I always ask for both paper and plastic when I check out at the supermarket. I use bags for my kitchen garbage. Sometimes, if my garbage is not too messy, I even reuse them. Now after reading this article in the NYTimes (Feb. 16, 2008)...
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/16/us/16ecomoms.html?em&ex=1203483600&en=f35a74fd3c3e7771&ei=5070
it's apparent that I need to find an ecotherapist.
It seems Tupperware parties have been replaced by Ecomom parties. I wonder if they have these events for grannies. The article reminded me of a vegan couple I met years ago. Everything they used had to be "natural" so their sorry little 5 year old used a straw backpack for school(I think they modified a fishing basket)...poor tyke.
I grew up removing the foil from stick gum wrappers, saving rubber bands and reusing everything. My parents remembered the depression and war year shortages, so I inherited that mentality. We never used paper towels (too wasteful), colored toilet paper (too extravagant). Our pillow cases were scratchy chicken feed bags that my great uncle, the chicken farmer, gave us. I vowed, that when I could afford it, I'd have matching bed linens, printed toilet paper and other extravagances. Now I guess I need shock therapy to get back to my old ways. Maybe Al Gore could find a new career as an Eco-shock therapist and I'd be his first patient (victim).
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Manicure in Tinsel Town
I'm having my nails done at my neighborhood place and in walks Mac Jones. He's about 6'10" (that's the truth) and black. He's a regular in the neighborhood. He sells knock off purses to the customers in the shops in the area for $100+ a pop. He's a real likable guy and hangs around for a bit when he's not making a sale.
Well, yesterday he walks in laughing, saying, "I dodged that bullet." Here's his story...
He had been married twice and never had children due to a low sperm count. His second wife wanted a divorce, sent him all the papers which he signed and (wrongly) assumed that he was legally divorced. He then hooked up with a Philippine woman in her mid 40s and they moved in together. I guess they didn't use birth control (remember low sperm count) and she became pregnant. They tried to get married, but he found out he was never divorced from his second wife. At 57 he was nervous about becoming a father, but was determined to do the right thing.
Back to yesterday...She had the baby, a boy, and he went to visit them in the hospital. He's hysterical laughing. It's not his baby. He points to my (Vietnamese) manicurist and says that the baby looks just like her. "The baby is Chinese" he says. My manicurist is pretending to be offended...she's not Chinese. And he continues that the baby has no black in him. This time he points to a customer saying that the baby is whiter than she is. By this time the whole shop is in hysterics. Besides, he says that the baby's "thing" (his word)”is that small”. He holds 2 fingers about 1/4 inch apart and reminds us how black men are hung.
Now, he's on a roll. He continues. Everyone in the shop has tears rolling down their faces. He's ecstatic....he's dodged the bullet.
I ask him for the baby's name. "Mac" he tells me. "What's his last name?" I ask. "Jones" he says. Sounds like that bullet boomeranged.
So all you writers who are sitting next door at Starbucks, close up your laptops and come get your nails done. Who could think this up?
Well, yesterday he walks in laughing, saying, "I dodged that bullet." Here's his story...
He had been married twice and never had children due to a low sperm count. His second wife wanted a divorce, sent him all the papers which he signed and (wrongly) assumed that he was legally divorced. He then hooked up with a Philippine woman in her mid 40s and they moved in together. I guess they didn't use birth control (remember low sperm count) and she became pregnant. They tried to get married, but he found out he was never divorced from his second wife. At 57 he was nervous about becoming a father, but was determined to do the right thing.
Back to yesterday...She had the baby, a boy, and he went to visit them in the hospital. He's hysterical laughing. It's not his baby. He points to my (Vietnamese) manicurist and says that the baby looks just like her. "The baby is Chinese" he says. My manicurist is pretending to be offended...she's not Chinese. And he continues that the baby has no black in him. This time he points to a customer saying that the baby is whiter than she is. By this time the whole shop is in hysterics. Besides, he says that the baby's "thing" (his word)”is that small”. He holds 2 fingers about 1/4 inch apart and reminds us how black men are hung.
Now, he's on a roll. He continues. Everyone in the shop has tears rolling down their faces. He's ecstatic....he's dodged the bullet.
I ask him for the baby's name. "Mac" he tells me. "What's his last name?" I ask. "Jones" he says. Sounds like that bullet boomeranged.
