Category Archives: Life Observation

Hanging In There!

Wisdom’s Not My Strong Suit

Hanging In There

Hanging In There

These days, I walk with the assistance of a cane.  On days when either senility or vanity gets the better of me I leave the cane at home.  I hobble my behind down the street ignoring the pain and the lopsided gait all in hopes of blending in.  Yeah, those of you that know me already can guess where this story is headed.  Those of you that don’t, stick around. 

The day before yesterday I had a multitude of errands to run.  Some took longer than anticipated and I had to hurry to catch my shuttle service.  In a headlong rush out the wrong exit of the shopping center, I wound up on a side of the property that is closed off by gates and wrought iron fencing.  By then my leg hurt so bad there was no way I was going to backtrack through the shopping center to the main entrance.  Being the intelligent being that I am, I decided, “Hey, you can climb that fence.  Piece of cake!”

On the side of the fence enclosing the shopping center are decorative cement blocks that resemble steps.  The fence is set in the top blocks so that was no major feat.  What I hadn’t expected was the small ledge and steep drop on the other side of the fence.  Being the glass is half full kind of gal, I still thought I had this. (Who was I kidding?) So I braced myself to jump from the small ledge onto the ground below.  My foot slipped of the ledge before I could jump and then the bad leg gave out altogether.

Okay, so now you probably have a mental picture of a nutcase sprawled on the ground.  Not nearly so lucky.  Dummy me didn’t notice the hood of my jacket was caught on the curly spikes that protrude from the fence.  Guess who was hanging by the hood of her jacket for what seemed like an eternity?  I was finally rescued by a group of teenagers, but not before they took pics with their cell phones.  Impertinent puppies!  Did I catch my shuttle?  No.  Would I do it again?  Hmm…  Who said wisdom came with age?


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The Dreaded “S” Word

Great Beach Reads

Summer Is NOT My Friend

Bake, Flip, Repeat

Summer, the one out of four seasons when we get a little taste of hell on Earth.  I am not a fan of the overly warm, infinitely humid, incessantly stinky season.  And can someone tell me what is up with all the lying in the sun?  I equate sunbathing to baking a cake.  I consider myself to be a luscious double decadent chocolate.  When my decadent chocolate self popped out of the oven all moist, springing back to the touch and dry to the tooth pick test, it meant I was finished baking.  What logical reason would I have for jumping back in the oven?  As far as I know the same thing applies to angel food, vanilla, yellow, spice and red velvet cake.  There are more flavors but I don’t have all day. If I missed the kind of cake you see yourself as, tell me.  You take your cake out of the oven when it’s done and that’s the end of the story.  Can someone explain why so many people stick their already done cakes back in the oven repeatedly?   Is there a recipe called 10-50 times baked?  The sad part is when the cake is all dried up, cracked and flaky; then you hear, “What happened?  How do I get rid of these cracks?  Where did my nice springy cake go?”    All I can say is, deal with your road map partner.  You drew it!    Did I happen to mention I HATE summer?

man on beach

There are however, ten things I will grudgingly confess I enjoy about that confounded “S” word.  One, the days are longer.  And two through ten, the “beach reads“.  The beach reads are probably the only reason I survive those hellish months.  Those books that make you laugh, or have you sizzling and it’s not because of the outdoor heat.  I remember one…dare I say the nasty word?…summer, after a rather torturous breakup, I had checked out just about every murder mystery book from my local library.  I couldn’t kill the slimy slug for real, so I imagined him as the soon to be deceased in all the books I read.  Between those pages so much mayhem was inflected on my ex-boyfriend, when I did run into him upon occasion in town, I could easily smile and hold a civil conversation.  If only he had known that I had just finished burying him in the foundation of a neighbor’s new house or tying a weight around his neck and dropping him far out at sea only a few hours before!  Hey, it worked!  Call it my self-help therapy.

