls decline the prestige of being someone’s bridesmaid.

Hire a bridesmaid and you don’t need to fret when those nearest and dearest to your heart turn down the offer. Since you’re hiring a stranger you don’t need to fret about hurting her feelings the way you may a friend.                                             

You won’t need to fret about calling her in the wee hours of the night, telling her your life’s woes because she’s paid to listen.

You won’t need to fret that she got a black eye breaking up the fight aunt Ethel and your grandmother had at your shower because she’s paid to be the peace – keeper. She’ll cover it with makeup and nobody will notice.

You won’t fret that uncle Buck got fresh with her after he drank too much because she’s paid to direct and she directed him out the door.

You won’t fret that pre wedding jitters had you go to the bathroom, your veil fell in the bowl and she walked behind you up the aisle, wringing it out. She’s paid to assist and she assisted.

She won’t fret about any wedding fiasco as she cashes your check and flies off to Vegas with her fiancée to elope. They’ll be no bridesmaid and no fretting at her wedding.

 

 

Moldy Cheese and Sour Milk

‘Salvage supermarkets’ sell foods past their expired or use by dates. The shelves are stocked with food that expired within the past few months. With all the high-fat, high-sugar, artificial ingredients, processed foods that go into our diets is there still a need for expiration dates? If a Twinkie had been buried with King Tut and eaten today, it would still ooze the same artificial, sugary, no nutritional value sweet flavor.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell when certain foods are bad. If there’s no mold on your cheese – be brave and eat it. But some foods are tricky. For instance, how do you know when cottage cheese goes bad? How do you know when yogurt goes bad? You have to take chances in life.

Some foods, like milk, need the sniff test. When I got married, I vowed to, “Love, honor and be the family sniffer.” I’ve since become a smell expert over the years, dishing out advice on everything from milk to body odors.                                              

                                      

·         “Yes, the milk’s bad.”

·         “My God, whatever you’re eating stinks. It’s bad. Throw it out.” “But, I’m not eating anything.” “Oops, sorry, Honey,” I tell my husband. He can’t be a sniffer because certain smells don’t bother him.

·         “Eat that this morning and you’ll wind up at the doctor this afternoon; and when you go bring a magazine.” We all know when we go to the doctor to bring our own reading material if we want something current.

 I think as a society we should shift our focus from foods (that can’t expire anyway) to getting rid of outdated magazines in a doctor’s office. I’ll bet ‘cha if they keep outdated magazines around that their fridge is stocked with all kinds of expired foods. Something must be done.

 

 

Like a Kid Again

An article in USA Today reported vacation rental services that allow travelers to stay in private homes rather than hotels are going after business travelers, who may want the comfort and convenience of home. People who try it are hooked. The article mentioned that having a business meeting in a home with a lake view rather than a boardroom gives a whole different atmosphere.

Since the whole idea of staying at a home is for the guest to feel at home, I have some concerns. Does this home provide housekeeping or are the guests responsible for their mess? If there’s no maid service and your guest is Felix Unger there is no problem. However, if your guest is Oscar Madison things can get messy (literally.)

If the guest throws a party and possessions are taken or broken – who’s responsible? Is it covered by insurance?

When you travel and things are as they should be, you get a comfy, at home feeling.

When my husband and I visit my mother, I feel like I’m home, but things are not as they should be. Staying in a room with twin beds I feel like a twelve year kid again. I feel like Lucy from the I Love Lucy show. Ricky could hover over Lucy’s bed, but he never got access to it. If he sat on the bed, one foot had to be firmly planted on the floor. When Little Ricky was born you stopped yourself from questioning the conception to believing in modern days miracles and believing he too should have been born in a manger.                                       

At my mother’s, in bed, at night, talking is in hushed tones and laughter is smothered in pillows. In the morning my husband may sneak into my bed for a morning kiss, leaving one foot planted on the floor, of course.

Less Food - Easy on the Hair

My husband and I ate at a restaurant that had such an extensive menu it was divided into Volumes 1 and 2. After reading Vol. 1 I needed a break to rest my eyes. Have you ever noticed the higher the prices, the dimmer the lights? Anyway, the lights weren’t so dim that I didn’t notice the strand of hair in my food. I stopped eating.  At last night’s dinner the dead bug in the kale made me stop eating. I’m assuming it was dead – it was on its back, legs suspended in air. When I poked it, it was crispy - just like the kale. On the heels of this I read an article in USA Today that reported some restaurant chains are cutting the number of menu items. The theory is less is more. More quality. Faster service. Hotter food. I just hope it’s less hair. They say, “Too many choices make it hard for consumers to make a choice. I agree.

