blog bytes
who needs talent to sing?
I can’t sing. Sure, I can open my mouth and belt out a few tuneless lines, but I always assumed singing meant more than a chaotic shrieking with no resemblance to the song Alexa is blasting on the speaker. At least, I assumed. To explore this topic, let’s look up the definition of singing, shall we? Oxford says, “making musical sounds with the voice.” Merriam-Webster adds, “to utter with musical inflections.” Musical, meantime, is defined as “having a pleasant sound.” Quite restrictive, I might argue, with little room for personal interpretation. read more
mirror, mirror on the wall…. . .…is it good news?
A self-talk recommendation on my daily affirmation calendar was this: “Every time I pass a mirror, I say out loud, ‘Hi, honey’ and wave.” You can imagine what the scene was like at my house after following along, with Ray thinking I was cozying up to him when I was just sugar-coating myself, and with him being curious if a screw had loosened. read more
a great big whoosh
If you’re not the type to bare all, never had a great bikini or Speedo body, yet still want to feel light and airy during long, warm days, take a cue from the intimidating snake. No, that’s not a euphemism for your last boy or girlfriend. I’m talking about the garter snake or perhaps the poisonous copperhead that left its skin sitting in my woodpile. I discovered it as I dragged out the last logs for the final fires of winter. Whatever kind of snake it was, it was cozy enough to drop its drawers outside of my house. It must have felt glorious in its cold-blooded heart, free, complete, done, before it crept off to scare somebody half to death. read more
america needs a nap
It’s the middle of the day—maybe two o’clock, maybe four—and a light switch turns off in your head. Nervous, shaky, you start judging yourself. I’m all washed up, useless, lazy, stupid, soft, old. You run for coffee, grab a breath of fresh air, get up and walk around, try to keep busy. Maybe you reach for dark chocolate—it’s an emergency—thinking it will help your heart which may be failing since you feel so faint. You close your eyes for a second. If only you could justify it, get away with it, let go of the guilt. Admit it: You want to take a nap. read more
pantyhose update
If you have a wedding upcoming, and your hemlines are lower than they used to be, but your age is creeping up, be forewarned. You still cannot wear stockings with your dress, lest you appear old and frumpy. Fashionistas already know this of course, yet I foolishly thought there was leeway when the temperature dips and the couple has an outdoor ceremony by a rushing river, trees dropping cracked dying leaves, the sky icy grey. Weather be dammed. It seems no hose is good hose. Still. read more
good friends overstay
“Always leave them wanting more” is a quote commonly attributed to the great circus showman P. T. Barnum. The trapeze artists may be swinging, the clowns may be juggling, the acrobats may be tumbling, but now it’s time to let the bug-eyed audience go home, dreaming of the next time they’ll see people jump through hoops. Others say it was maybe the musician Bobby Womack who said it, or perhaps Walt Disney—all top entertainers. Some have put their own spin on the idea. How often do we hear “Don’t overstay your welcome?” Or as Ben Franklin said, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” read more
doppelgänger
“You’ve lost half an inch” is not an expression you ever want to hear. Not if you’re a seamstress, a worm, a carpenter, a tightrope walker. Not if you’re a vertically challenged woman trying to puff up every measly feather she has. I argued with the nurse. “There must be something wrong with your ruler . . . I didn’t stand up straight . . . I’m having a slumpy day . . . Are you sure you don’t need glasses?” I tried it all. read more
reaching out, or not
I’m hunting an old boyfriend on the internet. Blame it on the holidays. In addition to the stress, fear, exhaustion, expectation, excitement, and disappointment -- the holidays also bring a reminder of the people who’ve occupied a big or tiny corner of love tucked in our hearts. We want to reach out, say hello, shoot them a line, make an old-fashioned phone call. Or stalk them on the internet. read more
how to relax (a bit) in 1-2-3 easy steps
The other day I saw a driver giving his middle finger a serious workout, thrusting his arm straight up outside his car window, the digit held like an ornery balloon. He even waved it at people passing by, blaring his horn for extra entertainment, scooping them up in his pop-up party. There appeared to be no hands on the wheel. It's a crazy time. read more
advice from a sleep expert plus a little magic
