Americans Are Healthcare Weenies

Posted on January 30, 2012 by pegoleg

Does this sound familiar?

           “Ow, I broke my leg, I need a doctor!” 
                            or
           “I think I’m having a stroke. I’d better get to the hospital!” 
                            or
           “There’s an ice-pick sticking out of my eye – somebody call an ambulance!”

Doctors? Ambulances? Hospitals?  Sounds to me like the anthem for America’s independence going down the drain.

The problem with healthcare in America is not insurance companies.  It’s not doctors or hospitals.  It’s not even the government sticking (or not sticking) its collective nose into our healthcare business.

The problem with healthcare is that Americans have lost the can-do, self-reliant attitude that made our country great.   No wonder we’re drowning in medical bills.  We’ve turned into a nation of weenies!

“What else can I do?” you may ask.  I’m glad you asked.

Reclaim your self-reliance with MedicZoom from Peg-Co,  the ultimate source for do-it-yourself healthcare!

Your subscription to MedicZoom gives you 24/7 access to our online, state-of-the-art self-diagnosis tool.   Answer a simple series of specially designed yes/no questions and make your way through the patented MedicZoom Diagnostic Decision Tree.  It’s just that easy! 

Here’s an example:

 

With just 3, short questions, the patented MedicZoom Diagnostic Decision Tree has you well on the way to figuring out what’s wrong.  Wow!

Subjects experienced an 82% success rate for correct diagnoses in marketing trials. *  I’d like to see any doctor match that!

The OR Simulator will have you ready to cut in no time!

Once you’ve pinpointed your problem area, you’re ready for treatment.  If surgery is indicated – no worries!  As soon as you enroll, we’ll rush your Official Welcome Kit.  One of its key components is the revolutionary Operating Room Simulator.  This highly technical, state-of-the-art piece of machinery will guide you through the safe removal of most common, diseased body parts. 

We recommend that you do a couple of practice runs before the actual operation.  The OR Simulator’s harsh buzzer and flashing lights will go off if you get too near a vital body part (say, a major artery).  This really reinforces your training.  You’ll feel prepared to tackle the real thing in a jiffy!

A starter pack of 5 syringes is included in your Welcome Kit so you can administer the local anesthetic recommended for most procedures.  If general anesthesia is indicated, MedicZoom suggests teaming up with a Surgery Buddy.

And after surgery?  Your recovery is sure to be smooth and pain-free when you use your pre-signed pad of 25 prescriptions to score some Percocet.   A quick check of the MedicZoom.com Online Pharmacy Reference Library tells you what you need to prescribe just the right pill to fix yourself up.  After all, who knows you better than you?  (Important note: anyone prescribing pain narcotics for themselves must solemnly promise that they do NOT have a substance abuse problem, and do not intend the narcotics for resale.)

Don’t delay – act now to make MedicZoom your partner for do-it-yourself healthcare.  Because when it’s time to take out a wrenched ankle, you don’t need some doctor taking out your wallet as well. 

Operators are standing by!

*Any advice given by MedicZoom is more in the nature of a semi-informed opinion, and is not intended as medical advice.  Patients/consumers make their own decisions as to diagnoses and treatment.  Statements given here have not been evaluated for accuracy. Resultant incidents of cuts, contusions, boo-boos or deadness are not the responsibility of MedicZoom, Peg-O-Leg Industries or Peg-Co.

Posted in General Ramblings, Peg-Co Catalog | Tagged , , , , , | 57 Comments

I Am The Secret Love Child of Erma Bombeck and Dave Barry

Posted on January 25, 2012 by pegoleg

A kind reader recently commented that I reminded her of Erma Bombeck.  That is a sure route to my heart as she was (and remains) one of my favorite comedy writers.  It reminded me that many new readers may not have been around when this explosive story broke early last year.

I think I have my dad's chin.

I’m tired of living a lie.  I’ve kept quiet as long as I could, but the time has come to speak out.  I suspect I am the secret love child of Dave Barry and Erma Bombeck.

I have long thought that my “parents” weren’t really my PARENTS.  They are worthy people, no doubt.  They can actually be pretty funny at times, but without that rapier-like writing wit that must, must be my heritage.  I feel it in my bones!