So all you writers who are sitting next door at Starbucks, close up your laptops and come get your nails done. Who could think this up?
Friday, November 9, 2007
NO COMMENT
The doctor who delivered one of my children, some 30+ years ago, died Tuesday. He went into the hospital for knee surgery and died a few days later.
So much for elective surgery!
So much for elective surgery!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Birthdays Doggie Style
Last night we went to a doggie birthday. The dog's owners are lesbian couple. Someone described the crowd as "eclectic"...I'll say, Actually, it was one of the best parties I've been to in ages. There were about 20 dogs, all well behaved. Most of the dogs know each other from the park.
There was a lot of food and drink for the humans. The "piece de resistance", however, was the birthday cake for the dogs...meatloaf with potato icing.
Today I'm off to my granddaughter's birthday party. I wonder what kind of cake she'll have. It better be chocolate!
There was a lot of food and drink for the humans. The "piece de resistance", however, was the birthday cake for the dogs...meatloaf with potato icing.
Today I'm off to my granddaughter's birthday party. I wonder what kind of cake she'll have. It better be chocolate!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Life In LA
Several weeks ago,my housekeeper asked for Thursday and Friday off. When I asked her why she told me she was having a boob job. When I asked her who was doing it, she told me of some Beverly Hills plastic surgeon.
When she came back on Monday, I tried to send her home. I was worried she might hurt herself. She refused. Said she was fine as long as she didn't raise her arms.Promised me she'd be careful. Never complained.
She looks terrific. If I weren't so afraid of doctors, I'd ask her for a referral. Incidentally, she often rides her motorcycle to work. I think I was in the wrong profession.
When she came back on Monday, I tried to send her home. I was worried she might hurt herself. She refused. Said she was fine as long as she didn't raise her arms.Promised me she'd be careful. Never complained.
She looks terrific. If I weren't so afraid of doctors, I'd ask her for a referral. Incidentally, she often rides her motorcycle to work. I think I was in the wrong profession.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
How Bad Is This?
I have a friend with A LOT of money. She's a good person. Wouldn't hurt a fly. All of her children are dead. Her husband is dead. Her remaining relatives have abandoned her. The few that haven't, probably want her $$$$.
Today, I helped her start to get her affairs in order. Her holdings are all over the place and are difficult to manage. Today we got started putting them in one place. This is a painful task for me, reminiscent of doing this for my mother.
My friend is old. She is overwhelmed and seems scattered. Actually, she has all her marbles. She's hard of hearing and misses a lot, so she seems senile.
I was with her for 5 hours today, trying to start to get her affairs in order, a daunting task. We made a lot of headway today. We got the process started.
So how does a good person end up having all her children and her husband die? How does she end up being vulnerable to the vultures circling her nest egg?
Next time anyone says, "What goes around, comes around," I'm going to deck them.
Today, I helped her start to get her affairs in order. Her holdings are all over the place and are difficult to manage. Today we got started putting them in one place. This is a painful task for me, reminiscent of doing this for my mother.
My friend is old. She is overwhelmed and seems scattered. Actually, she has all her marbles. She's hard of hearing and misses a lot, so she seems senile.
I was with her for 5 hours today, trying to start to get her affairs in order, a daunting task. We made a lot of headway today. We got the process started.
So how does a good person end up having all her children and her husband die? How does she end up being vulnerable to the vultures circling her nest egg?
Next time anyone says, "What goes around, comes around," I'm going to deck them.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
More From The Health Club
This is from the past....
I sit on a an exercise bike in a remote corner, far from the spandex and the meat market, with my head buried in a book. I am clearly autistic or trying to be. My body language says, "Go away." Somehow this posture seems to invite people to my side. Not only do they talk to me, but they tell me their problems and ask ME (of all people) for advice. You must understand that I, at my ripe old age, am still trying to figure out how to get thru my life somewhat gracefully.
So here's one sad tale. A very overweight woman (in spandex) tells me that her husband of 30 plus years has decided he's gay and has taken up with a 20 something year old. She is distraught, confused, hurt, etc. What she finds odd though is that her sex life has improved since her husband has taken up with this young man. She would like to know what I would do under the circumstances. I tell her that I would not be having sex with her husband, but if she felt she must, I advised her to wear a full body wet suit. Wouldn't you think my remark would send her far away from me? Wrong. I became her new best therapist. Go figure!