“What we need is a sleep expert,” a friend said, and today, I have one for you. His name is Roger Cole, a sleep researcher and well-known yoga teacher from California and don’t we all need that when anxiety and maybe late night horror movies like the news and extra chocolate keep us awake. Even a little dark chocolate can mess with Mother Nature. Now that’s bad news. read more
don’t underestimate your fridge
If I need to jog my memory about where I’ve been, who I’ve been with, how many kids are in the family, how many reasons I have to be proud, how cute or silly or hip or decidedly young we once were -- I have only one place to go. I go to the 300-pound behemoth that stands front and center in the kitchen, a loyal and steadfast soldier, a mountain of strength, an ever present muscular keeper of most things that make the home festive, healthy, fun, and did I say tasty, even if it’s delivered with a whiff of arctic chill. No, it’s not the man of the house, it’s the refrigerator. read more
get your real weird ID
If you haven’t gotten your Real ID drivers license which some of us need and some of us don’t and good luck figuring that out -- prepare to enter your cavernous DMV building to find aimless souls twitching their legs and checking their phones and wondering which bleary rep will input the vital info that proves you are who you say you are and who you are is maybe A-OK. read more
love costs $8.99
If one Valentine’s Day card doesn’t say it all—not the mushy one or the funny one or the singing one or the sexy one—you could get in serious trouble. Me: This is the card you got me? Him: I thought it was funny. Me: How about the one that says in all the world, you’re the only one made just for me? Him: That one costs more. Me: Good choice. Even if you do get it right, when you go to your Hallmark store, you have the sense of being taken for a ride and it’s not to the chapel of love. read more
looking for the inner fuzzy
If you haven’t yet caught the Danish-inspired wave called “hygge “-- pronounced hoo-gah -- which has created a hyped up marketing fad the past few winters, it may be because you don’t know your cool and comfy from your cold and edgy. Don’t worry, there’s still time to get your warm on. read more
forks and spoons make me swoon
Living with another person is about as easy as, well, living with yourself. Although when it comes to yourself, at least the odd quirks and assorted annoyances are to be expected. With other people, however, it can be a bit of a surprise or even a shock to learn they don’t do everything the way you do, won’t do everything the way you do, don’t think it’s a good idea to do everything the way you do. And when you ask why, it’s one flimsy excuse after another just piled on. read more
the wisdom of butter and sugar
Aunt Wanda’s latest advice to us all -- and I am her proxy -- is this: At some point in your life, you have to stop doing things that frustrate you and start doing things that make you happy. She’s 97, so maybe she knows a thing or two. Or maybe not. read more
another day in the life
I’m sitting in my car in a hot parking lot in the middle of a perfectly organized day. It’s all about the lists. No time to waste. I’m thinking about what’s next when I see Doug. I’ll call him that because he’s short, a bit robust, neat, clean-cut. No, I’m not stalking some cool guy. He’s middle-aged, preppy, 3-button polo tucked into striped shorts, a belt. Hair slicked back, dark, a bit gray. read more
kick the bucket list
Hang glide over the Rockies? Start the great American novel? Make apple pie from scratch? Organize your family photos? Fuhgeddaboudit! Otherwise, no time like the present to tackle the bucket list. But the dream is just a dream, and the pie is from a box if you don’t have apples and don’t go into the kitchen. So, in the spirit of bringing Mohammed to the mountain, I boarded a boat on the west coast of Iceland… read more
shark attack
When the summertime comes, many of us keep our eyes peeled on the waves for that blade of darkness rising from the deep. We watch, we shiver, and we remember an almost encounter in the ocean that makes us question why we penetrate the great underwater unknown where we were not born to live. Everyone has an almost. An almost swept away by an undertow, an almost full-on collision with something—What was that?—an ass-over-elbows tumble that almost left us broken in pieces. read more
drivel
Since no one has asked me to deliver a commencement speech—an obvious oversight—I’d like to offer the advice I’d share if ever called to whittle down life into one neat package. Forget the top ten. Who has time? How about the top one? What’s the one thing you’d say to every anxious, confused, hopeful, promising young person that would help them sail through life a little taller, a little happier, maybe even a little longer? After sifting through layers of wisdom painfully earned and heroically recounted by speakers to future generations, I’d like to add this to the conversation: Stand up and be counted. No matter how wacky you are. read more
do we ever grow up?