I don’t know why restaurants have never adopted the limited children’s menu for the adults menu. Basically every restaurant offers the same items: chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, hamburger and pizza. Why? Because they know that’s what kids like and will eat. They don’t thread into uncharted waters. They stick with the tried and true.

When our kids were little and we gave them something to eat they didn’t like, we served it on their favorite Disney plate, giving the illusion that it was likable.  They could be excused once they ate the beets covering The Little Mermaids mouth. They could be excused once they ate the meatloaf off of Simba’s tail.  Who knows, maybe if I had eaten off of a Lion King’s plate I wouldn’t have noticed the hair in my food. It would have blended in with Simba’s tail.

                                                                                           

 

School Days

As a parent the excitement builds the night before. You’re so giddy with anticipation you can’t sleep. You toss and turn waiting for morning light and the hope it brings. You replay all the Staples commercials in your head and agree that it is The Most Wonderful time of the Year. On the first day of school a parent’s expression resembles a kid’s expression on the last day of school.

On the first day of school a parent jumps out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning. Miraculously, overnight the aches and pains that usually slow them down in the morning have vanished and they’ve adapted a new personal mantra – the world is great, the kids will be gone at eight. It is this mantra they play over and over in their head as they float down the stairs to assemble lunches. It is this mantra they sing as they get the kids dressed and fed. It is this mantra they sing as they fling open the front door and wait to hear the roar of the school bus.

It is this mantra they’re singing twenty minutes later for the bus to come whisk their children off to school. It is this mantra they’re still singing (be it) a little less enthusiastically 45 minutes later when calling the bus company to find out where the hell the bus is.

An hour later, putting on socks and shoes to take the kids to school they’ve made some changes to their mantra – the world is!!***!! And why the!!***!! are the kids still here when it’s after eight? Excitement is replaced with puzzlement as to how a bus driver can get lost with all the electronic devices available to them today. There’s a wonderful device called a GPS. Get one! Use it! If the bus isn’t equipped with a GPS, the driver should use the one available on their phone. With a GPS buses would run on time and parents could go back to chanting – the world is great, the kids will be gone at eight!                                                                  

Potty Training Made Simple

I saw a news story about a professional potty trainer who claims she can train your kids in two days for $1,750. For parents who don’t have time, are at wits end and want to outsource, this is a viable option.

She has a simple approach – loads the kids up with liquid and sets the timer to buzz every forty minutes. If the timer goes off every forty minutes it means the lady does leave the house. The real challenge would be to potty train a kid on the go.

 Why, parents know that sometimes it takes forty minutes to get a fidgeting kid into a snowsuit. By the time she’d dress them in their snowsuit, gloves, hat and boots, her forty minutes would be up and she’d have to undress them. They won’t have time to make a snowball… but they may make the snow yellow.

Sometimes it takes forty minutes to pack the car for a trip to Grandma’s. By the time she’d pack the baby bag, high chair, toys, portable crib, stroller and play pen, her forty minutes would have come and gone.

 Some may question if hiring an expert is a missed opportunity for parent and child to bond. If a parent no longer changed their kids diaper then they would no longer see the creamed corn and be reminded of last night’s dinner. If a parent no longer changed their sons diaper they wouldn’t worry about going blind from all the times their son squirted them in the eye.  You would think a kid with perfect aim like that would be a natural at hitting the Cheerio at the bowl’s bottom; but they’re not, which is why you use the gold star reward system.

Recently I found an old calendar filled with gold potties reminding me of the potty wars with my kids. My oldest would sit on the potty for an hour, finally stand up, move over and go on the floor. My son would have preferred to eat the Cheerio rather than pee on it. And I thought my youngest would go straight from Pull Ups to Depends.

The calendar served as a reminded that time goes by in a blink of an eye… a dry eye that is.

                                                                                   

 

Phone Zombies

I read an article in USA Today that the average time in restaurants is getting longer because of “phone zombies.” A ‘phone zombie” tweets, texts, instagrams, looks at photos and lingers at their table making for an unreasonably long meal. I wasn’t surprised to read this as lately I’ve been held up in all kinds of situations thanks to the “phone zombie.”                                 

One time I was at a traffic light and when the light turned green I waited for the car in front of me to go. When it didn’t go, I went around and saw that the driver was texting, oblivious to the fact the light was green and he was holding up traffic.

Another time I was in an elevator filled with people. When the elevator stopped at the second floor and nobody exited we all turned to look at the guy who pressed the # 2 button when he entered. This man was on his phone and oblivious to the fact he reached his floor and kept others waiting.

