Jump Into Leap Year

Posted on February 29, 2012 by pegoleg

Presented for your viewing pleasure… a pictoral salute to Leap Year.  Can you guess each picture’s connection to the day?  
Leap here to see this stuff…

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Dem Bones, Dem Bones

Posted on February 27, 2012 by pegoleg

Sittin' pretty.

You know those skeletons you see at Halloween?  It turns out they’re not just seasonal decorations.  Those are actual representations of what goes on in the human body. 

As someone who has recently lost over 60 pounds (yeah, we know, WE KNOW!  SHUT UP about it already!), I’m finding not only is there a brave new world out there, there’s a whole new world right in here.  

I did not know about these things called bones.

Do tell, Peg…

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The Jacket: A Call To Arms

Posted on February 24, 2012 by pegoleg

(Drum roll please…)

Announcing the first, ever, Peg-o-Leg writing competition!!!!!

Here’s what it’s all about.

I was strolling through the Goodwill Thrift Store a few weeks ago when I came across the great, vintage blazer pictured here.  I am all about the vintage. 

When I got it home and tried it on again, I discovered that in addition to mad style, The Jacket harbored a secret.

Hidden in the pocket was a folded slip of paper.  On that slip of paper someone had handwritten just a name –  Tom Wojciechowski.  There was also a (clean) folded Kleenex in the pocket.

Not only did I have a groovy fashion accessory, I had a mystery.  Who is Tom Wojciechowski?  Of course I immediately started working on theories.  I had 2 possible scenarios drafted and was going to write a whole series of posts on the topic, when it occurred to me that this was way too much work. 

Why not have my readers do it?

Tell me more, tell me more!

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Colon Blow: Day 5

Posted on February 23, 2012 by pegoleg

Welcome to my nightmare.

Beans, beans, the magical fruit, the more you eat, the more you toot… for most people, this is just a little ditty that school kids sing.  For me, it’s daily life.

The hubby and I and a group of friends threw a party last weekend.  It was a mid-winter beach party with a band and everything.  Each of us was supposed to bring an appetizer and a dessert and were assigned a main dish.

I got beans.

Beans, you say? Tell me more…

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Sinners & Tiaras: The Ash Wednesday Episode

Posted on February 20, 2012 by pegoleg

Some of you know my guilty secret of eternal shame; I love the show Toddlers & Tiaras.  That should clue you that I like me a little bling now and again.  Sometimes I have trouble balancing my love for the sparkly stuff with wanting to do the right thing. 

Read more. It’s the right thing.

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Move Over Bauhaus; Make Room For Bozo

Posted on February 16, 2012 by pegoleg
 

Louis 13th, Art Deco, Bauhaus, Mid-Century Modern…

It is past time the firmament of classic design welcomes a long-neglected aesthetic.  I’m referring, of course, to The Creepy Sad Clown motif.

On a recent anthropological expedition (also known as my weekly shopping trip to the Goodwill Thrift Store), I was captivated by the pictured artwork.  This painting (well, actually a print executed on realistic looking CanvasEtte) brought me back to the days when such decorative touches were commonplace.  I couldn’t help but wonder why the style fell from grace.

And I can’t help wondering what the heck you’re talking about!

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From Sea To Shining River

Posted on February 15, 2012 by pegoleg
 

What a difference a day makes.

I had been “in country” for 5 days and the Sunshine State had yet to live up to its name.    The weather ran the gamut from cloudy to drizzly to pouring down cats and dogs.  There was no time left to hope Mother Nature would come through for me – it was Saturday morning and I would be wheels-up in four, short hours.  I grabbed my dad’s car keys, left my parents sleeping and headed for the Atlantic Ocean, 10 minutes away.

The resentment I felt towards the fickle sunshine gods melted away as soon as my bare feet hit the sand.  So what if I had to wear a sweatshirt with my shorts?  At least I was wearing shorts, a fashion decision that would have resulted in frostbite from the thighs down in my home state of Illinois.  The temperature was only in the 60s, the salt water soaked my shorts and the sand scrubbed the fake tan right off my legs.  I was as happy as a clam.

