Growing Old

            My son clipped a Polident coupon, and gave it to me, I don’t know why but I saved it. The magazine Arthritis Today, arrived in the mail, I don’t know why, but I read it. My last doctors visit; he would frequently utter the words,”Someone of your age.” He looked like he should be playing little league. I don’t know why, but I wanted to hurt him. Celebrated my birthday, in a restaurant, at the same time a senior citizen convention was held. I felt happy and I knew why.

            Some people accept growing older graciously, and some people fight it tooth-n-nail. However you feel about growing older, we all have to face the facts. The facts are, things change. Things such as, getting out of bed in the morning, has become your physical workout for the day. Dyeing your hair is no longer done to make a fashion statement, rather a necessity. Good support means more than just moral support. Clean pipes has two meanings, and Drano can only be used to unclog one set of pipes. Vicks and BENGAY make a pleasant scent when used together: you don’t know why somebody hasn’t already bottled it. You have a child in elementary school and one in college. You forget about the one in college, as you don’t look old enough to have a kid in college. Suddenly, you watch with interest commercials about Depends undergarments. Dressing “sexy,” now means pulling your hair back so your earlobes show. After dinner mints have been replaced by Extra Strength Tums, nightly. Spare tire - not just found in your car anymore. You take offense to someone playing loud music. Then you take offense to the same person, as they don’t speak loudly enough for you to hear.

            Exercise doesn’t energize you the way it used to. You lie down on the floor to do sit-ups and you fall asleep. I swear, I was asleep no more than a minute before my husband found me. Gazing into your loved ones eyes requires you to put on your glasses. The words what and where make up a large part of your vocabulary. “Hey, kid, what is your name? I know you live here, I’m going to remember it eventually.” Where, now where did I park the car? Beverages such as Metamucil and prune juice have become your drink of choice. You believe every restaurant should have them listed on the menu. You’re accepted the fact that an iron can’t remove all wrinkles. Some wrinkles aren’t just found on your clothes anymore. Realizing you’re talking to yourself isn’t as scary as it used to be. Happily, you carry on the conversation as there is no one for you to get into an argument with. The sad part about growing older is when your husband looks into your eyes and says, ”Let’s go to bed, early, tonight.” What he really means is, let’s go to sleep, early, tonight. The saddest part however, is you know what he means and you’re so happy, you could cry.

No Shirt, No Shoes, No Clothes, No Problem

Seb Lyall, a London restaurateur, is opening a clothing optional, pop-up restaurant in London. Lyall said his dream is “true liberation,” designed with body positivity. Photography is banned. The cutlery will be edible and patrons have access to a changing room with locker before they’re seated. The tables are set up for privacy. You can only see someone’s back or silhouette or their shadows from candles. I guess we can be thankful there’s no dressing room fluorescent lighting.

When eating in the nude one doesn’t have to waste time picking out the perfect outfit. I’m such a slob when I eat that I can’t imagine eating without clothes, a bib, drop cloth or napkin. Although in this restaurant I wouldn’t place my napkin on my lap. If you’re dining with your husband and spill ketchup or mustard on yourself, instead of him offering his napkin, he’ll offer to ‘be your napkin’ and personally wipe you clean, taking his time. Spilling hot chicken soup with matzo balls can be painful and embarrassing for a man. He reaches in his lap to pick up a ball and…Oops, wrong ball.

If this restaurant has a buffet, certain risks are posed to diners. Imagine a buxom woman, hanging low, reaching for the salad dressing. She’ll wind up with dressing on her salad and her bosom.

Even though the restaurant is designed to ensure diners privacy and prevent gawking, I guarantee when one walks to the restroom there will be gawking. And, depending on the shape you’re in, you will either run or strut to the restroom.

I would advise men against taking a woman to this restaurant for a first date. When she sees her date, naked, she may swallow her drink along with her bitter disappointment. The man is puzzled when she declines a second date. On second thought, maybe dining in the nude is a great idea. One sees everything they need in order to make a clear decision.

Taking the Girls for a Drive

There’s a new surgical procedure called Insta Breast that allows women to try out temporary breast implants. The procedure can take as little as twenty minutes and cost $2,500-$3,500. A woman will have twenty-four hours to live with the breast and come to a decision. It’s like test driving a car with you wearing the airbags.