Then there was the time I waited to use a one-stall public restroom. I heard the women inside talking and assumed she was in there with someone. When she exited I realized she was alone, but talking on her phone. This woman was oblivious to the fact that she kept others waiting and spoke unnecessarily loud on her phone.

But, the most unbelievable situation was when I was in the hospital emergency room. A doctor attempted to talk to the patient in the bed next to mine; the patient who was on his phone, signaled for the doctor wait. After the doctor made two attempts he walked away and I overheard him say to the nurse, “Get him off the phone and then get me.” I couldn’t blame the doctor for being angry with the guy. He was probably having a nice enjoyable meal at some restaurant where he was instagraming, tweeting and texting when he was pulled away from dinner and came to work to deal with a “phone zombie.” Why it would have served that guy right if the doctor had posted pictures of his ruptured appendix on his phone and all over social media. It’s called “phone zombie” revenge.

Eating Outdoors

I stepped in melted ice cream on the street the other day. Melted ice cream is a given come the hot weather when kids and adults alike enjoy the cool treat outside. Come summer when people picnic and barbecue walking becomes a perilous sport. It’s best to put down your phone and pay attention to where you step before you step in something you shouldn’t. Ketchup from a packet squirts pretty far when stepped on… take it from one who knows.

When it’s hot people go from eating while driving to eating while walking. Oh, you’ll still get the person who eats in their car, like the guy in his car who I saw eat French fries and then wipe his hands on his shirt. Classy. And there’s the lady who leaves you in disbelief because she’s holding an ice cream cup in one hand, shoveling the spoon into her mouth with the other hand, while trying to make a turn. You wonder about certain people.

Peach day is a big celebration at our local farmer’s market. People walk around eating peaches and a variety of fruit. After sampling the peaches my husband and I sat on a bench to eat a funnel cake heaped with confectioner’s sugar. No matter how you eat it, a funnel cake is messy. If you’re eating it on a windy day it’s best not to wear black. Take it from one who knows. Specks of powdered sugar dotting the bench were our calling card. A bird flew overhead while we ate and dropped a present. His calling card was covered in confectioner’s sugar. The people who eat in their cars never have such problems. I think they know better.

At the Beach

Sitting on the beach, catching some rays and listening to the peaceful, rhythmic, sound of the waves as they lapped against the shore, she watched people come and go. She saw joggers out for their morning run. She saw old married couples walking hand in hand. She saw children building a sand castle.

However, she couldn't help but watch the two people in the water. A father and daughter in the ocean on a beach filled with people, and yet, you would think the two of them were on their own island. They were oblivious to all others; they were wrapped up in their own world and having fun.

The father held the little girl in his arms, while venturing out into the water. The little girl had her arms wrapped around her father's neck. Anytime a wave came and crashed against their bodies, almost causing them to topple over, the girl would laugh hysterically and squeeze her arms just a little tighter around her father's neck. The force of the waves was powerful, but the strength of being held in her father's arms, arms filled with love, were more powerful. Those arms would not let the little girl fall, she was safe.

Suddenly, watching the father and daughter, she was in another place and time. She was with her own father on vacation at the beach more than 30 years ago. The vacation spot was Atlantic City, N.J. The days always started out the same by waking up early. Waking up early on vacation meant a day filled with activities and fun. Waking up early at home meant a school day! She loved early morning vacation days. You could wake up early to bicycle ride on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. Or ride alone or ride a bicycle built for two. She wanted to ride from one end of the boardwalk to the other. But as always, time ran out before the boardwalk did.
 

Next, it was onto the beach. Time at the beach was spent soaking up the sun, looking for seashells and always, winding up in the water. Much like the little girl who held onto her father for safety, so did she. Holding hands, together, they would brave the waves. She remembered watching as a big wave approached and wondering who would win out, the wave or her father. The wave would come rushing towards them, using all its force to knockdown and drag her back out with it. Only, it never happened, she held on tight to her father. He won and she was safe.

 

There were times her father would swim alone and challenge the ocean. It was at these times, instead of waiting for the waves to come to him, he would swim into them. The harder and faster the wave approached, the quicker he would swim. Every time the two met, it seemed as though the wave was the victor as it swallowed him up. She could still hear her mother, calling out her father's name and waiting for him to reappear in the water. A minute or two would pass, and his head would pop up. He would wave to signal he was safe. Eventually, regrettably, he would come out of the water, just the way the little girl was doing now.

