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How can Boomers get ready for a Birthday?

July 9, 2010 By 4 Comments

Ok, I'm here, where's my cake?

Fellow Boomers, don’t you just love, ugh, those articles, birthday cards, and other banners that announce you know you are old when… . Tell me, do you want to know when you are old? I didn’t think so.

Do you want to see lights flashing, confetti falling from the sky, and bumper stickers  proclaiming your next phase in life? How ’bout a boomer birthday cake with a blow torch instead of candles? I didn’t think so, but you cannot stop those well meaning younger chicks just itching to give you a 50th birthday party.

Plan of action:  Tell  friends  exactly one year before the blessed day to begin saving money for your birthday gift. As this is such a big deal birthday, you are expecting expensive presents from them at your surprise birthday party. Yes, I did this. The expressions on my friends’ faces were priceless. LT would not let me go through with my party plans.

On a more somber note, my advice to fellow boomers: Remember what we learned many years ago in our first girl scout meeting, be prepared. Listen politely without comment as others rant, rave and deny the signs; you, however, take note of the signs. Get out the Evernote and take a few notes if

  1. You think about how many hours of sleep you will get BEFORE even considering an invitiation to go out
  2. You hum when you drive
  3. You plan all your run around errands for one day
  4. You read the obituaries
  5. You look forward to the AARP newspapers & magazines
  6. You don’t need an alarm clock; you wake up at 5 am everyday
  7. Sentences begin “I remember when…”
  8. You worry about your fiber intake
  9. You purchase Miralax in bulk
  10. Your wish list includes a pink hover-around

All-in-all, none of these translate into old age. You allow them to place you there.

I am looking forward to getting up early, jumping in my custom made pink hover-round, humming all the way to hollywood with some gel inserts for my fellow models ;-) Listen, a big market is opening up for seniors hitting the red carpet in the next ten years.

Final tip- I keep my plastic surgeon’s phone number under favorite’s on my IPhone- in a large FONT. Ok, kidding about the font, but Dr. Widenhouse’s phone number is always with me.
Please share yours
You know you’re old when…

dreamstime

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Freedom of choice: Multi grain or Moon Pies

June 24, 2010 By 4 Comments

Do you just feel better when you purchase something that  says multi-grain? I shut down the part of my brain that knows to check the ingredient label to verify the first listed ingredient says the word: whole grain. Unless the label says whole grain, I know it is processed grain. Processed grain means all the good stuff has been leached out prior to making the food product. So, you ask, why don’t I check to see if it is whole grain? I select multigrain because I like it, not because of the fiber cleansing possibilities. I enjoy my freedom of choice.

Food manufacturers stay tuned to the Medical Channel. They know the keywords the public wants to see on the package. Just say the word multi-grain and the majority of folks will have a light bulb moment and toss the muti-grain tortilla chips in the cart, feeling very good about their choice. In reality, many of the labeled whole wheat products could be substituted for Wonder bread and a little brown dye.

Don’t you just miss the days you could go to lunch, order a BLT on white with extra mayonaise without someone at your table looking at your table like you have lost your mind.

Then said person will, depending on his or her conversational skills, introduce recent cholesterol studies or the recent reports on the pork industry. Give me a break people. This is one bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. I want my freedom of choice back.

Next time someone asks me to go to lunch, my first response will be to ask him if he has a problem with

  1. pork – in all forms, including bacon, ham
  2. mayonaise – no preference, although I do prefer Hellman’s
  3. white bread – I will eat with the crusts on (although I did get used to having them cut off)
  4. potato chips and/or french fries – no, I do not prefer cottage cheese with canned peaches on top

If he is able to answer these questions to my satisfaction and/or have not hung up on me, I look forward to our lunch- without the food police.

Excuse me for the ranting nature of this post- it’s just I have been the victim of the food police many times in my life. No one is safe. My attackers now focus on  my diet coke consumption. Before you tell me, let me tell you the negatives of excessive consumption of diet soda:

  • can make you gain weight (I concur if group decides to eat more because they have cut back calories by not drinking regular soda, e.g. an extra large order of french fries)
  • can contribute to teeth decay (I concur if they do not brush their teeth, even without proper dental care individual’s still has teeth, a meth addict does not)

These are just two of the many I have heard. Again, I quote Mommy’s response when she receives unwarranted advice repeatedly. “Blow it out your barracks bag.” I am not exactly sure what a barracks bag is, but the retort definitely fits.

I appreciate you do not eat animal products and only eat vegetables grown in organic gardens in Orange County, California.

Please understand, I am a southern gal raised on diet coke, fried chicken and moon pies.

I already gave up the moon pies.

Leave me alone.

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Aunt S- one in a million

June 18, 2010 By 9 Comments

Some of my readers know I am in Florida visiting my dear Aunt S. Last night, we went out to dinner with one of her cronies from first grade- did I mention that was 75 years ago? During some rearranging, NJ found a picture of their girl scout troop.We spent hours trying to pick the two of them out of the group. Finally, we decided Aunt S was the little one who was standing at attention staring straight ahead. No surprise there- Aunt S is a no nonsense type of gal.

The conversation then moved to this year’s hurricane preparation plans. Aunt S’ plan is simple, but effective. She plans to  wrap a bungee cord around her waist two times and then lassoo it around one of her chimneys. She figures she will be good to go until the rescue helicopters come and swoop her up. Even though we all laughed, today I plan to snoop around  for a bungee cord- will give you a report.

NJ’s plan includes purchasing a generator. I knew before the words came out of her mouth that Aunt S would have plenty to say about this-

  • You know generators have to be fueled by gasoline, are you going to tote gasoline cans out there NJ
  • When NJ mentioned one using propane, Aunt S asked if she planned to put the propane tank in her living room- people have died inhaling the fumes

This discourse went on for a few minutes, with the two of them carrying on as best friends do- each looking out for each other, but determined to get her point across and get the last word.

I spend my three weeks down here jockeying between chuckling and falling out laughing. This morning as I type I hear the 6:00 am alarm going off. The alarm is typical until the end when it reaches a crescendo of beats and then stops. You ask why are we talking about an alarm? Because this one goes off 365 days a year, rain or shine. Aunt S set it one time, never to be unset. I admit I did try, but we all know my resume with appliance repair is not strong. So, we sit, I chuckle, Aunt S doesn’t bat an eyelash as the beep starts and then goes into the crescendo every morning promptly at 6 am.

Actually, I am quite surprised Aunt S has not figured this out, as she is a master at finding solutions.

  • To prevent water from escaping the side of the shower curtain, she has velcro attached to wall and shower curtain. This year I noticed she colored the velcro strips with green highlighter- I must have missed the velcro connection last year.
  • When rolling luggage became the way to go, Aunt S convinced her ? to come out of retirement long enough to attach rollers to her thirty year old yellow Samsonite suitcase. She carries a 4 inch multicolor strap in her purse that she insists you use. Even though as it is 3 feet long, it makes her suitcase quite unwieldy

I cherish this time with my Aunt S. I do insist she leave some of her chores for me to do when I get here. But that takes some fast talking and fancy footwork as she is an independent lady, even if she is 81 years old. The only other better time of year is Christmas when I have the two of them: my Aunt S and my Mommy in my home. I could not be happier.

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