Is there ever a time in our lives when we stop blaming our parents? Even if it was all their fault? I posed that question to a group of complaining, blaming women -- if only Mom had been thinner, more supportive, smarter; if only Dad had been home more, talented, had a big fancy boat -- and everyone laughed. Then they became silent. Then they nodded their heads. Then they said OK now what; if the mess of my life isn’t their fault, whose fault is it? read more
put on your comfy pants
After buying new clothes that I later realize make me look old or fat or ugly or just plain stupid, I’m proud to say my selection of attire I can wear around the house has markedly increased. Around the house, I look quite stylish in a manic array of too frilly, too silly, too crinoline-y, a regular hodge-podge fashionista. read more
over the moon together
I have a guy who needs convincing. Him: No, no way, nope. Me: Oh, come on. We’ll get up at 4 a.m., nearly sunrise in some parts of the world. We’ll throw our coats over our pajamas and take a tiny ride. I’ll drive. Him: We don’t wear pajamas. Me: I’ll cover up this old ratty nightgown and you can throw on some sweatpants. Eazy peezy. Pleazy? Him: Absolutely not. read more
bikini birthday blues
With a big birthday coming, I’ve encountered all sorts of advice on how a woman should approach her advancing age. Some of it is actually welcome. Especially the words of one woman after I boldly announce I’m going to be “a-hem, cough, cough” in April. She said, “Don’t ever say that number again.” And so, today at least, I won’t. read more
a bad cook’s party tips
Since my last roasted Brussels sprouts looked like desiccated remains from an excavation site, and my last fried potatoes limped into their bowl, and my last rice dish was chiseled out of its pot, I’ve been wondering what advice I can possibly give when it comes to dinner parties. Still, I have something to say on the subject. read more
cold hands, cold feet, cold heart
You know the old saying: “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.” It originated in Norway but migrated to those countries where snow, ice, rain and wind can strike at any time, and where those who get caught shivering are reminded of their failures by strapping Norsemen to which there’s only one thoughtful response: “f*** off.” read more
talk nice, not dirty, this new year
It’s the beginning of January and we have lists of things we want to change, begin, accomplish. We have files of lists. We have drawers of files. We have cabinets of drawers. We have houses filled with cabinets. We’ve tried, we’ve failed, we’ve tried again, we’ve failed. Whatever it is -- new career challenges, less relationship drama, less dandruff -- we’ve tried. We’ve made big resolutions, promises, pronouncements, and we’ve failed. Plain and simple, we’re losers. read more
ode to soup
Even rotten cooks have their specialties. For me, it’s soup; you can always add a little water and throw in a couple of croutons. It’s the elixir of my winter life, and with the dark months upon us, I thought it wise to remind all of us when the going gets icy, windy, frigid, we can toughen-up with a bowl of hot, homemade, everything but the snow, giddy, gratifying soup. Even a rotten cook can make it. read more
Diary of bone-chilling leisure
When was the last time you thought of peeking into someone else’s diary or—the seemingly mature version—the journal? A page or two perhaps, not the things that make you cringe, just enough to get a sense of what another deranged soul is thinking first thing in the morning or last thing at night. So here you go, a few pages from mine, to show how the human brain works when faced with a sudden, irrevocable, bone-chilling event that tips its precarious balance. Bottom line: the mind can be a kooky place to live. read more.
finding jeans you can trust
Magda is the kind of person you pray you’ll meet after squeezing into every high-rise, low-rise, mid-rise, straight, skinny, cropped, distressed, boyfriend possibility in every Nordstrom, Bloomingdale’s and Macy’s. And still when you get home with the best of the worst, family says take them back: “There’s too much material in front or the butt is hanging, or maybe jeans aren’t for you anymore now that your body is fatter, skinnier, saggier, changing.” read more.
the divas get laid-back
The Divas have a new goal this summer as we try to get more peace in our lives by way of not making ourselves miserable. Essentially, we’re going to un-beat ourselves up, instead of the other way around. As silly as it sounds, it’s a catchy little phrase that doesn’t beat around the prickly bush. Yes, it’s the beginning of the latest Wisdom Divas challenge. read more.
the naked thief
Have you ever worried you’ll lose your clothes in a dressing room while begging random shoppers for an opinion on a new outfit? Or you’ll run out of the house when deer start eating your hostas and forget you’re naked? Or villains from another planet will abduct you in the middle of the night and zap your nightgown, leaving your body for all to see? Me neither. But when it comes to baring all, the imagination does tend to run wild. read more
marriage or an affair
We all have lots of opportunities to consider whether a situation will be short-term or long. Maybe it’s a relationship or a significant purchase. Perhaps you’re pondering an investment of time and energy. Will it be right for a week, a month, a season, a lifetime? Or just a couple of drinks? In other words, is it a marriage or an affair? read more.