Seeing the little girl emerge from the water instantly brought the lady back to present day. The girl walked straight up to the lady watching her and said, "Hi mommy." I looked at my daughter and said, "Hi" back. I didn't ask if she had a good time. From the smile on her face, I knew she did. My daughter never met her grandfather. Yet, I am certain that as sure as my husband's arms were around her, holding her up and keeping her safe, so were her grandfather's.
 

But, oh, what wouldn't I give to see him wave to me from the ocean one more time.

 

An Affair - Physical or Emotional

What constitutes an affair? Sex? Emotions? Which is worse – an affair with just sex or an affair with emotions involved? I think most women would choose the emotional affair. When you know your spouse has given their heart to someone else, you know you’ve lost them.

The writer of the advice column in my local newspaper wrote, ‘some people mistakenly believe if there’s no sex, there’s no affair. But giving your heart, emotions and innermost thoughts to someone other than your spouse is cheating.’

When you give your heart to someone there’s love. When you lust after someone there’s raging hormones. Love and lust are two separate things. You can lust after someone other than your spouse. It’s love that’ll keep you from breaking your wedding vows. It’s love that holds you to your word of honor.  Besides, you know if you got caught you’d be toast. How many of you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught?             

The day of a friend’s wedding she asked me as I applied her makeup, “What if I marry him and then meet Mr. Right?” Excuse me?! She was getting married in an hour! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Her soon-to-be husband should be Mr. Right and not Mr. Right Now. I suspected love and lust for her would go hand-in-hand and her Mr. Right Now would become Mr. Goodbye.

As a married person you learn loyalty means many things. It means your spouse eats your homemade cake rather than his mother’s (which they like better.) Loyalty means nodding in agreement at whatever your spouse says in public and waiting to yell and disagree later, in private. How could they have said such a crazy thing?

 According to my local grocery store’s slogan – ‘loyalty deserves a pat on the back.’ So, tonight in bed, rather than giving my husband a kiss, I’ll give him a pat on the back. It’s what every loyal spouse wants.

Tell Me How You Feel

Pet Pace, a smart dog collar monitors how a dog feels, its vitals and daily activity. Just look at any dog dressed in a ridiculous holiday outfit their owner put them in and you don’t need a smart collar to tell you they’re not happy; their angry and sad. Yet, every year their owner dresses them like a doll for the holiday photo.

On the heels of this British Airways has introduced the ‘happiness blanket’ which tracks how flyers feel. This ‘high-tech’ blanket changes colour to depict passenger’s emotions during flight by measuring brain waves.  When the flyer’s calm and relaxed, the blanket’s blue. If the flyer’s anxious or stressed, the blanket’s red. The airline hopes that monitoring a person’s sleep and relaxation patterns will help change and improve the in-flight experience, providing input about the type and timing of meals, in-flight entertainment and even cabin lighting.

This modern day, highly visible mood ring maybe helpful to the staff, alerting them to passengers who need attention. But if one passenger’s blanket is red it’s just a warning to other passengers – ‘angry flyer in aisle 2 – stay away!’ Sometimes the color of a person’s blanket will have nothing to do with the plane itself; they may just be a nervous flyer.

A nervous flyer’s anxiety can reach its peak before they even board the plane…at security. Anxiety rises when they’re in line behind a stubborn toddler who just learned to tie his shoes and wants to show everyone. Oh, why didn’t his mother buy loafers? Anxiety rises when the TSA tells him they’re studying to become a proctologist and snaps the rubber glove - a little too enthusiastically. Anxiety rises when some blockhead jumps security to give his girlfriend one last kiss, closing down the airport.

I think what we really need is a smart collar for husbands. It would be great to have a collar that tracks your spouse’s mood so you won’t have to. There will be no more guessing if he’s telling the truth or just saying he’s happy to get you to shut up, leave him alone and quit asking, “What’s wrong,” when he’s quiet. Now that’s a brilliant idea.

                                                                                    

                                                                                  

 

 

Donations Accepted

Some girls plan their dream wedding at the age of twelve – they know what they want… all they need is the man and a dress. Sometimes that dream wedding may come at a price beyond their means. To have that dream wedding, no matter the cost, today’s brides-to-be have started a new trend called ‘Crowdfunding.’

Good Morning America reported that brides-to-be who can’t pay for their wedding are turning to family, friends and even strangers for donations – ‘Crowdfunding.’