A hot cup of good coffee warmed me from the inside out as I walked in the surf.  When empty, that same cup became a carrying case for the shells and pieces of coral I plucked from the surging tide.  I gazed out at the limitless horizon and for one, brief moment; the sun peaked through the clouds.  It shone down on me like a benediction.  I only had an hour on the beach before I had to head back to pack, but it was enough to put a shining cap on my trip.

Fast-forward 24 hours.

Even though I looked like a Nordic mummy in the scarf I had wrapped around my face and neck, the bitter wind found its way through the folds of cloth to slap my cheeks red.  The harsh sound of my own breathing reverberated through the echo chamber that was the deep hood of my ski jacket.

Our dog, Ace, didn’t notice the cold as he raced ahead, occasionally coming back to crash into me, full-tilt in his utter, muddy joy to be running free.

I trudged down the dirt road from our house the ¼ of a mile it took to reach a favorite and well-known destination, the banks of the Illinois River.  I stifled my own, loud breathing, as I looked over the water and for a moment the entire world was enveloped in silence.  I was reminded of a favorite quote that hangs in my mother-in-law’s home:
 

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

I’d gone from the banks of the Atlantic Ocean to the banks of the Illinois River in one, short day.  It was a bit of a shock to the system, but the joy of walking and the beauty of the water soothed and exhilarated me in both places.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t rather have the 70 degrees, however.

She picks seashells by the seashore.

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Use An Interpreter When Speaking The Language of Love

Posted on February 13, 2012 by pegoleg
 

Looking for a Valentine’s Day gift for that special someone?

Cupid meets Fear Factor

The Bronx Zoo is once again raising funds for the Wildlife Conservation Society, and you can help.  For only $10 you get to name one of the zoo’s 58,000 giant Madagascar hissing cockroaches after your own true love.

As I reported last year, I encourage you to support this worthwhile charity, but consider carefully. 

According to the zoo, nothing says “forever” like a cockroach.  According to Peg-o-leg, nothing says “The End Is Near” for your relationship like comparing your sweetie to a gigantic cockroach.

To make sure you don’t crash and burn on this, the high-holy day of love, I’ve compiled a list of common Valentine gifts and the messages they send:

Single, red rose: I stopped looking when I met you.
Single, red foil-wrapped chocolate rose: I stopped at the gas station mini-mart on the way over.

Tattoo of your name across his chest:  I’ll love you forever
Tattoo of World of Warcraft avatar babe across his chest: I’ll live in my parents’ basement forever.

Big box of chocolates: I adore you.
Big box of chocolate flavored Slim-Fast: I’d adore less of you.

Valentines Day card with mushy poem addressed to you: You’ll never know what you mean to me.
Valentines Day card with mushy poem addressed to someone else:  You’ll never know about my wife and kids in Scranton.

Scanty, satin panties:  You drive me wild, woman!
Big, cotton bloomers: You drive me to band practice, Mom.

Gift certificate for some pampering: Let’s get together and let nature take its course.
Gift certificate for some Pampers: Nature already took its course.

Diamond ring: We will spend the rest of our lives watching sunsets together.
Diamond walnuts:  We will spend the rest of the night on your couch watching “Lizard Lick Towing” together.

It’s not easy to communicate what’s in your heart.  When speaking the language of love, sometimes it’s best to bring an interpreter.

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Thursday Thoughts

Posted on February 2, 2012 by pegoleg

Just a few meanderings and housekeeping matters.

I first started writing this post last Sunday, so it was originally titled Monday Moanings.  Then I decided to go with a finished piece for Monday, and pushed this back a day.  Had I got it done in time you would have been subjected to Tuesday’s Tortured Turnings.  I finished up my glasses rant so you narrowly avoided Wednesday Whining.  Thank your lucky blog stars that I didn’t wait until tomorrow to post Friday’s Frenetic Feelings.