Buried In Buttercream by G.A. McKevett

This “S” word I recently discovered a writer named G. A. McKevett.  She has written a series called the Savannah Reid Mysteries.  Me being me, of course I started reading her series backward, which is Mckevett’s latest book,  Buried in Buttercream.  I found, Buried In Buttercream to be delightful and witty.  Her characters are unique and I love that McKevett isn’t afraid to make the hero and heroine of her novels a bit more like the Jane and Joe Average you pass on the streets everyday.  While her books are entertaining, there are a couple of items which I found a bit off-putting.  Mckevett might have done well to either refer back to her notes, if she took any, or reread her earlier novels before proceeding to write the next book in her series.    In the first few books her drunken mother raised nine children then in the middle of the series the grandmother raised Savannah and her siblings.  The time span of the friendship between Savannah and her ex-partner, Det. Dirk Coulter expands faster than Pinocchio’s nose.  Despite the errors here and there,  I do recommend you throw this series into your beach bag.   All in all, I give the Savannah Reid Mysteries by G.A. McKevett a solid 8 out of 10.

Here are some of the other books I’ve read this summer:

Stolen Prey by John Sandford  –  The book is the latest installment in the Prey Series.  Excellent!  I rated the book 10 out of 10.

The Last Confession and The Gravedigger’s Ball by Solomon Jones –  I liked The Last Confession more than I did the Gravedigger’s Ball.  Jones creates heart stopping villains and knows how to build tension and suspense but I found the basis of the plot to be weak.  The Gravedigger’s Ball picks up where The Last Confession ended.  The idea is original but honestly I thought Lenore rather useless.    The plot could have moved a little better without her as a supposed focal point.  I rate The Last Confession 8 out of 10 and The Gravedigger’s Ball 7 out of 10.

What are you reading this “S” word?


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Yesterday afternoon as I was heading home I stepped into the corner grocery store to pick up a few odds and ends. I was in the dairy section reaching way back into the refrigerator to grab the freshest milk. I mean, we all know they put the stuff that is due to expire soon in the front right?

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a young man come down the aisle but I thought nothing of him.  I finally had my hand on a carton of milk that was not due to expire for weeks when WHAM!  The glass door of the refrigerator was shoved harshly into my back and I stumbled further into the refrigerator against the shelving and cut my arm.

Guess I don’t have to tell you who the culprit was.  He strolled past me as if nothing had happened.  But it had.  And I was incensed.  Not a good thing for me to feel, but it forewarned of worse things for the stranger.  Not thinking, I leaped after the stranger and my hand snagged and grasped the back of the collar of his tee-shirt.  Caught by surprise, he gave a strangled gurgle when his tee-shirt dug into his neck as I yanked him toward me.  Why did I do that?  I don’t know.  My brain was on automatic and something inside me said, “Not today buddy!”

He was taller than I and his muscle ton was well-defined by his tee-shirt.  If he had chosen to swing at me, even blindly, since I was behind him, I probably would have slid down the glass doors like the birds in the Windex commercials.

He started to curse and squirm so I let him go and stepped in front of him.  A Finger wagging lecture at the ready, I noticed his eyes go wide as if he was afraid.  Mentally I’m telling myself.  “Yeah I showed him!  He should be afraid!”  That feeling of overcoming the bully lasted a few seconds.  By then, one of the store owners stood beside me; in his hand was a wooden bat.  That was what caused my assailant’s alarm.  The store owner had seen the whole incident from the mirrors placed in the corners of the ceiling in the store and had come to my “rescue”.

Though big in size, it turns out the stranger was only sixteen.  I asked him way he had done that to me.  His explanation?  You’re going to love this…  He thought I was old.  He saw the white hair from behind and thought I was a senior citizen.   There were so many things wrong with the whole situation, but the most glaring to me was not that he had shoved a person or even a woman into a refrigerator.  No the most unsettling issue was that he thought it was okay to shove an elderly woman into a refrigerator.  Even his apology started off with “I thought you were way older….”

What the heck are we teaching our children?  This is tomorrows future?  What a scary thought!

Now I have an errand boy for the next 6 months.  He had a choice, either do my bidding for six months or I call the police and he gets arrested for assault.  He may not know anything about respect but he will by the time I get finished with him!

Any suggestions?

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Posted by on July 6, 2011 in Life Observation, Literary


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Thank You But No

Next week has to be better!

Thank you but no

Thank You But No

This week started with a big bang. It has also been one of weird balances. For every positive accomplishment, there seemed to be an equally negative occurrence.