My quest for the truth started in earnest when I began this blog last year.   “You remind me of Dave Barry,” someone said.  “You remind me of Erma Bombeck,” someone else said.   Coincidence?  Empty flattery?  My own delusions of writing grandeur?  I think not.

Surely this must mean that their blood flows in my veins!

I know what you’re thinking.  Given the fact that he’s not much older than I am, Dave must have been a rather precocious child.  To which I reply – who are you to judge him?

I’m not going to delve into Dave and Erma’s relationship.  That is their business.  I’m sure they had their reasons.  I ask that all of you respect my parents’ privacy and not indulge in sleazy speculation. 

I don’t want to hurt anyone by this revelation.  My foster parents, Bill and Mary (as I now call them), couldn’t have been more wonderful if I had truly been one of their own. (Although Bill and Mary aren’t big on the internet, I’m sure some “helpful” foster-sibling will bring this post to their attention in a blatant attempt to have me cut out of their will.  I’m hoping this testimonial is enough to at least get me through the door at the next family event.)

All I want is the truth, and my just desserts after more than 50 years of silence.

To their acknowledged families I say, I’m not looking for fame or money. I don’t want a share of anybody’s estate (although many would say that was my due.)  All I want is a chance to get to know my real family.  My roots.

It is sad that I will never meet Erma Bombeck.  The world lost a truly gifted writer when she passed.  From all accounts, she was also a genuinely nice person.

But there’s still time for Dave Barry and me to get to know one another.   We can have a meaningful relationship in our remaining years.    And so I ask, if you’re reading this, Dave……

Dad……..

Can I borrow the keys to the Miami Herald tonight?

p.s. I sent a link to my blog to Dave Barry when I first posted this – he shouldn’t be the last to know – and he was generous enough to send the following reply:

Dear Peg --Thanks! Erma and I are very proud. Best, Dave Barry

What a fun guy!  Dear old dad…(fond sigh)

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , | 68 Comments

T-Shirtable Quote Of The Week

Posted on January 24, 2012 by pegoleg

 

Personal Grooming Division

 

Posted in T-Shirtable Quote | Tagged , , , , | 27 Comments

Little Gratitude: A Guest Post

Posted on January 20, 2012 by pegoleg

Today I am privileged to be guest posting over at the blog of oh, so talented writer/blogger Deborah Bryan at The Monster In Your Closet.

Deborah’s writing is clear and compelling as she talks about life with her adorable son and loving partner, her struggles in her youth and with the death of her mother, her passion for the rights of others…all this combines to make her a woman worth knowing.  Not only that, she leavens all this serious stuff with a decent helping of true goofiness, so you know that got me on board.   I first met Deb when her hysterical post about read-walking was Freshly Pressed.

Deborah has an ongoing series of posts titled “For This I Am Thankful” and I am humbled to have been asked to contribute.

My offering, “Little Gratitude“, is far from my usual tongue-in-cheek giggle-fest, so I’m feeling a bit exposed with my heart laid bare for all to see.  

Please go visit Deborah’s blog and read my post.  Then, make a cup of hot chocolate (fat-free), put on your jammies, snuggle down in a comfy chair and stay to check out Deb’s brain and the offerings of all the other wonderful FTIAT contributors.  I am honored to be in their company.

Posted in Guest Post - Playing Musical Blogs | Tagged , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

An Apology from A Bloggy Scab

Posted on January 19, 2012 by pegoleg

WordPress leaders fight for our rights to consume mass quantities!

I am a scab, and I’m sorry.

Yesterday was supposed to be a total internet blackout in support of an issue that is vital to all of us.  Google, Wikipedia, WordPress and many other sites, big and small, blacked out their normal content and dedicated themselves to spreading awareness and spurring action on this topic. 

For those who are still as uninformed as I was a mere 24 hours ago, here’s the issue before us: SOPAPILLAS.

I’m not ashamed to say I didn’t know what that word meant.  Because it is only through ignorance that true knowing can come forward as a result of de-ignorancing.

I first went to Wikipedia for some information on SOPAPILLAS.  But they were blacked out.  Duh!

I next went to Merriam-Webster .  This is my go-to, online source for definitions because they are first-rate, and not just because my husband’s family is cousins with Noah Webster somewhere back on the family tree.