Some may recall I blogged about my struggles to find a decent dress for the ball last weekend (Every time I say that my brain cues the music from Cinderella, “The prince is giving a ball, the prince is giving a ball!”) and somehow managed to promise I would post a picture of moi in my sartorial splendor.  So here it is.

For some reason my hubby, Bill, had his I-phone camera set to Squatty Fuzzy Mode, but I hope you can get a feel for the sparkliness of the dress.   I was feeling bad about the tiny Asian woman who got paid $10 for 3 years’ work, hand-sewing all those beads on my (Peg) Oleg Cassini dress, but it seems she got her revenge.  She somehow sewed an invisible hump into the dress.   The fat-cat, American she-devil who bought it would think she looked swell in it, never knowing that, from the back, she looked like Quasimodo in drag.  “How do you like that, you hunchback, capitalist swine?” I could almost hear her cackling when I saw this picture.

The really important thing is to notice the miles and miles of shiny, metallic heels on those shoes.  And I wore them all night.  I did NOT kick them off, and I was standing around most of the time.  Only once did I have to knock some grandmother to the floor so I could steal her chair for a little rest for my bleeding toesies.

I think I may have had just a teeny bit too much wine at the ball, which, for all intents and purposes was a business event for me.  I’m hoping none of my major clients remember me forcing them to admire my shoes, or how I draped myself all over one CEO and said “I LOVE you, man, and I’m not just saying that!  Jeez, this dress weighs a ton.  Can I have some of your wine?”

All in all, we had a good time.

 

 

I saw my blog on the Recommended list of humor blogs for WordPress on Wednesday – can’t believe it!   I then went back to the page 2 hours later and was still there, but moving down with a bullet.  It seems to be a revolving list.  Now watch –  I’m directing everyone over there for a look-see and I will be off by now, and you’ll think I’m a liar, or delusional, or still drunk from Saturday.  Wish I could’ve figured out how to take a screenshot for my scrapbook.  This might explain my recent influx of new subscribers.  If you found me through that site, welcome!  I’m glad to have you.  Pull up a tuffet, read, comment and have fun.  

Anyhoo, I didn’t even know that the editors had recommended sites.  I’m thrilled and humbled to be/have been in such august company.  I already read some of the others on this list, and add my recommendation to the editors.   I’m not familiar with some of these blogs, but I’m going to check them out.   You should, too.

Which brings me to the point of how the interwebz can be so VAST and at the same time it is such a small world.  The longer I’m on WordPress the more I bump into some of the same folks over and over again.  The sense of “community” just keeps growing.  And that’s pretty cool.  And also pretty hokey, right there.  Sorry.

I’m going to be out of town for the next week and a half.  I’m going down to Charleston, SC to see my brother Jim and his family.  You may remember that Jim offered to wine and dine the winner of the Family Weight Loss Challenge, so I’m going down to collect.  It will be great to spend some time with Jim, my sister-in-law, Lisa (whose decision to diet right before Christmas last year inspired one of my most popular posts, My Sister-In-Law is Ruining the U.S. Economy), and my cutie-patootie nieces.

I’m also getting my teeth Zoom whitened.  I was thinking that was a good thing but thanks to the (no doubt) well-meaning advice of some who have gone through this (you know who you are.  Jane. ), it seems this may be akin to volunteering as a rack-tester for the Spanish Inquisition.  The more I think about it, the more I think grey teeth work for me.

After a few days there, I’ll rent a car and head down to the West Palm Beach, FL area to spend the rest of the week with my dear parents.  I’m really looking forward to some R&R with them.  When you come from a family of 9 kids, one-on-one time with the ‘rents is rare.

I can’t figure out how to get the interwebz anywhere but here at work, so there won’t be much Rambling going on here at my blog.  Nor reading or commenting at other blogs.  So y’all have a good time, and I’ll chat witcha later!

