Tag: Amazon

Don’t We All Need a Cruise On The S.S. Minnow?

In reliving the memories of Baby Boomer television, you really didn’t think I’d forget about Gilligan’s Island, did you?

Of all the improbable, unrealistic and oh-my-this-is-beyond-stupid shows we watched as kids, this could be in the top three of all time. Didn’t the Captain and his “little buddy” Gilligan ever think that naming a boat the Minnow might portend a bad outcome in a storm? Hello, how about Jaws or Orca?

The Jetsons were far more believable to me than this crew of castaways. A family living in the space age with robots, no problem.

Castaways on a desert island three hours off Hawaii, give me a break. They lived better than most people in the third world, and Ginger never ran out of makeup or hairspray. Too bad there was no Amazon. If there had been they would have been found and saved. That little smiling truck would have pulled right up to the shoreline and delivered the goods.

The castaways built a radio, huts, and cooked up some unbelievable recipes with coconuts, yet they couldn’t find the wherewithal to build a boat. Not enough trees on that deserted island? Even though one of them was a professor? Noah built an entire ark the size of a small city!

Of course, I’m not the first or even the thousandth to mention how highly laughable this fairy tale was.

However, it just made me rethink the sixties and how desperate we must have been for escape that we actually used Gilligan’s Island as a vehicle.

Times must have been pretty crazy off that TV screen.

Yes, I get it. The whole you-have-to-go-along with the joke thing. Yet I just find it more and more difficult to allow myself that luxury.

Even today watching shows like FBI or any police tale, it seems so improbable how the characters act when they are chasing criminals. No one even covers the back door. So, of course we always hear, “they went out the back,” and the chase begins. Give me a break. Is that really what you learned at Quantico?

Or a single cop going in to chase a perp with no partner or back up. Sure, that could happen. But not in this world!

Why do I find myself more familiar with the rules of law enforcement that the writers?

Hey, there’s a terror attack in Times Square. Quick, go to a pizza joint and find two cops to check it out. Are you kidding me? In what world could that happen?

The whole police force would be there like an army. At least they used to. Now with the new mayor of New York, who knows?

It just seems so silly to me I can’t seem to overlook the craziness of it all.

Yet, I overlooked the fact that Ginger worn a ball gown she brought on a three-hour cruise, that a professor couldn’t build a boat and that the Howells lived like Charles and Camilla in a hut?

What could we possibly be escaping from in the sixties that was more frightening than today’s world and yet… and yet.

Perhaps we can’t buy into so many of these premises anymore because we’ve seen so much more real-life craziness.

Let’s face it, we had no Internet, social media and only three news shows a night to choose from. If Cronkite, Huntley and Brinkley or Peter Jennings didn’t report it, it didn’t happen. End of story.

We watched police behave like Toody and Muldoone in Car 54 Where are You? Or Andy Griffith in Maybury, where Barney got all bent out of shape and insisted on a public hanging if someone jaywalked.

Yes, we had Dragnet and Jack Webb emphasizing, “Just the facts, Mam.” Or tough cops like Broderick Crawford on Highway Patrol we believed were authentic. We were afraid of police despite Barney Fife.

After all, did Jack Webb look like a guy that couldn’t handle whatever came his way? And what about the granddaddy of all crime shows, The Untouchables? Was there ever anyone like Eliot Ness? Staunch in his dedication, devoted to his duty and as honest as the Dalai Llama.

We believed he’d clean up the town, arrest every bad guy and protect us from those bootlegging bad guys.

In the end was it because we simply became so attached to our TV screens that whatever appeared we embraced?

Was life so hard in the fifties and sixties? Sure, there were difficult times with lots of stress. Polio, the cold war, assassinations, Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher splitting up.

So, we watched Gilligan and anything that came on the air, buying into every bit. We were so enthralled with having TV screens in our home we ate up every morsel, believable or not.

We remained optimistic that Gilligan would eventually find a way off that island. That Ginger’s face would break out in zits, and the Professor would take his eyes off Mary Ann’s short shorts long enough to build that boat. Were we naïve or just simply enjoying this new medium that allowed everyone to sit down, be together and escape the outside world?

Was it easy to laugh or were we simply that unsophisticated we found humor and excitement in the characters on the screen? Yet today, it doesn’t seem so easy to buy in. Have we become so jaded that we can’t accept the improbable anymore? Or has the improbable become our new reality? Kinda hard to top politicians for entertainment and pure horror.

As time moved forward into the seventies the shows became more gritty and violent. It got pretty real and a bunch of loons on a desert island wouldn’t make the cut. Or was Gilligan just the precursor to Survivor?

So do the times dictate what we will watch or the shows create the times? Was watching Lee Harvey Oswald murdered in front of our eyes the beginning of reality tv?

Is television a mirror image of life or an exaggeration for entertainment’s sake?

Did we turn to shows like Gilligan for a reprieve from the outside world or to reinforce our belief in innocence? Hasn’t the human race always been eager to laugh at the outrageous and bizarre?

Watching Gilligan on that peaceful island allowed us all to suspend rational thought and just go with the flow and the silliness of their plight.

Perhaps deep inside we were cheering for him to stay there. For that crew to continue to enjoy their desert island in anonymity and uncomplicated joy. Finding a desert island and hiding away sounds even more seductive in these times. After all, Gilligan did always find a way to screw up their potential escapes off the island. Just an observation.

Yep, does sound nice. Maybe that’s why cruises are so popular. They’re no desert island, but at least there’s a boat that works and will hopefully get you home. And a cruise does offer a lot more food choices than a coconut.

Still, knowing the number of fifties and sixties shows, including Gilligan that are watched on reruns daily, maybe more silly is exactly what we all need. Let me see now, The Real Housewives of anywhere or Gilligan’s Island? Okay, no brainer, Mary Ann, cut me another piece of pie, please.

Brusha, Brusha, Brusha. Here’s the New Ipana…

Despite the fact I watch an inordinate amount of British television I still can’t quite understand what makes Brits tick.