home is where the mess is
Whenever I leave the house on a trip, I leave written instructions. Water the plants Friday, grab fruit at the farmers market Saturday, pick up the dead branches blocking the front door, the ones you’re stepping over. I try to be specific. If it’s not on the list, it doesn’t exist. read more
get out now
In a given week, how often do you drive away from home, remember you left something on the stove or forgot your gym bag or your shopping list or the gift you’re carrying to a party, and you turn back? Your neighbors see you rush out like the Mad Hatter and return crawling like a centipede, head tucked to the ground. Her again. read more
broccoli cancels chocolate
I have enough pasta, tortilla chips and frozen bagels to satisfy the whole neighborhood not to mention most ethnic groups. I could live months maybe years in my house without buying an ounce of food. Should the apocalypse occur, my community is secure. Yet anything short of all-hell-breaking-loose leaves me panicked I’ll starve to death. read more
the definition of joy
My oldest friend Elayne, my so-called “positive partner,” and I continue to hope. We’re determined to look at the bright side of things, even if we need to make ourselves miserable to do it. One of our projects toward that end is “joy journals,” the kind of thing you did when you were thirteen years old, which is when we met, and the kind of thing you forget about after thirteen when you have joy nailed down. Which we don’t. read more.
a tale of revenge
We had simultaneously read the best revenge story of all time, The Count of Monte Cristo, so I feared Ray would plot his own kind of revenge when he learned I hit his newish car in the driveway. Immediately, I ran to the seafood market and grabbed an Alaskan king crab leg, nearly sixty bucks a pound. Crab legs totally disturb me and make me sad, but not Ray. And since I was about to reveal that while he was out pedaling his two-wheeler in his short bike pants, I hit his fancy four-wheeled Volvo because—well—I forgot to look behind me, I thought I’d better be ready with a coveted offering when I got on my knees and begged for mercy. read more
good riddance, luddite
When you spend a lot of time with your housemates, like during a deep snowy winter or a pandemic, there comes a time when two of you, or all of you, simply don’t agree. In which case, a well-placed word could go a long way. It may go a long way in the wrong direction, however, and it may have legs that follow you for quite an annoying time. Your housemates may not like what you called them. This word, for example: Luddite. read more
is this the time for a tattoo?
There comes a time in life when the unthinkable suddenly makes sense. Even if you never were a badass. Never sat on your Harley smoking cigarettes behind a dive bar, never wore studded boots with mini shorts, never got sick drunk at a party. Well, one out of three ain’t badass, is it? read more
happy hour, sort of
This unusual period of time in our country, the world, has created the all-new and perhaps enduring social distancing happy hour that brings friends and family sort of but not quite together in a sort of but not quite jovial time. Being jovial has been a bit of a challenge… read more
Meet the neighbors, or “neigh-bros”
Even though we haven’t gone far away lately, I have a new cast of characters in my life, and maybe you do too. I call mine Creamsicle, Cousin Itt, Sonny and Cher, Prince, the Manson Gang, the Crier, the Poodles and the Misguided, just to name a few. I check on them pretty much every day while pounding the neighborhood pavement. read more
don’t throw out the love letters
Like many of you, the pandemic has sent me on a sentimental journey down memory lane as I sift through boxes piled up in the basement, garage, high up on shelves that I’d fairly well forgotten about, hadn’t the faintest idea I still had. Schmaltzy things like a grade school autograph book with this inscription: Roses are red/Violets are blue/I’m your friend/and you’re mine too. Epic poetry. read more
everybody needs a buddy
My friend Elayne, my happy friend, made an upbeat suggestion. “Let’s be positive partners,” she said, “and let’s set aside an hour a week to discuss how to keep ourselves optimistic and moving forward in this scary time.” At first I smirked. Certainly we’d need a more stylish name, more modern, a title inspiring in and of itself. Happy Hunters? Joy Junkies? Silver Liners? Virus Vanquishers? read more
the joys of a hot bath in hard times
“It’s for the birds,” is something my Dad used to say. “Who needs it,” he would grunt, flicking his hand like swatting a fly. Sorry, Dad, I disagree. Birds can teach us a lot. For example, they could be the world’s experts on taking a glorious bath, and who doesn’t need that at home right now. read more
remember what mom said ... pick up the phone
A couple of centuries ago when social media was new -- we all started looking for people we hadn’t talked to since high school. I heard from the first guy I kissed when I was 13, the 15-year-old who tried to fight me because we wore the same white blouse, the guy who tried to unzip my polka dot prom dress. Suddenly all those people were there for a free-for-all, crawling in and out of the woodwork. read more