Guaranteed if Aunt Sally makes a monetary donation there will be strings attached and she’ll demand certain things. If she covers the cost of flowers, she’ll demand black roses instead of the lilies you want. If Uncle Fred covers transportation he’ll supply motorcycles for the bridal party and tell you, “Rain on your wedding means good luck.” There was chlorine (lots of it) in Uncle Fred’s gene pool. Your estranged cousin (Uncle Fred’s daughter) donates money just so her son can be ring bearer. You know he’ll ruin the wedding and will swallow the rings before he makes it to the altar and your cousin’s counting on it. But, you accept the donation because you need that last $1,000.                                                

If a bride-to-be accepts donations from big businesses, don’t be surprised if her wedding gown is covered in advertisements rather than pearls.

If you have a destination wedding the cost escalates for your guests. It was reported that the average cost for being a bridesmaid today is $1,700. That’s a lot! People want to share in your special day – they just don’t want it to be a financial hardship. If you find yourself breaking the bank and begging for donations for your dream wedding then you might want to consider ‘plan b’ – ELOPE. Planning the perfect marriage is much more important than planning the perfect wedding day.

Sleep Tight

USA Today reported how hotels are working to help guests fall asleep. The Westin Hotel, New York offers sleep masks, aromatherapy oils and a mattress that adjust to different body zones. The Hard Rock Hotel, Chicago has a Sandman Sleep Menu with amenities such as a sound machine, ear plugs and eye mask. The Westin, New York at Times Square offers “Rest Well Calls.” Guest get a call at night advising them to go to sleep and another one seven to eight hours later.

I think signing up for “Rest Well Calls” is like traveling with your mother. On vacation our mother told us when to go to bed. In the morning she woke us by drawing back the shades to let the sunlight in. She had us up and running bright and early because in her words, “We didn’t want to waste time on vacation sleeping.” This was shocking news to us because we most certainly did want to sleep.

I’ve stayed at hotels where the hotel itself is the reason I can’t sleep. I’ve stayed in hotel rooms too close to the elevator and utility closet that the noise interrupted my sleep. I’ve learned when checking into a hotel to request a room as far away as possible from both. I stayed at a hotel filled with college kids on spring break. Their nighttime entertainment kept me up all night. They were kids on vacation without a bedtime or a mother.

As a kid you always want to stay up past your bedtime. On the nights my mother worked late I would stay up watching Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show. When I heard her car pull up in the driveway I would shut the television, run into my room and jump into bed. Lucky for me she never felt the television; if she did she never let on.

I no longer have my mother to enforce bedtime and wake me up in the morning, but I’ve got a replacement – my neighbor’s dog. Every single morning, bright and early, rain or shine this dog greets the day by waking up the neighbors. I don’t need an alarm clock. This dog and my mother would get along beautifully.                               

 

Topless Photos Latest Travel Rage

The topless tour started two years ago by two girls after they took an impromptu topless dip in a cold lake in Norway. Since then they’ve been traveling all over and posting topless photos against dramatic backgrounds. When they invited others to join in, the photos poured in. Topless photos – taken from the back – are featured on the social media channels of the Topless Tour.

The tour currently has 20,000 followers on Instagram. Photos are submitted from both men and women. Some describe it as “Liberating and proud of who they are and their bodies.”

Not to take anything away from the men, but isn’t a topless photo of one man on the beach, really every man on the beach? I don’t think a topless photo taken from the back means the same thing to a man as it does a woman. Men have been allowed the pleasure and freedom of going topless since time began. I see topless men all the time mowing the grass, poolside, at the beach and just walking around. It makes sense for an even tan. Men don’t have to worry about bikini lines. Why, even men who shouldn’t parade around shirtless do. I’ve told my husband it’s not fair that men are allowed to walk around topless and women are not allowed. He agrees. He thinks all women should go topless – anywhere, anytime. He’s even thinking of starting a petition.                                                    

The thing that concerns me is not everyone’s back is photo worthy. You know what I’m talking about. Some backs are hairy. Some backs have moles requiring the attention of a dermatologist. Some backs have skin tags the size of mini water balloons. Some backs have skin tags that were frozen and have crusted up, waiting to drop. Some backs have scratch marks from … well… anyway.

For certain women a topless photo can be embarrassing when someone looks at your photo and asks, “Hey, why do you have 4 legs?” It’s time to put your blouse back on and cover up your embarrassment.