I know they have many opinions about Americans, Jews, the Monarchy, the French, and dogs. But seriously, what’s up with their teeth?

I have heard all sorts of excuses for the British smile, from the water to the cost of dentistry, but here’s the thing; Catherine and William have a beautiful smile. So water is not the issue.

Why would the Queen of England or the King have to worry about the price of dentistry?

If the Monarchy is hard up for money, a jewel or two from a tiara or a diamond lying around could cover the cost. Okay so maybe more than one. Have you seen the price of dental work lately?

But he is the king after all. He’s worth a few bucks.

I have noticed even celebrities on British television series could use an implant or two, or three, and how about some whitening guys? If you aren’t earning enough Americans could start a Go Fund Me page and have Amazon send over some Crest strips.

If I seem overly critical or snide it’s that Brits pride themselves on being better and smarter than other people. So, shouldn’t that include better teeth as well? Their egos make them fair game in my estimation. Just a nod to Joan Rivers.

The attitude difference is rather shocking actually.

Americans are possessed with plastic surgery, white teeth, toned bodies and all else superficially obvious on one’s body.

The Brits, not so much. Their famous actors don’t seem overly concerned about a wrinkle or two whereas in the U.S. they would be denied work. Well, the woman at least.

American plastic surgeons are on every celeb’s speed dial and their dentist’s number right underneath.

So now I’m wondering if the Boston Tea Party was actually about dental issues.

Perhaps King George wasn’t just crazy and over taxing the colonies. He was also a believer in brown, crooked teeth.

I did hear that Benjamin Franklin was quite the ladies man. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was concerned with his appearance, including a bright, white smile.

And George Washington had false teeth made from a variety of materials, including ivory and even human teeth.

So I guess dental issues were part of our history after all.

Whatever the reason we split from the UK, Americans have some marked differences with our British ancestors. I mean besides the fact they believe they are morally superior to us renegade colonists.

It is often surprising to me that their values are so far removed from ours. Begs the question, was that something that was always the case, or happened after we split? I’m thinking they are just jealous about our great July 4th barbeques.

Now the whole anti-Jewish thing is no surprise at all. They even threw the Jews out of England.

In case this is a surprise to anyone here’s a bit of history that may clear up how the Brits feel about Jewish people.

According to the British Library, in 1290, King Edward I issued the Edict of Expulsion ordering all Jews from England. This was the first time a European state had permanently banned Jews from its territory. The reason included the king’s financial needs and rising anti-Semitic sentiment. 

Issued on July 18, 1290, it required all Jews to leave by November 1, 1290. What they could carry they could take, but their homes and other possessions were forfeited to the king. Jews were not allowed to return to England for over 360 years. 

Quite ironic when one realizes Queen Victoria’s favorite prime minister was Benjamin Disraeli, born Jewish.

After an argument with his synagogue Disraeli’s father had his children baptized into the Church of England, but remained a Jew his entire life.

Just a little history and some irony there. And perhaps the King could use some of the money his family stole from the Jews to fix his teeth.

Brits are not known for being good at expressing their feelings, maybe communicating with their dentist is a problem.

Their neighbors the French have good teeth. Of course, the British attitude toward the French is long known. But hey, it’s pretty much everyone in the civilized world’s attitude when it comes to the French. I can’t criticize them for that one.

So, what has any of this to do with teeth?

I suppose it’s the fact that although the British are so concerned with other people and their flaws, they don’t see their own. Is this usually the case with many people? Yes.

I believe the phrase highfalutin may apply here. Their overblown opinion of themselves and their constant criticism of Americans and minorities.

No, the Jewish people weren’t the only ones deemed not good enough for them. Indians and blacks didn’t have any picnic in the UK either.

So maybe “physician heal thyself” might come into play. Hello, you are the King of England. Your concern for the planet is admirable, but check out your own mouth.

Is this a lack of vanity or simply a lack of priorities? Are teeth the end all be all of public diplomacy? Am I being mean?

Okay, a little mean, but they have it coming.

Still, a smile says a great deal about how one wishes to appear to others; and how they chew their food. Teeth are something one can do something about today, so what’s their problem?

Although in England showing your teeth may only apply to their beloved dog’s growl.

Or sneering at those they deem beneath them.

Continue reading “Brusha, Brusha, Brusha. Here’s the New Ipana…” →

Oh the Amazon Van is A-Coming Down the Street…

“Oh the Wells Fargo Wagon is a coming down the street
Oh please let it be for me” The Wells Fargo Wagon from the Music Man by Meredith Willson

Everybody loves Christmas, holidays and birthdays when those presents arrive from relatives and friends. Boxes filled with unknown surprises and goodies no one can predict, but is so exciting to receive.

Yep, nothing quite as fun as opening that box, ripping off the paper and seeing something fun and wonderful just for you. Soul food for the inner narcissist.

So is it any wonder Amazon is making astronomical amounts of money when they provide Christmas every day of the year?

Most people have become quite accustomed to ordering from Amazon. In fact, we grew so used to buying online we branched out to do most of our shopping. We began seeing far less of those stores we once wandered about in searching for that perfect purchase.

So what has led to our decision to let our fingers do the walking over the keyboard?

No surprise it has now become a regular and integral part of our lives to see packages in front of our front door.

Even if it was sent by us to us, doesn’t seem to matter much really. There is a level of wow- there’s-something-waiting-at-my-door-for-me excitement we may have become a little addicted to.

Okay I realize I’m using a word with a relatively negative connotation for something I’m coloring as positive. Yet isn’t any feeling that you continue to crave kind of like an addition no matter how minor?

I guess Amazon could be considered the Wells Fargo Wagon of our time. Driving down the street in a van instead of a horse-drawn wagon is quite high tech I admit, but the feeling is the same.

The fun of opening something that you received and wanted. Or especially didn’t even know you were getting.