Merriam-Webster was not blacked out so I was able to get this definition:

Sopapilla: (Spanish spelling Sopaipilla) a usually puffy piece of deep-fried dough often sweetened with honey.

Sounds yummy, right?  Who could be opposed to these?

And yet, some people are.

I’m a little fuzzy on the details because I’m too busy for exhaustive research.  As near as I can tell, the controversy revolves around one of the following issues:

  1. Non-union workers are producing these pillows of puffy delight
  2. The sweet morsels are being unfairly taxed without representation
  3. There is blatant food discrimination against Our Southern Brothers Who May Or May Not Be In The Country Without Technically Official Permission But Still Deserve To Eat Fried Breads
  4. Evil politicians (Republicans, all, in bed with Halliburton) are trying to limit our access to elephant ears with Latin flair, because Americans are getting too fat and they can’t figure out how to tax all that blubber – yet.

Although Merriam-Webster wasn’t blacked out, I noticed from the ads that pop-up there like dandelions after a spring rain (as they do everywhere on the web), that Netflix is firmly behind the movement.  They limited their ads to really, really serious movies featuring evil politicians played by Robert Redford, Sean Penn and other committed actors who are seriously and firmly opposed to evil, Republican, Halliburton-mother-lovin’ politicians.

All I can say in my defense is that I did not know anything about this.  I was clueless until yesterday when I read blogs by my more “politically aware” fellow-bloggers.  Lots of them used their blogs as powerful forums to highlight the importance of this issue using tools supplied by WordPress:  a black armband across their blogs, or a total blackout that referenced information on the topic.

I feel just awful about crossing a bloggy picket line, something I would NEVER do in real life.  So that is why I am taking the opportunity today to add my 2-cents-worth to help such a worthy cause.

You must believe me when I say I would never have posted such a frivolous piece of fluff as I did yesterday had I known beforehand about this important event. 

I wouldn’t have wasted bloggy gold like my What’s In a Name? A Case For Hoarders post (Just click on the link to check it out, in case you missed it), if I knew that none of the Freshly Pressed gurus were going to read it.  They were all out of the office, down at the capitol marching around carrying signs and eating fried, honey-dipped goodness right in the faces of the evil conservative politicians who want to stop them from exercising their 5th commandment right to civil disobedience.  Frankly, Hoarders is just too good of a post to waste like that.

This also explains why my reader stats yesterday were more abysmally stinky than a toddler’s Pampers after a committed grunt-fest.

I urge you to contact your elected person who goes to Washington and tell them you are opposed to whatever they are doing about this issue.  Or in favor of it.  I’m not sure which is the correct position.  It’s like those questions on standardized tests where they ask “Should Johnny have not gone on the train traveling 60 miles per hour…“ where you know the material but the double negative has you wasting 10 minutes trying to figure out EXACTLY what they’re asking.

Just click on this link ourelectedpersonsinwashington.org.  Well, I’m not sure exactly where you go, but I think the address is something like that.  All I know is that the “.org” part is very important.  If you use “.com”, you may end up at a filthy porn site involving farm animals that some sickos set up because they think tricking freedom-loving people who are concerned with important topics is funny.

In conclusion, let me go on record as being passionately opposed to any effort by a tyrannical government to limit our access to these delicious bits of fried freedom.

Viva Sopapillas!

Obligatory serious disclaimer: I know that SOPA/PIPA is a serious subject.  I am not in favor of censorship of the internet.  I am, however, in favor of censoring what children can see, and am in favor of limiting what can be accessed online at libraries and other public and publicly funded places.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 49 Comments

What’s In A Name? A Case For Hoarders

Posted on January 18, 2012 by pegoleg

An antique dealer strikes gold in the museum.

It seems to me that people consider hoarding a BAD thing, ever since that TV show, Hoarders, started running on A&E.  I don’t see it that way. 

Hoarding can be a fun and rewarding hobby.  The problem is that the term “hoarder” has acquired such a negative connotation.  We can solve this merely by substituting a more positive title.  Instead of “hoarder”, why not call the passionate collector an…

Animal Lover:  If giving shelter to 93 cats doesn’t scream animal lover, I don’t know what does.  Same for that lady who provides a refuge for millions of homeless cockroaches.