Bikini Season

        
Bikini season is fast approaching ladies and you know what that means. Time to shave those hairy legs! It also means time to shop for a bathing suit. First, a full assessment of your body should be done. It should be done naked, in front of a full length mirror. This way you can pinpoint your problem areas to work on. I know there are people who would have no problem with this as they like their bodies. I don’t personally know these two people, but I do know I don’t like them. While taking a good look at yourself, you realize things have changed with age. You suddenly come face to face with certain facts. Fact #1- double chins on a newborn baby are cute, on a middle-aged person, not so cute. Fact #2- rolls on the thighs of a baby girl as a result of wearing a diaper are acceptable. Rolls on the thighs of an older woman as a result of wearing a thong, are not acceptable. Fact #3- dimples on a baby’s skin, such as arms and legs are adorable and kissable. Dimples on an older persons skin, especially in places not meant to be see, not adorable or kissable.

            Some of us choose to get in shape for bathing suit season early, like January. Every year many people make a New Years resolution to lose weight and exercise. I am not one of these people. I learned not to make promises I can’t keep. However, adding exercise and sports to your everyday life can be a plus in losing weight and getting fit. Only, I would not choose bowling, a sport where you play and eat at the same time. You’ll be dropping the ball, but you won’t be dropping the pounds.

            Luckily, today, suits are made to fit women of all proportions. In theory there is a perfect suit for every woman, whether she is pear-shape, curvy, has a tummy bulge or no waist at all. Today, different suites are designed for different occasions, be it relaxing by the pool, working out in the pool, or looking for sea shells while strolling on the beach. All I know is that no matter what suit I pick out, somehow it will look different on me than it did on the super model who wore it while parading up and down the fashion runway. She, by the way, is # 1 of the two people I mentioned earlier.      

            After all is said and done, bathing suits will be bought. They will be bought by men and women, the young and the old, the fat and the skinny. Some will be a perfect fit and some will not. Some people will reap the rewards for all their hard work of dieting and exercise. However, I think credit should be given to the guy who you will see strutting around in a speedo, with his stomach hanging way, way, down over it. This guy has guts and is obviously under the wrong assumption that he looks good in his suit. Oh, and need I say it, he is without a doubt, the # 2 person I mentioned earlier.

Time's Up

My husband watches the sports show PTI (Pardon the Interruption) on ESPN with Tony Kornheiser and Mike Wilbon. The two hosts faceoff about a variety of topics. Each topic has a timer and when it goes off the men are supposed to stop talking and move on to the next topic, but they usually disregard the timer and keep talking. When I asked my husband what he thought of the timer, he replied without hesitation, “I wish I had a timer for you.” During my angry, untimed rebuttal he kept pointing the TV remote at me and jabbing a button. When he threw it down and said with frustration, “It doesn’t work,” I took the bait and asked, “What doesn’t work?” “The mute button, I kept pressing it, but you keep talking.”  There are a lot of husbands who would love for their wives to be programmed with a timer or a mute button. Is it any wonder why we talk to ourselves?

Talking to yourself doesn’t mean you’re crazy. When you talk to yourself you don’t have to fear criticism or judgment. Conversation with yourself can be short and sweet, unless you’re a schizophrenic. If that’s the case talking to yourself with at least 4 or 5 other people involved can make for a lengthy conversation. It’s only when you talk to yourself, interrupt yourself and then argue with yourself you need to worry.  

Time was if you saw a person walking down the street talking to them self you’d think them crazy, but today you don’t know. Last night while walking I saw a man I thought was talking to himself. As I got closer I saw the Bluetooth under his hair. He was not crazy. What would have been crazy is if the Bluetooth was used as a mere decoy for others to think he was talking to someone when in reality he was talking to himself. This guy’s constant jabber interrupted my peaceful walk that I wished he was programmed with a timer or mute button.

I know if I were to wear a Bluetooth and walked around talking to myself, my husband would follow me with the remote hitting the ‘mute’ button. Now that would be crazy.

Feet out the Window

Summertime – long, hot days, barbecues, the beach and feet. The other day while stopped at a traffic light I looked over to the car next to me and saw the passenger with their feet out the window. Over the past few years I’ve come to associate bare feet hanging out a car window symbolic of summer. It seems more and more people are doing it. Why exactly, I don’t know. It baffles me and I question why someone would wave their feet in the breeze from a car going 70mph. Personally, I don’t think I can get my feet that high anymore, but that’s another story.

The only reasonable explanation I can think of is – they wanted to air out their feet, took off their shoes in the car, and when the driver started gagging demanded they put their feet outside. And, have you noticed it’s never the pretty, well-groomed feet on display for all to see? It’s always the ugly, dirty, in need of TLC feet waving at you; it’s the feet that should be kept covered.