I know we’ve all returned home from a shopping trip at the mall and one by one opened the little treasures we found on our excursion. And yes, I know this may be a chick thing more than a guy thing, but to put it in words a man can relate to…it’s like returning home from the hunt schlepping a deer on your hood or wherever it is attached.

At first, we were all a bit skeptical of the whole ordering online thing. I myself still clung to the whole touchy, feely love-to-shop in a store experience. We embraced the home shopping experience with a bit of trepidation, but then we suddenly got it.

Wow, more stuff to buy and we don’t even have to leave home. And no shopping hours.

Oh yeah, we got hooked and the shopping networks got rich.

Was it any surprise that the Internet would figure it out really quickly.

I think my total addition to Amazon began to truly take hold during the pandemic.

Up until then it was marginal at best.

I still enjoyed the whole brick and mortar experience. Loved the mall and walking around outdoors checking out store windows.

After all we are creatures of habit and my habit was to walk through a store and check out the merch.

Then something changed.

During COVID we were forced to let our fingers do the walking and searching for what we needed and coincidently, a whole lot of stuff we didn’t.

It became a new way of life to just sit in front of the keyboard and check out thousands of options for anything we wanted.

Let’s face it, unless you’re an Olympic runner you couldn’t cover that much territory at shopping brick and mortar in an hour as you can online.

There is a certain excitement to knowing instead of three pairs of acceptable black pants you now have access to hundreds without walking a step.

Can anyone wonder why women embraced this new experience?

Yet men liked it also. Checking out guy stuff and having tons of choices to compare and contrast proved to be a good way to do business.

So now everyone is happy checking out choices and bargains online.

It was almost hard to believe there were so many options available for anything we wanted.

During the pandemic we bought hand sanitizer, home disinfectant, puzzles, cleaning supplies and food. Lots of food. Although we couldn’t bring it in our house or open it immediately. We knew those evil little COVID germs may be lurking on the surface.

I even sprayed the outside of my food containers before opening them.

Then I took frozen foods out of the cartons and put them in the freezer unboxed.

Oh do not mock me, I’m sure you were just as freaked out as I was. Even looking for cool masks became another excuse to shop online.

Let’s face it, we were all programmed to be nuts at that point and over-the-top paranoid.

So returning to the whole online shopping thing, Amazon became the go-to place to get what we needed to survive.

It doesn’t take much to see we were being trained to seek and search for the necessities of life with a whole new attitude.

Why leave home when Amazon and the entire retail world delivers to your doorstep with one click.

Ah, and it’s that one click thing that sealed the deal.

So easy to understand the fun of having something placed outside your door just for you.

So easy to understand how taking the lazy road can easily become a habit and the total convenience factor was seductive.

If you live in California add to that a governor who believes that no day should end without a gas price hike and gasoline can never cost too much, and it becomes very easy to rationalize staying at home to shop.

So here we are, boxes up to the ceiling filled with goodies we probably don’t even need, but were compelled to buy.

Breaking down boxes is my new pastime and running to UPS to return stuff my new job.

Life has changed now that the Wells Fargo wagon is a-coming down the street every hour on the hour. Like Pavlov’s dogs we have been conditioned to salivate every time the doorbell rings and we hear…”Amazon delivery.”

Oops, gotta go. The sixteenth pair of black slacks I ordered just arrived. Hang on Amazon, I’m a coming.

When Did I Become a DJ’s Song Introduction?

How many times through the years have you heard a DJ introduce a recording as an oldie but a goodie.

I now realize that I have become exactly that, an oldie but a goodie.

And what might you ask makes you think you are a goodie? Oldie one gets without the need for an explanation.

Perhaps it is the fact my memory now resides in Google and the things I remember and treasure are on Facebook pages I share with thousands of others. We realize there is a limited number of us who are aware things we once adored ever existed. But thankfully I can still recall the things that made childhood so special.

Of course the very accomplishment of reaching that certain age, puts you in a category that should be applauded.

As Barry Manilow sings, “I made it through the rain…”

So if indeed I did, and we all did, then what now?

What is our next great achievement?

Becoming an oldie but a goodie seems rather lackluster, although damn nice to hear.

What is our next stage? Antique?

Rare antiquity? Salvageable?

Should I run every time I see someone resembling Indiana Jones heading in my direction?

Is my fate to stand alongside Cleopatra’s barge in some museum as an example of how wrinkles evolved?  

It must give one pause. So I’m pausing. Largely because I need to more often now. Pause I mean. Racing through stuff is no longer the option it once was.

Currently, sharing becomes selective. Telling your grandchildren about meeting Soupy Sales loses its flavor when they turn to you with a blank stare and ask, “What’s a Soupy Sales?”

I now understand our accomplishments, exciting moments, and fulfilled goals must be taken at face value. Our face. And despite the fact we now have so many more moments to share, there are fewer left who have any idea what we’re talking about.

Thus the need for Facebook pages dedicated to stuff that happened sixty years ago.

So finding an old hanger from a department store we hung out at over sixty years ago that no longer exists seems exciting to us. Especially when you can post it on your Facebook page and there will actually be others who are equally jubilant.  

I dread to think what would happen if Facebook disappeared and we had to wander the streets talking to ourselves or anyone who would listen about how we found the recipe for J.L. Hudson’s Maurice dressing..

I’d prefer to tell my grandchildren that elevators used to have uniformed people in them pushing the buttons and opening doors.

Still, as their eyes glaze over you might regret not posting about it on Facebook instead.

Here’s a scary thought. What if you had to go through life boring everyone you meet until you heard snoring as you recount how you lost your skate key from around your neck.  

Can you even imagine how millennials would look at you if you told them your mother filled twenty books of S&H Green Stamps to get a toaster?

Or that a bank used to give small appliances away to get you in the door to open an account?

Now you’re lucky if there’s anyone there to even help you at a teller window.

I don’t believe they want to be bored when you share these little gems from your past. I just think young people can’t in any way relate. Let’s face it, things are very different now.