For some women the Insta Breast can be a confidence boost for attending special occasions like a wedding or high school reunion. Although, at your 50^th high school reunion it can disconcerting to watch a fellow classmate hunched over, like Quasimodo, because the breasts she’s test driving are so big and heavy they’re weighing her down. Because she’s bent in half all conversation is conducted face to navel. Luckily, she’s pinned her name tag to the back of her sweater for all to read. You read the name. Willie? No, wait, that can’t be, you read it again. Oh, it’s Millie. It’s hard reading upside down.

For some women Insta Breast can be a confidence boost, but for me it’s a dye job. I have what I call my ‘dentist dyed hair.’ Before a dental appointment I get my hair dyed. Why? The dentist and hygienist always stand over me and have a clear view of my head. I don’t want them to see that my hair is the same color as my teeth. I don’t care if they see plaque buildup, but they should not and will not see my gray hair. My vanity speaks from the dental chair.

Why, if I knew when I was going to kick the bucket I’d make an appointment with my stylist the day before to get my ‘death dyed hair.’ I don’t want to be viewed and have people whisper, “It’s a shame she let herself go; didn’t even bother to touch up her roots.” The mortification! If I wasn’t already dead, I’d die from the embarrassment. Mourners should not and will not see my gray hair. My vanity speaks –even from the grave.

Table For One

Table for One

Going to the movies alone isn’t so bad. You sit in the back and no one sees you in the dark, scarfing down popcorn.

Going out to eat alone is different. In a bright, crowded restaurant everyone sees you sitting alone at a table for two. The hostess emphasis you’re alone and will be alone the entire meal when she whisks away the other place setting.

Before cell phones one would arm themselves with dining out alone armor: books, magazines and newspapers, anything to avoid stares of pity from fellow diners. Today, with cell phones, we no longer play the charade. As long as we have our phone – I ask – are we ever really alone?

You’re one at a table for two, but thanks to your phone you can be eating (virtually) with 22 friends, family and followers. These people salivate over the chocolate cake photo you posted on Instagram. Your followers like your extra cheeses pizza and wish they weren’t lactose intolerant. Your mother sends a text, insulted because you ate all the veggies on your plate and you never eat hers. Why not? Your priest (who you didn’t know followed you) pops up and makes you feel guilty for being in a restaurant Sunday morning rather than church. He’ll pray for your soul. Your cardiologist, who is not playing golf pipes in with, “A double bacon cheeseburger? Really? You’ve got to be kidding me! Put it down and back away! Now! Eat that and you’ll wind up back on my table.” Your sister zeros in on the sweater you’re wearing and demands to know, “Is that the sweater you borrowed and told me you lost? You’re such a liar! Give it back! I never could trust you! And mom likes you best!

You’re never alone when dining (virtually) with the masses of people in your phone.

As for me, the best way to eat alone is to disconnect and read a book; at least the characters won’t badger you.

Public Humiliation

We’ve all had embarrassing moments. My most recent one was forgetting to brush my teeth before I left the house in the morning and then wondering why everybody I spoke to kept backing away. At least this time people didn’t laugh and point the way my classmates in sixth grade did when my skirt got stuck in my underwear. They all pointed and laughed as I walked to my seat. I guess I should be happy it happened before social media where it would be plastered for the world to see. Social media takes embarrassment to a whole new level.

Sometimes we’re embarrassed not for ourselves, but for others – ‘second hand embarrassment.’ You ever get embarrassed for a comedian dying on stage? You feel bad (squirming in your seat) knowing they know they’re bombing. Silence to a comedian is worse than a tomato in the face.

As part of a couple, if your spouse tells a joke and it falls flat, the embarrassment falls also on you – ‘second hand embarrassment;’ embarrassment by relation.

In a house where the bathroom is off the kitchen the stage is set for embarrassment. Tell me the genius who thought the kitchen/ bathroom combo was a good idea. It’s not. You go to a friend’s house for dinner and halfway through the meal someone dashes to the bathroom. As you’re chewing your steak you’re now being serenaded by moans and groans. You wince when you hear grunting and noises heard only from animals in the wild.  You applaud when you hear the flush, but your glee is short lived as there’s a round two. This round comes with cursing and air freshener being dispensed. Finally, the boxer emerges looking weary, but triumphant. Nobody acknowledges what went on in there. You keep eating and gradually realize you smell more than what’s on your plate. The smells wafting out from the bathroom and mingling with your food have created a rancid, overpowering stench of a cloud. People lose their appetite. Nobody wants to eat steak that smells like that. You gag with every bite. Guest offer excuses and make a hasty retreat. You, the hostess watch people run to their car and think – how many friends did this cost me? Some embarrassing moments come at a high price.

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.