Conservationist:  Think of the tons of waste that are kept out of our nation’s landfills when people choose to store their trash in their bedrooms.

Collector:  Most hoarders have a fixation on a particular collectible i.e. Beanie Babies, broken ceiling fans or Tupperware.  You have to admire their single-minded drive to acquire more of their chosen collectible.  One lady on the show had a collection of angels.  She couldn’t pass by anything at the thrift store that had an angel on it.  Also anything that had wings, feathers, or started with the letter “a”.

Museum Curator:  See “Collector” for a description of some of the interesting stuff these curators are preserving for posterity.  They should charge admission to their homes (providing patrons can get the front door open).

Mountain Climber:  The hoarder gets a great cardiovascular workout every time she has to scale Mount Trash to get to the corner of the broom closet where she sleeps.

Recycler:  Everything is reused, because nothing is thrown out.  Nothing.  Ever.

Orienteer:  Navigating through narrow paths surrounding by towering mountains (of stuffed bunnies in ruffled dresses); using nothing but a compass and instinct to reach your goal (the hotplate, the only working appliance in the house, which is hidden under a teetering pile of dirty dishes) – this sounds like the stuff of merit badges, not fodder for ridicule.

Librarian:  Preserving every Reader’s Digest Condensed Books ever published is a service to all mankind.

Antiquarian:  There has to be some treasure hiding among all that junk, if only you can unearth it.  Several other reality shows have sprung up based on this premise, with dealers picking through the hoarder’s stuff for profit.

Historian:  The hoarder can tell the riveting history of almost every item in their collection, like whether they went with the kiddie Mac-burger or kiddie Mac-nuggets in order to land their coveted prize.  

Archaeologist:  No need to go to Egypt.  The hoarder’s home is a gold mine for scientific inquiry.  Where else can you analyze a core sample of the 2 feet of filth covering someone’s bathroom floor, and determine exactly what he had to eat for lunch on May 5, 1997? 

There you have it.  If we remove all the judgment-laden verbiage from our dialogue, maybe this fascinating hobby and those who pursue it will finally get the respect they so richly deserve.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to dash.  It’s 50% off yellow-tagged items at the Goodwill today and I need to get down there before all the good stuff is snapped up.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 52 Comments

Ding Dong, The Twinkie’s Dead

Posted on January 16, 2012 by pegoleg

Twinkie The Kid gets it through the heart.

The food industry was shocked last week when giant Hostess Brands Inc. announced they were declaring bankruptcy.

The baker, best known for such snacks as the iconic Twinkie, seeks reorganization under Chapter 11 as it struggles to come up with enough bread to meet union obligations and service its mountain of debt, estimated at $860 million. 

Hostess had previously declared bankruptcy in 2004, and just emerged from that reorganization in 2009.  At that time, industry analysts had said it was dollars to Donettes that the reorganization would have any lasting effect without deep cuts in expenses, primarily crippling labor costs, which are filling the balance sheet with more red than a jelly donut.  Analysts say their prior bankruptcy has led to an increased cost of borrowing, leading to more debt and creating a Sno Ball effect on company finances.

President Stan Leaven had this to say: “Our inability to raise the dough needed to service our debt forced us to take this step.  The biggest problem is dealing with 12 labor unions’ constant demands for an ever-increasing piece of the pie.  Trying to reason with them is as useless as Dunkin Stix in a bucket of water to start a fire.  We sweetened the deal on our counter offer to their unreasonable demands, and what was their response? Ho Ho.”

That got a rise out of the head of the Bakery, Confectionery, Tobacco Workers and Grain Millers International Union (BCTGM), Fred Crisco, who replied, “Instead of blaming everything on labor, President Leaven should be buttering us up.  Leaven has some crust asking our members to contribute toward their own health insurance.  Our salaries (excluding benefits and lifetime pension and health insurance for anyone who has ever worked here) are a modest fraction of total expenses.  That’s just icing on the cake compared to management’s lavish salaries.  And the 4% cost of living increase they proposed is nothing but crumbs from management’s table.”

 “Trading Zingers won’t get us out of this mess.” Leaven said ryely,  “It’s time for labor and management to work together or soon we’ll be out of the pan and into the fire.”