There is no way anyone would believe you didn’t pay for light bulbs or Bill Knapp’s gave you a free cake for dessert on your birthday.

It so begs credulity you may as well walk into a party and announce you just arrived from Mars on the Concord.

Telling my grandsons we had trucks driving through the neighborhood selling baked goods. Or a milkman dressed like milk sounds like a fairy tale to kids that can order anything they want with one click on Amazon.

Yes, I understand that times change and life moves at breakneck speed, especially as you age. Still, is it so terrible to believe Clarence got his wings when that bell rang?

I agree living in the moment may be the right thing to do. But is wanting to remember some of the happiest times of your life and share them so bad?

I feel lucky that my grandsons will take time off from building robots or Minecraft and listen to my tales of the past. Sure, a yawn may slip out, but they listen. And at times they are even intrigued by my tales from ancient times like the fifties and sixties. Or the events that colored our lives in the past.

I can’t tell you how often my grandson has asked me to tell him about the day JFK was assassinated because he knows how important a memory it is for me.

So even if it’s a pity listen, I’ll take it gladly because it’s borne out of love. And at least he understands who John F. Kennedy was and how much he meant to Baby Boomers.

I know we need to have a balance now. It’s important to keep making new memories as we selfishly guard the old. Exactly what that balance is, don’t ask me. I still consider a balanced breakfast a sleeve of Oreos dipped in a glass of milk.

I Actually Bought Matches Today

I actually bought a box of matches today on Amazon. I don’t ever remember buying matches before.

My entire life I always had tons of matchbooks lying around and never thought twice about lighting candles, burning sage, setting my hair on fire, or whatever.

Now although many prefer using candles lit with batteries, I still find myself needing matches.

So, I went where I always go, to Amazon and ordered matches. Surprisingly they ran the gamut of prices, from twenty-seven dollars to $2.98. Guess which I bought?

Talk about burning through money! Twenty-seven dollars for a match? Unless they burn solid gold, I’m going with the cheaper model.

Okay so you’re wondering why I am wasting time opining about matches, but stay with me here.

Matches are a symbol of the loss of what I call the freebee.

Yes, there was a time in America when everywhere you went there was stuff lying around to take home.  The goal was you’d use it all in advertising their product, store or whatnot.

Banks gave out pens, until I’m not quite sure when they started nailing them down to the counter.

Every restaurant had bowls of matches next to the mints when you left.

Calendars were a biggie. They reminded you of who furnished them for a solid year.

All sorts of premiums were given away gladly to ensure your continued business. Even candies were wrapped in a business’s name.

So why has this all changed and I now have to buy matches on Amazon?

If you’re thinking, wow she is cheap, complaining about some two-dollar matches.

Well, that’s not the point, although it did bug me a little.

Like old people who buy Sweet ‘n’ Low in a grocery store. We all know they don’t. But hey I do, so there. Not so cheap huh?

What is getting to me is wondering if they gave up all this freebee stuff how are they planning to get our attention now? Personally, I don’t like where this is headed.

We’ve already witnessed why matches are no longer necessary to grab your attention every day.

Computers and AI. That’s right the big C and little AI are now in charge of all the brainwashing.

If I sound paranoid it’s because I am.

It’s like a little invisible robot is following me around the Internet.

She just checked out a blouse at Macy’s, jump on it. Suddenly I’m receiving not only a picture of that same blouse on every webpage I enter, but more as well.

At least the restaurants with their free matches never followed me home and harassed me every second to come back and eat there again.

It doesn’t matter what you check out on line someone is there to remind you to buy it, visit it or come back to the site.

It’s uncanny how fast they move. They even add products that may go along with what you checked out.

Like if you search for a dining room table, suddenly you’ll see ads on your Facebook page for the matching chairs.

It’s like your own secret shopper is stalking you across the Web.

Now I’m not saying I’m dumb enough to believe we have any privacy in our lives anymore.

Hello Big Brother I feel you!

But come on, even shopping? Is nothing sacred any longer? I mean a girl and her charge card is a special relationship and should be respected.

Why should Google care if I need a new blouse? Have these people nothing better to do?

I remember the days when it was fun to window shop. Stores closed earlier then and it was fun some evenings to simply walk around and check out the merch after dinner or a movie. You’d notice how they displayed the products to get your attention especially on the holidays when everything was decked out to entice you to buy, buy, buy!

Believe it or not actual people thought about what mannequins to use, where to place them and what fun accents would draw more attention to each window and product.

Now little bots crawl around the Internet checking what you notice and reporting it to the head Bot. I don’t remember voting for a head Bot.

If this sounds creepy, I agree.

No one ever followed us around from store to store as we admired how a window was decorated. Unless they were a stalker. But there seemed to be a whole lot less of those back in the day.

Now our stalkers are little cyber beings that track, report and let Big Brother know our desires, taste level and how much time we’re willing to waste on line each day.

Supposedly there is a way to stop them from tracking your whereabouts. I’m certain that is a ploy to lure you into an illusion of privacy and they just make their little robots more stealth.

Gotta go now. Amazon is at the door delivering my matches. Hey what’s this? My Facebook just popped up with an ad for a lighter? Actually, I should have thought of that myself. Sad when you realize the little bots have better shopping genes that you. How depressing for a woman.
Thinking about all of this I am remembering how exciting it was when our family bought its first television set. Who knew eventually it would be the TV watching us one day?

Eating Brownies on Mars in a Bikini

I am quite aware that my life has become a skit on the Carol Burnett Show.

Watching Burnett as Mrs. Wiggins walking all hunched over was funny indeed. Now, not so much when it takes me twenty minutes to stand up straight after sitting.

Funny it seems although your hearing slips a bit as you get older you can clearly hear your bones creaking just fine. Perhaps my father’s excuse about not hearing my mother because he was getting deaf was a ruse?