I sit on a an exercise bike in a remote corner, far from the spandex and the meat market, with my head buried in a book. I am clearly autistic or trying to be. My body language says, "Go away." Somehow this posture seems to invite people to my side. Not only do they talk to me, but they tell me their problems and ask ME (of all people) for advice. You must understand that I, at my ripe old age, am still trying to figure out how to get thru my life somewhat gracefully.
So here's one sad tale. A very overweight woman (in spandex) tells me that her husband of 30 plus years has decided he's gay and has taken up with a 20 something year old. She is distraught, confused, hurt, etc. What she finds odd though is that her sex life has improved since her husband has taken up with this young man. She would like to know what I would do under the circumstances. I tell her that I would not be having sex with her husband, but if she felt she must, I advised her to wear a full body wet suit. Wouldn't you think my remark would send her far away from me? Wrong. I became her new best therapist. Go figure!
Monday, October 1, 2007
From The Past
I have been to the health club a few times this past week, but have nothing new to report. I'm too busy just trying to get out. I hate it there, but I'm determined to put in a month or two...fighting gravity and all afflictions of an aging body.
But here is some old news from previous visits. This should explain why I hate it there so much. While getting undressed for the shower, (humiliated by the state of my sagging and expanding body) I got to witness two naked lesbians making out...hot and heavy they were. I left for the shower before they escalated. Now, do you think I should have to witness this in my old age?
And yes, dear daughter, a lot of these surgeries are south of the border, invisible to the naked eye, but talked about as the latest and greatest.
Stay tuned for more health club stories. Some you just won't believe.
But here is some old news from previous visits. This should explain why I hate it there so much. While getting undressed for the shower, (humiliated by the state of my sagging and expanding body) I got to witness two naked lesbians making out...hot and heavy they were. I left for the shower before they escalated. Now, do you think I should have to witness this in my old age?
And yes, dear daughter, a lot of these surgeries are south of the border, invisible to the naked eye, but talked about as the latest and greatest.
Stay tuned for more health club stories. Some you just won't believe.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
IT'S NOT A PRETTY PICTURE
...getting old that is. After years away from the health club, I rejoined, but not happily. You see, my husband (who LOVES exercise) wanted to join the club. It was cheaper to have me rejoin and bring him in as a member than to have him join as a new member. So here I am, the very reluctant exerciser. It's month to month, so I only have to pay for one month and then I can drop out.
The women at the club are mostly young and fit. They arrive wearing make-up and fancy tight fitting workout clothes. I feel like an aged beached whale. Clearly, this is not good for my self esteem. But, I'll do it for a month (I'll be out of town for a week of it). I can't stand wasting the $$$$.
Here's the real depressing part. I've gained about 3 pounds since I've started. Don't tell me it's muscle, it's fat.
Now here's the good part. The locker room is a wonderful place to learn about the new plastic surgeries (there are some we don't want to know about) and what these ladies lives are about (you can't imagine).
Stay posted.....
The women at the club are mostly young and fit. They arrive wearing make-up and fancy tight fitting workout clothes. I feel like an aged beached whale. Clearly, this is not good for my self esteem. But, I'll do it for a month (I'll be out of town for a week of it). I can't stand wasting the $$$$.
Here's the real depressing part. I've gained about 3 pounds since I've started. Don't tell me it's muscle, it's fat.
Now here's the good part. The locker room is a wonderful place to learn about the new plastic surgeries (there are some we don't want to know about) and what these ladies lives are about (you can't imagine).
Stay posted.....
Friday, September 7, 2007
I'm Back!
It's been a hell of a month or so. Everything was turned upside down. Just wading my way out of a lot of disasters. No sense posting whiny blogs...too boring.
Also, my daughter's barbs have been directed elsewhere. How can I defend myself without an attack????
How weird is it for a mother and daughter to do this sorting out with blogs. In case anyone out there (all 3 readers????) take these hi-tech fisticuffs too seriously, be warned that we start with some truth and run with it. It's just too much fun this way.
Also, my daughter's barbs have been directed elsewhere. How can I defend myself without an attack????
How weird is it for a mother and daughter to do this sorting out with blogs. In case anyone out there (all 3 readers????) take these hi-tech fisticuffs too seriously, be warned that we start with some truth and run with it. It's just too much fun this way.