Example #1: I sold my car at a price higher than I anticipated. Very good. Thieves busted the driver’s side window and ripped out the radio, GPS, and took everything out of the glove box and arm rest. As if that wasn’t enough, sometime after the break-in a neighborhood cat dragged a bird through the open window and made a dinner of it, leaving blood and feathers everywhere. Very Bad.

Example #2: I’m up for a job, which will let me write my column in an online paper twice a week. It comes with a sweet salary. I just need to prove that I can write a little grittier. Very good. I decide to write about a topic that I feel strongly about. I go undercover with a friend and we almost get the crap beat out of us. Didn’t know I could run that fast! Very bad.

What does a girl do after thanking the Big Guy Upstairs profusely for her survival? She hangs out with her friends to try to find some normalcy, which is sadly lacking, in her life. My friends and I decided to go to a local eatery with a rather interesting bar. The place was packed and my friends and I were having a good time laughing, joking and sharing rather ribald anecdotes.

As the night progressed, I found myself in search of the lady’s room. I think I should tell you first that staring at a computer screen all day, plus alcohol intake, minus glasses, equals a very merry woman who can’t see well. Down the dark hall I pranced (there was a catchy tune playing), encased in my happy buzz and I walked into the first door I saw with a familiar symbol. The first sight that greeted me was what I thought was a woman with her back toward the entrance; pants down, facing what I believed were a bank of sinks. I stood there puzzled and a bit shocked when she turned around and after seeing me, yelled in a deep baritone “Hey lady! Wrong room?”

What? Now I’m truly confused so I moved a little closer, trying to sharpen my murky vision. As I got closer, I realized the protester was a guy with long blonde hair and what I thought was a bank of sinks were actually urinals. Imagine my mortification! Even more embarrassing was that the guy had turned to face me fully with his pants still drawn down and I was close enough to make out a lot of little details. I got out of there so fast it made my fuzzy head spin.

Later on, I spied the guy, from what I now know was the men’s room, a few tables away and sent him a drink and apology via the waitress. Right before we left that night, in return, the guy sends me a drink and a business card with his phone number on it.

Frankly, you’d think the guy would be embarrassed. I sure as heck was. Would you make a pass at a person who’d just seen your goods?


Posted by on June 23, 2011 in Life Observation


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Forget you. I’m The Answer, Not The Problem.

Forget You.

Forget you. I'm the solution, not the problem.

Lately I find myself watching people a lot. Wondering, what they’re thinking; what their lives are like. Are they happy, and if not, why not?

A few days ago, I witnessed someone I know sink under the mounting pressures of Life. A hot tear rolled down her cheek as the weight of life jumped on her back and rode her mercilessly until her knees buckled and she gasped a plea for clemency. Having been in her position most of my life, I could readily identify with her pain and struggles, but for once my reaction wasn’t the usual commiserating anger. Instead, as I watched, something deep inside me snapped and I said to myself “screw it!”

We spend most of our lives trampling each other in the dust. Oblivious to the total promise of life as we race frantically toward that invisible finish line.

When we get there, will we have enough forethought to look back and see what we’ve left in our wake? And just what will lay in the groove of our treads? A full meaningful life with no regrets, lots of warmth, love, and positive thoughts or misery and bitterness and emptiness so hollow we can still hear its echo?

There’s a saying, “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.” I think this is true. It’s not saying you can’t have problems, it just says don’t be one. A problem is someone who refuses to grow spiritually, takes their own negative thoughts and criticisms as gospel and uses it like a sword to cut down anyone or thing of beauty, promise, talent or courage…you get the picture.

I could go on, but what’s the point? Unfortunately, we all know someone like that, heck, we might that person ourselves. For me, today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, I’ll say, “Screw it!” This new-found strength will not conquer overnight, but I’ll be damned if I willingly let the negatives of life ride me until my knees buckle leaving me to hang on to the vestiges of an existence barely claimed and unwanted.

From now on, I am a solution. When it’s my turn to cross that finish line I want to know that though I may not have started out a winner, somewhere along the line I became one. More importantly, the grooves of my tread will be filled with the glow of those I loved, and those who walked with me, whether short or long distances, on my journey to the finish line.

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Posted by on June 22, 2011 in Life Observation


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