So now that spry is a word that means being able to get to your Amazon delivery before the porch burglars beat you to the punch, we must find new ways to be happy. To avoid guilt over those activities that once gave us pause. To embrace eating a whole pie while standing at the counter and evening off the sides.

And bless the gift of rationalization, I use it more and more.

For instance, did you know that brownies contain eggs and walnuts. Well, you do have to add the walnuts, but still. Do you see what an education we received from foods? And how much they help us?

Add to that the fact most people enjoy a glass of milk with their brownies and now you have a healthy snack with protein, vitamins and endorphins. You see, you have to look at things the right way. If you use dark chocolate the brownies are even healthier. Something about antioxidants.

I believe we can all agree on the fact fruit pies are a real boost to your health. I mean blueberry alone is one of the most applauded foods. Antioxidants and vitamins and they even taste great.

How about apples with the whole “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” rep? So eating an apple pie is healthy, right? I’ve heard really good things about cinnamon too so cut me a big slice, please.

And let’s not forget lemon and lime pies. Hello, vitamin C there.

Pizza taught us how to divide a whole pie into slices. And the meaning of bliss.

TV dinners taught us to compartmentalize. Twinkies lesson; that some things indeed are built to last forever.

I know some experts say frying foods is unhealthy, but here’s the thing. If frying chicken is the only way you will eat chicken, then doesn’t eating protein make up for the frying thing?

How obvious is it to everyone that Cracker Jacks taught us that life is filled with surprises, good and bad. Like when you had to share and your brother got the prize inside.

Let’s talk about macaroni and cheese for a moment, shall we?

Okay so many believe it’s a heart attack on a plate. And yes, the cheese is pretty abundant if it’s a good recipe. But hey, cheese is protein, so that’s good. And if you add the milk, it’s calcium up the wazoo. Let’s remember we need that for strong bones.

And please, just adding a bit of bacon to that mix is extra protein. Need I say more? Healthy, delicious and a staple in everyone’s diet since the days of Kraft’s blue box when we were kids. No excuses needed on this one. Heart attack on a plate my eye.

I doubt anyone could argue that balancing the cream in our Oreos taught us more about ratios than fourth-grade arithmetic.

Reese’s Peanut Butter cups. One could say it’s almost the perfect food.

I’m sure I could go on all day about how foods we love that have been so maligned can offer some nutritional benefits. And yes, I understand fully that sugar is not our friend.

Yet in small amounts, unless you’re diabetic, sugar should be okay. I mean let’s say you bake a batch of cookies. Most make about three dozen or so. If you only use one cup of sugar and divide it between 36 cookies. I mean unless you eat the whole batch yourself in a day is it really so bad? Okay, so I guess it’s possible for some people to eat them all.

There is a point here I promise.

We have grown up with more changes to health advice from so-called experts than grains of sand on Caribbean beaches. Please don’t even start me on that crazy food pyramid thing.

So which is it already? Is fat healthy or as they now say, good for you?

Are carbs okay to eat or actually our enemy?

Is it all about vegetables or is protein the key to health?

Duh, your head could spin from all the diets and experts changing their minds every ten minutes.

And perhaps this constant change in attitudes toward foods creates more anxiety in us about eating anything at all.

And as we all know stress makes us eat even more. So if they would make up their minds already we could all calm down and enjoy a BLT in peace.

Now after much rationalizing and making excuses for eating the foods I love I have a new solution. I truly believe this will be more effective.

Space travel. Yep, just hop on one of Elon Musk’s rockets and high tail it to Mars. I said Mars, the red planet, the place where the little green men live. And there is a reason they are little green men.

If you weight 100 pounds on earth, on Mars you only weigh 38.

Sounds like a hell of a weight loss plan to me. Who the hell needs Ozempic when Mars is the obvious answer.

So I’m off to the kitchen to bake some brownies to take along on the trip.  I’ll see you all on the red planet. Now where did I put those walnuts?

Please Protect My Depends From Evil

Please Protect Depends from Evil

There is no doubt in my mind I’m not the only one who has to hire Hercules to open my packages nowadays. Does anyone but me say nowadays nowadays? Anywho I was talking about trying to open packages I receive from online and buy in stores.

It seems there is a movement underway to prevent anyone over sixty from accessing their purchases.

Not only are packages impossible to open, I can’t even understand how you would even find the right place to start anymore.

They come in convoluted boxes and plastic covers that are almost impossible to expose. Does it open on the side, the top, or somewhere in between? Is this a Martian ploy to drive us all crazy and move in?

The configuration is completely foreign to me. So I wind up slicing through the entire box until I find a crease that will produce the contents. Or just try to find a scissors strong enough to cut the container apart. Maybe Robert Downey Jr. will loan me his Iron Man suit?

If these newfangled and I’m not sure anyone says newfangled anymore either, boxes are a challenge, let me tell you about the bubble wrapped ones covered in plastic. They are built to withstand a nuclear holocaust and along with the roaches will be the only things left intact after World War III.

I have tried to open them with scissors, obscenities, knives, rocket launchers, a crowbar and a prayer. Nope, nothing works.

Some do allow access if you bend the entire wrapping backward. Then you can almost see a slight opening only someone who works out every day could even pull back.

By the time I open these damn packages, I’m too weak to use what’s inside.

So I must ask myself, is this a plan to kill off old people and lower the population?

I have heard of certain cultures that believe if someone lives too long, they’re outta there. So is this the new way of ridding the planet of those who are past their prime?

Ah, so I see, it’s an old people test of some sort.

Like a carnival arcade game.

Open the wrapping and prove you are fit to stay on earth.

Hmmm? If this sounds like some dystopian plot, have you tried to open those new boxes from Amazon that use the same glue as NASA on its rockets?

Not only can we tear every muscle trying to open up a new can opener or bottle of make-up, we can also go mad trying to figure out which end is up. Or worse slice our hand off trying to cut the darn things open.

I have spent a lifetime trying to figure out which end is up and now, just when I think I mastered the test, there are these boxes.