One reporter asked the union head, “Wouldn’t it be better to make modest concessions, rather than lose all these jobs when yet another American manufacturer is forced to close up shop and move overseas to stay competitive?”

Crisco replied, “Labor is what makes this company great.  Instead of blaming everything on us, Leaven should work to eliminate the triple layers of management who just sponge off the company.  If I brought a raw deal like what they propose to my members, it would fall flat as a pancake.”

At a follow-up question by the same reporter asking what the heck tobacco was doing in with the food industries in the BCTGM, Union boss Crisco said, “Mind your own Ps and Suzy Qs.”

Pundits agree; no matter how you slice it, with two bankruptcies in 10 years, if Hostess survives this it will be a Wonder.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 83 Comments

Love/Hate Relationship: One Woman’s Search For A Dress

Posted on January 12, 2012 by pegoleg

 

The saloon girl and octogenarian communities' one stop frock shop.

One of the worst things about losing a lot of weight is that nothing fits anymore.

Ha ha ha! 

Good one, eh?  But, seriously.  One of the very BEST things about losing a lot of weight is that you have to get all new clothes. 

(If you haven’t been hanging around my blog for a while, you may not have heard me going on and on, ad nauseam, about how I lost almost 60 pounds this year.  Feel free to check out posts in the category Biggest Loser: Family Edition) 

I’ve got a big, fancy charity ball to go to in a few weeks so I need a really special dress.  We go to this shindig every year.  The ball itself is fun, but getting ready for it has historically been…not so much.  Shopping for clothes when you’re plus size is a gut-wrenching nightmare, as any fatty can tell you.  The best you can hope for is something that won’t make you fall to the floor, right there in the store, kicking and screaming in a mad, sad tantrum of rage.  Most of that rage is inwardly directed, with some left over for the clothing vendors who appear to be sadistic bastards.  Want something elegant and just a touch sexy for a special occasion?  Let me direct you to the First Circle of Hell Boutique.  I have their Frequent Shoppers Card.

Now that I’m normal size, I thought it would be a snap to find a great dress.   Not so.  I still have some “fit issues”.  Worse than that, it appears they only make dressy dresses in 2 categories now: 16-year-old-dance-hall-floozy-in-training/prom dresses, or the Methuselah Collection.  The 60-year age gap between these two target markets is a vast and arid wardrobe wasteland.  Apparently women in their 50s don’t need fancy dresses.

Having struck out at the store, last night I delved into the hinterlands of my own closet.  I knew I had some wardrobe favorites packed away from the years before I started shopping at Omar the Tent Makers.

I didn’t come up with a ball gown, but I found a veritable treasure trove of memories there, safety nestled in dry cleaner bags.  There was my wedding dress, tucked between the pink bridesmaid’s dress from my sister Terry’s wedding and the fragile, old, ivory christening gown that each of my girls wore. 

There were several other dresses back there that would have no obvious significance to anyone besides me, and which instantly transported me back in time. 

–         From 33 years ago: an ivory, spaghetti-strap, jersey halter dress with tiny, violet butterflies that I wore to a friend’s wedding the summer before my senior year in college.  They were the first of our group to get married.  I lived near campus for an internship that year, rode my bike everywhere and spent my spare time at the gym.  I could crack walnuts with my butt-cheeks (not part of my job description, FYI).  At that age, youth and zest for life were the only accessories needed.

–         From 25 years ago:  a black, velvet cocktail dress with little puff sleeves, fitted bodice and ribbon belt.  I wore it the New Year’s Eve hubby Bill and I spent at an elegant hotel in downtown Chicago.  We ate lobster and drank champagne and danced the night away.  The next day we braved the Windy City’s frigid, blustery worst to walk the deserted streets and stopped in at the Billy Goat Tavern.  They were closed, but the iconic owner let us in to warm up and have a Pepsi (no Coke there, as everyone knows) with his family, who were gathered for a party.

–         From 20 years ago: a little black dress with jet beads on its cap sleeves.  I bought it because it fit like a dream, and made me feel sexy and sophisticated.  All I needed was a reason to wear it.  That ended up being a special, get-away weekend out of town for Bill and me.  The occasion?  We had just found out we would be welcoming our second child, daughter Gwen, in a little over 6 months.   We treated ourselves to a fabulously expensive meal at a French restaurant, and then went to a tiny club to listen to good jazz.  I was only half joking when I told everyone the main reason for the trip was to give that dress an outing before I was “great with child”.   I never worn it again. 