 

 

 

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Ride My See-Saw

Posted on February 1, 2012 by pegoleg

It occurs to me that I might need glasses.

Tonight at the Y I passed some loon on a treadmill who was making faces and flinging her arms around.  It wasn’t until I was well past her that it occurred to me that I might have known her.  By the time I got to my treadmill I realized that instead of averting my eyes from a whack-job doing an interpretive dance, I might have just snubbed my biggest client, who was smiling and waving at me. 

On the way out of the place I ran into Dan, the 25-year-old son of some of our friends.   I gave a big smile as I approached him, and called out, “Hey there, how’s it going?”  Only it wasn’t Dan.  As I got closer I could see it was just some random 25-year-old.  From the look on his face, he was not one of those guys whose fantasy is to have an older woman come on to him.  Leastwise not the red-faced specimen in the baggy sweats who was standing before him.

So I may “need” glasses.  And by “need,” I mean, “need to wear”.  I’ve had a prescription for glasses since I was 5 years old. 

There used to be a public service spot featuring Charlie Brown on TV when I was a kid.  He wore a Sherlock Holmes cap and looked through a magnifying glass while a voice-over announcer dramatically intoned, “Amblyopia: the case of the lazy eye.”  That’s what I had.

All it really meant was that I would close one eye when I was trying to look at something.  I was supposed to do eye-strengthening exercises and wear an eye-patch around the house.  Cool, right?  Wouldn’t you think I would embrace my inner pirate and walk around saying “arrr, matey”?  Nope.  Hated it!   Didn’t wear the patch and didn’t do the exercises.   Hated the glasses and lost pair after pair.

Fast-forward 40 years.  I’m nearsighted.  Because I didn’t follow the doctor’s orders when I was a kid, I now have to “wear” glasses.   And by “wear” I mean, “keep nearby in case putting them on my face is absolutely necessary”.

Between the ages of 5 and 15, “nearby” meant “probably somewhere in the house”.  What some people might refer to as “lost”.

Between the ages of 25 and 52, “nearby” meant “in the glove compartment of my car”.

The alert reader may ask “What about between the ages of 15 and 25?”  Those were the years when “needing” glasses meant just that.  I didn’t have any.  I lost so many pairs that my parents finally refused to buy any more.  It wasn’t until I was 25 and driving down a 2-lane country road in the dark in the rain that it occurred to me that I might “need” glasses in a way that meant, “cannot see little details like oncoming cars without them.”  I went to the optometrist the very next day and have been wearing glasses for night driving ever since.

I got a new pair with snazzy, blue plastic frames last year.  I keep them in my car.  I also need glasses to see the TV, so I keep my second-to-last pair, when I was rocking the frameless look, next to my chair in the living room.  Without them, the onscreen TV guide is a big blur at a whopping 5 feet away. 

Except for driving and TV, I’ve been doing OK without glasses up to now.  Little incidents like the ones at the Y, however, have been getting more frequent.  The last straw may be my recent sudoku troubles. 

I do sudoku puzzles every night before bed.  What can I say – they relax me.  I plop the World’s Most Ginormous Book O Sudokus down on my pillow, prop up on my elbows and commence with the number-fying.  Lately, however, I’ve been having trouble reading the numbers.

It looks like the moment I’ve been avoiding for 47 years has arrived at last.  I may have to break down and get the dreaded bi or even trifocals.  Not only that, I may have to actually wear them.  Damn!

Wait a minute, I just thought of something.  I think I still have the pair BEFORE the pair before the last one.  They’re not as strong as the current prescription, but if I can dig them up, I’ll just keep them on the bedside table.  Then I’ll have all my glasses-needing situations covered, without having to resort to actually “wearing” glasses all the time. 

Problem solved!

Besides, I always liked those old glasses.  There was something about them – I thought they made me look like a movie star.

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