Ah but who is behind this evil plot? Is it SPECTRE? Or Austin Powers? Come back to us Sean Connery. Come back!

Just like there are senior friendly caps on prescriptions shouldn’t there be the same for boxes? I mean we could check a box on the order whether or not we are old. If that box isn’t too small to see of course. Then they could send us easy open containers.

I don’t want to get all Gray Power about this, but don’t seniors have rights? Shouldn’t we be allowed to open boxes as easily as a body builder? Can’t they test to see if anyone but Arnold Schwarzenegger can open these containers?

Even a bagel has a plastic support invention to cut it open safely.

I guess I have to ask myself, who are they protecting my face cream from?

Is there some type of corporate espionage we don’t know about?

Is Charmin secretly ordering boxes of Northern Quilted to copy their softness secrets? My ass is flattered they care so much. Perhaps Proctor and Gamble is protecting my Oil of Olay so that Chanel can’t steal its anti-wrinkle formula.

You would honestly think the key to Fort Knox was in those boxes. Well the joke is on them because the U.S. is so broke they will have to go somewhere else to find any money now.

I understand merchandise must be protected from shoplifters. But now that’s it’s all under lock and key can’t they ease up a bit on the packaging? I mean is Metamucil really in danger of being stolen by a herd of constipated elephants?

Can an eighty-year-old woman really shove a giant size box of Depends into her purse?

Is there a run on cases of Ensure in drug stores? And could an old person really lift one?
But are these products designed to be protected in the stores? Or as I am prone to believe, from anyone opening them post purchase? Perhaps they should return to using the blue dye attachments that spray your face?

Corporations spend a fortune protecting products with unopenable boxes each year.

Just a thought here. Perhaps the money would be better spent installing metal detectors in every school in America to protect kids instead of Ex lax? Just saying.  

We Must Fight to Keep the Shopping Gene Alive

As the story goes men are hunters and gatherers and women are nurturers. Oh please don’t start with me about the whole woke stuff, my generation accepts the old ways. Sort of like the Jedi and the teachings of Yoda and Obi Wan. “Shopping do we must.”

It’s a well-known fact that men hunt, but it’s also true that women scavenge also. Just not in the forest. Our jungle is the mall.

We hunt for bargains in clothing and objects to buy that will bring us a sense of satisfaction.

I mean let’s be honest here, finding your favorite shoes 75% off is a rush that brings jubilation. There is even a certain shopping smile one can recognize on the face of a woman who comes home laden down with treasures after a day at the mall.

So the other day my friend Jan and I were shopping at a store in Beverly Hills. In a blissful state of excitement just to be in the midst of gorgeous clothing, handbags and of course shoes, we were shocked to find the number of salespeople far outnumbered customers.

Now it’s not that we need an army to shop alongside us of course. However, there is a certain shopping energy that women absorb when they are in hunting or as we know it shopping mode.

In language men can understand it’s as though there is one prize deer and every hunter in the forest is out to bag it. Yes, I know gross.

But that’s kind of the same energy a woman feels at the after Christmas sale at Bloomingdales as she seeks out the perfect sweater to go with her new slacks.

It’s not just that the shopping energy has waned but there is an innate fear amongst many of us that the stores and malls will completely fade away. I mean without Black Friday America would fall into instant decline.

Many malls have already closed and more and more people are shopping online.

You can shoot a canon through many stores these days and hit no one, and that is frightening. Oh the humanity!!!

Online shopping is fine for a certain purpose. I certainly wouldn’t badmouth Amazon. The truck pulls up to my door plenty, but when you are in a store and walking around you see things you can’t see online. A pair of shoes that call to your feet, a jacket with your name on it, a handbag you’ve been wanting for ages that is now on sale. The adrenalin rush to buy it before someone else spots your prize.

These things don’t happen online.

Online is a far more focused shopping experience. More targeted toward a specific item. Yes, that works fine for a special purchase, but sitting on your tush on the computer is not the same as being out in the forest of fabrics we desire. After all, how many women can sit on the computer all day and shop? Sure we’d love to, but let’s be realistic here.

Our shopping gene needs visual contact with the merchandise.

We need to spot it in the sea of blouses on the rack as we pass by. Then we must slowly creep up on it and eye it more closely. We touch the fabric and if it awakens our senses, we move through the sizes silently hoping ours will be there.

When we find what we are seeking, we head for the dressing room carrying our prey, occasionally to be stopped by a salesperson asking, would you care to try that on?

Lord talk about an obvious question. Of course, we do. Our eyes are glazed over with anticipation. Okay special exception here; if we are bloated, we would rather try it on at home after the water weight diminishes.

After we are led to the room, we slip the silky fabric onto our body and turn toward the mirror.

Our eyes are fixed on the fit. Perfect, just as we knew it would be.

We have done it. We’ve bagged a winner and there is still a mall filled with prey we can sleuth out and capture. Women have needs.

Yes, we are hunters and gatherers and we crave our shopping fix.

So what will happen if the stores close? How will we fulfill our need to satisfy the shopping gene? That desperate urge to possess fresh new items.

I worry it will disappear, like our tails. When they were no longer necessary evolution just eliminated them from our body structure.

I dread to think that when the malls and stores are gone our shopping gene will be lost to the ages.

Can you imagine years from now women reading about a shopping gene they once possessed, but has gone forever.

Two future teenagers look up from their computers and one texts the other?

What’s a shopping gene? Puzzled emoji.

The other texts back, I don’t know, look it up online. Annoyed emoji.

Shopping gene: A genetic predisposition by women to enter stores and seek out clothing shoes and other items. This was accomplished traveling in pairs, groups or alone. It was done in a place called a store, either standing alone or in a mall.

She texts back what’s a mall? Question mark emoji.

Look it up I’m on reels here. Annoyed emoji annoyed emoji.

A mall: a place where people shopped that contained stores and restaurants.

She texts…that sounds cool, why don’t we have them anymore? Smiling emoji.