What each of these dresses had in common was simply this: when I wore them I felt beautiful.  That’s a powerful and rare feeling in a woman’s life.  At least in this woman’s life.

I tried the dresses on in front of my bedroom mirror.  Or I should say I tried to get them on.  Anyone looking in the room would have thought from my contortions that I was engaged in a life-and-death struggle with an anaconda.  I couldn’t get any of  them zipped, and was forced to admit the truth:  I will never wear these again.  Not even if I drop 20 more pounds.  My parts just don’t fit into the material the way they once did. 

The fact is that this will never be the same body it was.  I’ve got 20+ years and 2 kids under my belt – literally.  And I’m ok with that.   I am not the same person as I was then, or at least not the same version of myself.  The sad thing would be if I hadn’t changed and grown over the years.  The outside just reflects the inner change. 

This is where I should say that I got rid of those useless clothes, choosing to declutter my closet and liberate my life.   Nope.   I carefully wrapped each back in its plastic shroud, climbed over the old boots and dust bunnies and put the memories back where they belong.

After I’m gone and my girls are cleaning out my closet, they’ll recognize the wedding and christening gowns as special.  What about these 3 dresses?  For me, the memories waft off these bits of fabric, more potent than the most costly perfume.  My kids won’t be able to breathe those in.  These clothes will be thrown in the Goodwill pile and their significance will die with me.  Until then, I like knowing that little pieces of my history are there, ready to transport me back in time.

 Did you think I was going to just leave you there, wallowing in maudlin sentiment?  Nah.  This story has an upbeat ending.  I found a beautiful, blue and silver, short dress with so many sparkly beads and sequins on it I’m going to have to pass out sunglasses with each view.   It’s a vintage, Oleg Cassini which only adds to my joy since one of my sister Lib’s nicknames for me is Peg-o-leg Cassini. The dress was barely used by a little old lady who only wore it to church.  At least she was going to wear it to church, but didn’t end up going.  The thing weighs about 20 pounds and she couldn’t get up out of her rocker in it.  For a moment I felt bad when I thought about some sweatshop worker toiling over a guttering candle for thousands of hours to sew on all these sequins and bugle beads, probably for pennies.  Then the great deal I got on the dress cheered me right up.

(This would be a perfect place for a tie-in comment about how I’ll be looking back and sighing about THIS dress in my closet in another 20 years when my boobs actually do reach my knees, except this dress won’t be in my closet. It’s so damn heavy it would break the closet rod.)

I also got glass slippers*, so I’m all set for the ball!

All I need is proper transportation – anybody got a pumpkin and some mice they can lend me? 

* In the interest of full disclosure, the shoes are actually acrylic, but glass is a better fit for the metaphor I’m going with.   Excuse me if I take a little poetic license here.

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 70 Comments

52 Is Not 22

Posted on January 9, 2012 by pegoleg

A working knowledge of science and "lower" math is so helpful in life.

I am 52-years-old.  That means that I have also been 22-years-old.   If you have not yet experienced both, believe me when I tell you that 52 is not 22.  In fact, the two ages barely speak the same language. 

Here are just a few examples of how the same words can mean entirely different things depending on your age:

The Law of Gravity

  • at 22: g = 9.81 m/s2
  • at 52: For every Spanx Booty-Booster Bodysuit (with the Lycra-Lift-&-Separate-Posterior-Panel), there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Highlights

  • at 22: blonde streaks in the hair caused by the sun; enhanced by the application of a little lemon juice.
  • at 52: blonde streaks in the hair caused by the hairdresser; enhanced by the application of Clairol Nice & Easy Frost & Tip in Lemon Blonde. 

Tan

  • at 22: a honey-gold tint to the skin acquired by spending time in the sun.
  • at 52: why, oh why did 22-year-old me not listen to all that crap about sunscreen?

Period of mourning

  • at 22: A time of grief following the death of a loved one.
  • at 52: A time of grief following shopping for bathing suits.  Aka: summer.