It’s like the delusional lady in a thong on the beach. It’s like the delusional man in a speedo on the beach. These people know they shouldn’t, but they do. Why? Maybe they don’t care or maybe they don’t have a mirror. Summertime comes and people lose their inhibitions… people who shouldn’t. Just because it’s summer and you lose the winter coat does not mean you should lose your mind. Get a hold of yourself! Just because you can walk around half- naked doesn’t mean you should. Stop scaring old ladies and small children. When a small child is playing in his sand castle and sees a full moon, darkening his sky and coming at him, it will scar him for life. It shouldn’t be done.

And hanging dirty feet from a car window shouldn’t be done. If you do it, please put on some socks; do us all a favor. I realize when you get out of the car you’ll then have to put your sandals on over your socks. Why, I can’t believe it… but I’ve just answered the age old question I’ve written about before – why do men wear sandals with socks? It makes sense.

                                                                                    

 

 

Kiddie Prison

Lawmakers in Spain have advanced a new draft Child Protection Bill, which stipulates that kids (18 and under) must help out with housework and be polite to their parents and teachers. Children will be legally obliged to perform chores in accordance with their age. However, the legislation doesn’t mention how the law will be enforced if children fail to comply.

In theory this law sounds good, but as a parent of a 5 year old who doesn’t make their bed you’re faced with a question – do you punish them by banning TV for a week or do you take them to court. The expression on judge (Get me out of here) is solemn as he questions why he didn’t pursue the stress-free job of sanitation man. He also questions the fair punishment for hardened criminals who stand before him - a 5 year old who didn’t make her bed and a 6 year old who didn’t take out the trash. Who should get a harsher sentence? If he gives the girl a harsher sentence will he be labeled a sexist? Will it ruin his future plans to run for Supreme Court? What is the appropriate punishment? If he sends the kids to prison sure enough their parents won’t get Mother’s Day or Father’s Day cards. He didn’t study this in law school. But, he didn’t need law school to know that the toe-tapping parents, clutching their suitcases, airline tickets and yelling, Put em in the slammer,” don’t want justice, they want a childfree vacation.           

             

Rather than taking your kid to court when they disobey or don’t do their chores just bribe them the way self-respecting parents do. $5 dollars to have your kid do their chores is better than $500 dollars in court costs. Or, use the old but stable threat – “If you don’t clean your room, Santa Claus won’t come.” It guarantees results. I wonder if Santa’s ever had discipline issues with his elves. What does Santa say to a rebellious elf, “Hey, stop doing that to Rudolph or I won’t give you the toy you want for Christmas.” It must be hard for Santa to threaten the elves; they know better. What if Santa could take his elves to court? What a sad Christmas it would be with all the rebellious elves and the little girls and boys who didn’t do their chores in jail; the hardened criminals.   

Who should You Trust?

Spring is here and For Sale signs are dotting the landscape. But seller beware when selling your home. The show 20/20 aired a piece titled ‘Worst Realtors’ Bad Behavior,’ that showed realtors rummaging through drawers and taking prescribed medication. Some realtors were caught stealing jewelry. Two realtors were caught in romantic encounters in the homeowners’ bed. When they were done they remade the bed so no one could tell anything was amiss. Good thing the female realtor didn’t lose an earring in the bed for the lady of the house to find and suspect her husband of having an affair. Things could have turned horribly wrong.

When you go on vacation and give your neighbor the house key so they can take in the mail and water the plants, you can count on a little snooping. When you have first time dinner guests who use the powder room, you can count on a little snooping.

When you give the key to your fancy, expensive sports car to a valet you can count on a little snooping. 20/20 also featured unethical valets who snooped through your stuff and pocketed your money. It featured valets that took cars for a joy ride before they parked it. If they happened to ding it while parking it, so be it. You wouldn’t notice till you got home and by then it would be too late. You’d have no proof and it would be a case of ‘he said – she said.’

 Even though the realtors violated your bed the way the valet violated your car, they were able to physically cover the evidence by straightening the bed sheets and covers. It would be perfect karma if the bed your realtor used as their playground had bedbugs. Why, then you could definitely count your blessings there won’t be a repeat performance.  

                                                                                      

 

 

Breakfast With Tony

Early one Sunday morning I called my girlfriend. She didn’t answer the phone because she was eating cereal and didn’t want it to get soggy. We talked after she ate. When you’re a kid you don’t care so much if your cereal’s stale or soggy so long as it comes with a prize. As a kid I didn’t care if the cereal was good for me so long as it had Tony the Tiger on the cereal box. Tony was great and if he told me Frosted Flakes was great, I believed him. I ate Life cereal because, Mikey (the kid, who didn’t like anything, ate it) and I believed in Mikey.  