No one cares, we don’t shop now, we just take what is sent to us. It works fine. Are you complaining? Scary emoji.

No, no I’m fine with it, I have no desire to drag around in stores looking for stuff to buy. Laughing emoji.

Good then let’s get back to our computer staring. Who cares about ancient history? Disgusted emoji.

Wow, the other one texts. Did you know that America was a country that used to have restaurants where you could eat inside? Surprised emoji.

No but that would be kind of awful because you’d have to actually sit and talk to people face to face. Yucky emoji.

I know, boy those people were primitive! Shocked emoji.

LOLOL emoji sent back.

And that my fellow mall seekers is how the shopping gene will disappear. So girls it’s imperative we shop as much as possible to avoid losing vital parts of us we desperately need.

However, if I could just do something about losing that chocolate-craving gene I’d be so fine with that. Sad emoji. Fat emoji.

Hey! Boomers Exercise, Too

Hey! Boomers Exercise, Too

Someone asked the other day if I exercise at all. I indignantly responded that it depends on what type of exercise one means?

I must admit my exercise is age related. In other words, appropriate for someone in their laugh laugh, golden years to be doing.

They looked at me quizzically and I said I suppose one could say that yes, I actually get a great deal of exercise. Just not the same as one might be doing in their forties.

For example, when young you might do a series of yoga poses like cobra, lotus, downward dog, happy baby, etc. All very effective and good for the body and soul. Whereas I might do another type of yoga pose like say snoring dog, where I fall asleep on the floor while watching television with one leg up on the ottoman and the other on the floor. Good for the inner thigh muscles.

Or instead of cobra pose I might fall on my stomach and reach for my phone for an hour while I try to slither forward to retrieve it. I call that one the Apple worm slide pose. Same idea just a different name, but great for stretching.

Of course, the most exercise I get each day is moving the heating pad from one part of my body to another. You’d be shocked at how much exercise is entailed in picking up the heating pad and adjusting and shifting it into a new position. Wait, shouldn’t walking to the wall to plug it in count for something? And how about all the steps to take the heatable neck roll to the microwave? And the balance it takes to keep it around your neck?

I am very well aware of movement and I must say I get plenty each day.

First there is the number of steps to take my meds in a timely fashion. Each glass of water I ingest with my pills equals at least three trips to the bathroom. All cardio is welcome here.

I counted and most of my steps are a result of bathroom trips and I also count the ones to the bathroom during the night. I’m just not sure if the ones after midnight should count in the previous day or current day’s step total.

There is a great deal of hand exercise that goes on each day punching the phone to make doctor appointments. Keeps your fingers agile. Sometimes it might take as many as four or five calls to get through to a human being.

I am adamant that putting on spanks should be counted as weight training.  Does anyone have any idea how much muscle it takes to pull those damn things over your hips? Who needs dumbbells when you’re lifting your whole lower body weight?

I don’t discount how much energy is expelled when bringing in the grocery bags from Amazon and putting the food away. I refer to that particular exercise as the Amazon cardio/muscle building combination.

Does it count as resistance training if you stop yourself from eating a second sleeve of Oreos?

Recently I have been the recipient of comments from numerous people that my eyelids look anorexic and very wrinkled.

This is obviously the result of constantly closing them to avoid watching politicians when they appear on the news. I do also count bending and ducking their constant bullcrap whenever they speak for those newly lost inches on my waistline.

I am always working my upper torso by what I call the no-no-no workout. This entails raising my arms to tear my hair out over the crazy lies that come out of Washington. Who says politics aren’t healthy?

A great Cardio workout is easily accomplished just trying to find a salesperson in a mall. I only spend half the time traveling from store to store these days, because just walking through Macys to find some help can add up to a thousand steps.

One must not forget the health advantages to preparing meals. I mean walking to the freezer, removing the Lean Cuisine, walking it to the microwave, waiting for it to cook, placing it on a plate, opening a drawer to take out a fork and then walking into the dining room can provide all the steps you need in a day. I’m tired just thinking of it.

I’m not certain, but I believe it’s fair to count head shakes when my daughter asks me if I’m getting enough exercise.

The up and down movement of yes, I am, counts for something, I think. I mean it helps the back and neck muscles, right?

There are some lesser exercises and after all each step counts.

Things like answering the door for the cleaning service.

Never valeting my car in LA, which I count as quite a commitment to my fitness regime.

Dressing and undressing for every MRI, CT Scan, X Ray and doctor’s appointment surely must increase that activity level.

I’m not sure; does moving your eyes back and forth when you read a book count as facial exercise?

Many of my friends tell me they get great upper body breathing exercise from screaming at their husbands to get up and get their own damn diet coke out of the fridge.

There have been many studies proving it’s easier for Baby Boomers to get back into shape than today’s children to get into it. This is due to muscle memory from our active childhood lifestyle.

This sounds great in theory, but one must keep in mind at our age one cannot be certain our muscles still remember any better than we do.

Oh yes, I know how important it is to move your body each day so I make a conscious effort. There is of course a problem when you are intent on getting in as many steps as possible, and your body is intent on stopping you from doing just that.

But I have learned that with a constant supply of ice packs, heating pads and Motrin on hand, I shall prevail.

So take that Gluteus Maximus because Baby Boomers never quit!

Hmmm, how many calories do you think I just burned typing this blog?

How Could I Know I’m Such a Wuss?

How Could I Know I’m Such a Wuss?

I have been without electricity all day. Now you’re thinking…and so, what’s the big deal?

Okay I can see why you’d think it’s no big whoop. After all once there was no electricity and oil lamps and wood fireplaces lit and warmed the home.

Yes, but that’s the point. Unless we have oil burning lamps I’m not aware of in this building and a fireplace filled with wood and kindling, it is rather hard to make it work.

And by it I mean your computer, your phone, your refrigerator, your oven, your lights and pretty much your life.

I have never been one of those people who believe they are totally dependent on modern conveniences to survive. I pictured myself as a rugged pioneer type who could cope with hard work to get things done. Me come from strong stock! 