Retirement

  • at 22: Something that old people do when they stop working
  • at 52: Something that I will never be able to do because of all the old people who have stopped working.

Party Hearty

  • at 22: Friday night: Dance and drink until 2 in the morning, then spend the rest of the night in front of the toilet.
  • at 52: Friday night: Dine and drink until 2 glasses of wine, then spend the rest of the night in front of the TV (in my jammies).

Hot

  • at 22: My toned, tan, tight self.
  • at 52: My sweaty, red, menopausal self.

The Future

  • at 22: A bright and shining highway of possibilities, stretching endlessly before me.
  • at 52: A highway constantly under construction, subject to 10-car pileups and unplanned detours.  While away the travel time singing along with the radio, talking and laughing  (pick travel buddies carefully).  Frequent stops to pay tolls and use the Rest Areas.  Occasional emergency stops on the shoulder for crying or speculating on the road not taken.
Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , | 68 Comments

And It’s Too Late, Baby, Now It’s Too Late

Posted on January 5, 2012 by pegoleg

Five days into the new year and 2012 is already an epic fail.

Looking around the blogosphere, it seems everybody had a plan for 2012.  A fresh, dazzling plan for the sparkling New Year.  Lots of blogs are wearing shiny, new themes.  WordPress rolled out their Project 365.  Bloggers have committed to posting every day, taking a photo-a-day, building a snowman a week, trying a new experience every week, putting together a cool robot every month, etc, etc, on, and on with disciplined plans for wonderfully inventive treats in store everywhere I look.  On 1/1/12, they all hit the ground running.

What about me?  What’s MY plan?

Introspection not being a strong suit, I didn’t make any New Year resolutions.  Not for real-life, and not for blogging-life.  Year-end just kind of snuck up on me while I was fiddling around with Christmas.    So what do I have in store for you, my faithful readers?  You’re getting haphazard, thrown-together-when-the-mood-hits-me ramblings.   Same old, same old. 

You deserve so much more.

Even if I wanted to put together a “365 Days Of ___” plan now, I can’t.  It’s too late for that perfect number.   I already missed 5 days of the year, maybe 6 by the time I post this.  Who wants 359 days?  That’s not a round number.  Where’s the symmetry in that?  It’s like starting a diet on Wednesday – it can’t be done.

Yup, the 365 Day Resolution Train has already left the station.  But there’s one way I can catch it.  I just have to resolve to do something I’ve already been doing for the last 5 days. 

I asked myself, “What have I done, every single day, so far this year?”

  • Eat
  • Sleep
  • Watch TV
  • Type on the computer
  • Drink coffee
  • Laugh
  • Blink
  • Drive my car
  • Sing along to the radio/MP3/DVD
  • Talk on the phone
  • Go to the bathroom
  • Do a Sudoku puzzle
  • Brush my teeth
  • Wear shoes 
  • Wear underwear
  • Wipe my nose (it’s cold here)
  • Say a prayer

While compiling this list I broke out in a cold sweat when I considered that I may have gone to the gym.  What if I was stuck with working out, EVERY DAY? Then I remembered that the Y was closed on New Years Day, so 1/5th of my days were gymless.  Whew!  Saved from having to do something hard. 

I know what you’re thinking. “What about a shower?”  I didn’t take one on Sunday, because I took one Saturday night right before we went out, and New Years Day was pretty quiet so I didn’t get dirty.  Really.  But I promise to bathe often enough this year to avoid a personal cloud of dust and flies like Pigpen in Charlie Brown, even if it didn’t make my list.

I would be setting myself up for certain failure if I resolved to do everything on that list every day, so I’ll just pick a few, important things.  Here they are in resolution form:

My After-The-Fact 2012 Resolution To Keep Doing Stuff I Already Do

 

It will be a magical journey of self-discovery as I attempt to keep this resolution by sheer force of will.  Along the way, I’ll blog about eating, sleeping, going to the bathroom (maybe not so much about that), under-wearing, teeth-brushing and praying.  Chances are good I will cover some other topics, too.

Come on along for what is sure to be a thrilling ride in 2012  – all aboard! 

(Please keep your arms and legs in the car at all times and remain seated until the train has come to a complete stop.  Hang on.)

Posted in General Ramblings | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 66 Comments