Friday, August 10, 2007
I Hope She Takes Her Computer!
My daughter is going away for a week. If she doesn't take her computer, we will have to put these dueling blogs on hold for a week. This is truly an insane way to communicate with your family, but I'm hooked.
Now let's get something straight about hippie parenting. I was too old to be a hippie. Except for the five years I took off from work to try to be a mother, I was a working stiff all day and went to school some nights and summers. I was trying to get more credits to boost my salary. Hippies didn't do that.
Actually, I was jealous. I was a wanna-be...a spectator. I had too many responsibilities. I was just loosey-goosey on weekends and free time.
Yes, I believed that if you couldn't pronounce it, you shouldn't eat it. That kind of got blown away with the Mrs. Gooch's and MM scandal, but that's another chapter.
I have to agree that you did not have a typical upbringing...think about the police digging up yards around the corner from our house looking for dead rabbits. What's a kid supposed to think about that?
I'm truly sorry for the past. I was trying to be different from my parents. I think you are doing a much, much better job than I did...and that's the truth.
Keep it up and stay married.
Now let's get something straight about hippie parenting. I was too old to be a hippie. Except for the five years I took off from work to try to be a mother, I was a working stiff all day and went to school some nights and summers. I was trying to get more credits to boost my salary. Hippies didn't do that.
Actually, I was jealous. I was a wanna-be...a spectator. I had too many responsibilities. I was just loosey-goosey on weekends and free time.
Yes, I believed that if you couldn't pronounce it, you shouldn't eat it. That kind of got blown away with the Mrs. Gooch's and MM scandal, but that's another chapter.
I have to agree that you did not have a typical upbringing...think about the police digging up yards around the corner from our house looking for dead rabbits. What's a kid supposed to think about that?
I'm truly sorry for the past. I was trying to be different from my parents. I think you are doing a much, much better job than I did...and that's the truth.
Keep it up and stay married.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
My Daughter's Blog
Check out my daughter's blog at:
http://suedoenim.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html
You'll understand my Mea Culpa if you read her blog about denial. Maybe we should write a book?
http://suedoenim.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html
You'll understand my Mea Culpa if you read her blog about denial. Maybe we should write a book?
Mea Culpa
This is a response to my daughter's blog about DENIAL.
So I sewed clothes and drank jug wine. It was the beach. It was the 70's. Less dangerous than some of the things you did.
Oh, and about the house with the seance, it was up for sale. It was a beautiful house. I just should have had it exorcised.
What you forgot to mention is that in that tony little neighborhood our neighbors were worthy of a book or two. On one side lived a black woman (probably the only black in our town) running a house of prostitution and on the other side was a raging communist whose husband died in the Spanish Civil War.
Beat the house before that where our neighbor was a convicted murderer who left his country to escape jail. Odd thing about it all....they were all wonderful neighbors.
So I sewed clothes and drank jug wine. It was the beach. It was the 70's. Less dangerous than some of the things you did.
Oh, and about the house with the seance, it was up for sale. It was a beautiful house. I just should have had it exorcised.
What you forgot to mention is that in that tony little neighborhood our neighbors were worthy of a book or two. On one side lived a black woman (probably the only black in our town) running a house of prostitution and on the other side was a raging communist whose husband died in the Spanish Civil War.
Beat the house before that where our neighbor was a convicted murderer who left his country to escape jail. Odd thing about it all....they were all wonderful neighbors.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Life and Death
Death---too many life and death issues for too many people I know these past two weeks. Life is unfair, but not to me. My husband played Russian Roulette (not with a gun) with his life and and got lucky. He's still here.
Life---Meet my grandkids. Thing One will hereafter referred to as TWMLE (The World's Most Lovable Extortionist) and Thing Two hereafter known as MM (Mystery Man). They are life.
More to follow....
Life---Meet my grandkids. Thing One will hereafter referred to as TWMLE (The World's Most Lovable Extortionist) and Thing Two hereafter known as MM (Mystery Man). They are life.
More to follow....
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
First Blog of an Aging Mother/Grandmother
This blog is in response to my daughter's blog. It seems that we are truly a virtual family. Apparently, I'm amusing. I always thought I was grumpy. So here goes the beginning of my rebuttals. This could be quite a ride.
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