No matter what type of cereal I eat, there has to be cold milk to go with it. There are two types of people when it comes to pouring milk into cereal. Type one: the all-at-once pourer, which describes me. I pour milk into my cereal and return the milk to the fridge. I stir my cereal so it’s dampened with milk. Eating cereal like this leaves no time for idle chit-chat because if you engage in conversation cereal will become soggy.                    

Type two: the little-bit-at-a-time pourer, which is my husband. This method suits him since he spends an hour at the breakfast table. He pours a little bit of milk and eats a little bit of cereal as he reads the paper. When the milk supply is depleted he adds a little bit more milk and eats a little bit more cereal. For a man who attacks lunch and dinner meals like pit stops for fuel only and not enjoyment, I find it amazing he’ll spend an hour with a bowl of cereal. Since he eats slowly and is a little-bit-at-a-time milk pourer, the milk is always warm by the time he’s done.

The only thing worse than warm milk is curdled milk, which you find out is bad only after you’ve poured it into your bowl of cereal. Looking at chunks of milk floating on the top of your cereal is not a good start to the day. If that was the last of the milk then you have a decision to make – eat dry cereal or pancakes with syrup.

When it comes to eating pancakes with syrup there are two types of people: the one who pours the syrup all over their pancakes and the one who likes the syrup on the side for dipping their pancakes. In case you’re wondering, my husband and I eat our pancakes much the same way we eat our cereal.

It's a Mystery

The city council of Greensboro is considering an ordinance that would prevent bus riders from wearing pants that hang too low. The ordinance would require waistbands no lower than three inches below the hip bones so this way skin or underwear won’t show. If you violate the ordinance you could be banned from riding public transportation for up to thirty days.

Cities such as Fort Worth, Texas and Springfield, Ill., have already adopted such a policy.

It’s believed sagging pants originated in prison – prisoners aren’t given belts because they can be used as a suicide tool, so their pants sag. I can understand the reasoning, but what I don’t understand is the person who wants to emulate prison attire. Why emulate a bad role model? Was it someone’s way of paying homage to a friend or relative in jail? Are we fresh out of good role models to emulate? Is there any logical reason why?

I think I speak for all of us tired of this tasteless and disrespectful fashion when I say, “It’s about time.” There was a time when people cared enough to get embarrassed if their underwear showed; before low-rise jeans made the thong a necessity rather than an uncomfortable accessory.

What type of underwear a person wore was a mystery, you had to look at a man and guess – boxers or briefs. Did he wear the heart covered briefs his wife gave him… just on Valentine’s Day or year round? How often did he change his underwear? Did he leave it on the floor or place it in the hamper? Did he wear underwear to bed or go commando? It was an unsolvable mystery.

You had to look at a women and guess – 100% cotton or satin thong. Was she practical with buying the Hanes value pack or playful with buying the Victoria Secret lace thong? Did she suffer wedgie’s from her practical underwear like she did from her frilly thong? Did she ever mistake her thong for dental floss? It was an unsolvable mystery.

One time at work, my husband’s pants split. He was embarrassed and when people stared, laughed, pointed and snickered – mortified. He came home to change pants and seek solace from me. Unfortunately, for him I was on the floor, doubled over in laughter, gasping for air that I couldn’t offer him comfort. He changed his pants and returned to work. I had a good laugh and that day his coworkers solved the mystery.

Know When to Go

My husband and I saw a play that was so bad we left during intermission. We would have left earlier but didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves and disrupt the play. I always feel funny being the first to leave any event so at a party I permit myself to leave only after someone else leaves first. Seeing the first person leave is like a signal for others to leave and then there’s a stampede toward the door. All at once fifty people are grabbing their coats, gloves, hats and bags and elbowing their way out the door.

As a host you never mind the person who leaves first; however, you do mind the person who leaves last. When you have a guest who won’t leave you’re faced with the question – how do I get rid of them? Do you give hints such as yawning or changing into pajamas? Do you give verbal hints proclaiming you’re tired and have to rise early in the morning for work? Do you make promises you don’t intend to keep such as, “I promise to call tomorrow, Mother, if you go home, now.”

As a host, should you feel obligated to watch television with them? Should you feel obligated to feed them the turkey sandwich they request, after the kitchen has been closed for the night? Do you rub their feet as requested or do you request they lift their feet so you can run the vacuum under the couch?                                  

                                                                                                                                                        

 When it comes to unwanted guests I’m reminded of a line Tony Randall said in one of my all-time favorite shows The Odd Couple, “Never overstay your welcome or you’ll never be welcomed to stay over.” No truer words have ever been said.