Able to cut firewood and pump the water from the well. Carrying the milk in from the barn after milking the cows. Having cows!  

Boy was I wrong. I now truly believe I can’t exist without the tech junk. And Lord, what a wuss I am.

Tomorrow I shall go to Costco and buy a slew of battery-operated candles to hide away for another day when heaven forbid there is no power.

Can’t open the fridge, can’t phone a friend because I didn’t charge my back up charger, and no television. Oh my! I keep staring at the TV waiting for Netflix to appear.

Talk about desperate, I was sitting in the dark garage with my car on charging my phone.

How on earth did I get so darned reliant on power?

Yesterday sitting on the couch, I felt an earthquake. Nothing huge, but enough of a shaking to make me hold my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop, literally.

Yet today, although I was prewarned about the power outage, I found myself unprepared to deal at all.

Can’t find the batteries for the flashlights because it’s dark in the closet where they’re kept.

Ran out of matches years ago and use the gas stove to light anything. Too bad my gas stove needs electricity to work.

No news programs and what if there is actually some good news for a change? Okay, I can still dream can’t I?

My grandsons and I can’t play our usual Roblox games on facetime because, that’s right…no phone or computer.

I have decided that if the power doesn’t come back on soon and it gets really dark in here, I may have to go to my daughter’s house.

I’m sorry but I prefer my SUV to a covered wagon. I can tough it out for only so long before this whole frontier crap gets old.

And it’s getting old fast.

It’s cold in here and I’m under a blanket wondering if there will ever be heat again.  I’m actually eyeing that old chair I want to replace thinking it would make great firewood. 

So where did she go? That frontier, pioneer Norma I had anticipated would rise to the occasion. I don’t see her anywhere, probably because it’s getting so damn dark in here I can’t see anything.

So am I shocked that I am such a lily-livered-spoiled-tech dependent-modern convenience-needy person? Damn right I am.

The fact I can’t seem to find enough to keep me busy one crummy afternoon without the stuff I’m used to having and the habits I’m so used to living makes me sad. Hashtag/books on Kindle.

We all have a routine and I guess I have seen firsthand how difficult it is when that routine is interrupted.

Should I be more flexible, more able to roll with the punches? 

I mean what would happen if a UFO landed and took out the grid in LA? Oops, we’d all be toast here. How would Gavin Newson buy his hair gel?

What do you mean my latte isn’t ready?

Hello Door Dash are you there? Door Dash please answer.

It is unbelievable how spoiled we are. 

Good luck to my neighbors with EVs.

So who is responsible for this bunch of cowering weaklings?

Modern science that’s who.

The aliens must be watching and laughing their gray asses off, if they have any, at how easy it will be to defeat us.

“Just turn out the lights and all we have to do is wait.”

Wow, I forgot, Rod Serling wrote that show 60 years ago for The Twilight Zone and he called it The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street. Yep, he predicted it all didn’t he?

Well, I’d love to watch it right now, but you see I can’t because I have no damn power!

I guess I could go for a walk, I hear there is an outdoors with sidewalks and grass and a sky, but it’s cold. In LA anything under 60 is too bitter to endure and I’m too lazy to bundle up.

Lord I’m a helpless, lazy boob.

I guess I should invest in a generator as I now understand those things are worth their weight in gold.

I’d check on Amazon and buy one, but I have no damn Internet!

As I stare at the cable box waiting for signs of life like a child watching chocolate chip cookies bake in the oven, I’m tempted to open the windows and let the stench of the candles clear out of here. But it’s too cold and there’s no heat so at this point I have to choose between darkness and freezing.

All my favorite programs won’t have been taped because the cable was out so I’ll miss them when the TV comes back on, if it ever does.

Boy I can’t get over what a whiny, weak, crybaby I am. Wah wah wah my cable box is off. How will I survive?

I’d order pizza for dinner, but I have no phone. 

By tomorrow they’ll find me frozen and starved in here hugging my cell phone in a fetal position.

I’m forcing myself to be positive and believe the lights will go back on soon. That the furnace will suddenly return to life and begin blowing forced warm air through the ducts. That the cable box will glow and blink with blue numbers reading 12:00 and the fridge will click on and begin refreezing the Hagan Daz.

Of course there is an upside to all this. I was about to clean the make-up drawers in my bathroom and throw away stuff from 1994, but it’s so dark  I have to put it off.

I also have been afraid to open the freezer and eat a pint of stress ice cream because I don’t want to thaw the food, so saving calories is also good. 

My eyes are kind of happy because staring at a computer all day does tire them out.

I’m trying to be positive here so help me out.

The workpeople are already a half hour later than they said they’d be finished, but it is the cable company after all.

I guess it’s good to be divorced from all the tech for a day. 

I’d check and see if any studies have been done on that subject, but I can’t Google right now!

At least the music on my computer works and Ella Fitzgerald sounds really good.

Music sooths and all that. Wait, I saw a flicker, gotta go, can’t talk now there’s some Hagan Daz soup with my name on it.

Everyone Please Stop With the Rush to Rush The Seasons

Anyone who enters a store in this country is usually surprised to see merchandise for sale that is applicable four months in the future. 

The other day at Costco I couldn’t believe all the Christmas stuff and it was only the beginning of September. What is the rush to sell plastic Santas when we haven’t even pigged out on Halloween candy or roasted our turkeys yet?

Is it done for financial reasons? If so why would it make any difference if people bought their synthetic Christmas tree in September or in December? It’s not going to spoil and the price isn’t going to change in a few months. 

I’m sure Halloween candy is already marked half off and we haven’t even hit October first. It seems to me it’s better to wait and get fresher candy, but obviously I’m missing something here. Besides if you buy your candy earlier you eat it all and have to rebuy it anyway. Ah, so maybe that’s their plan. 

Trick or Treat hasn’t changed its meaning since I last looked. I mean kids are still coming to the door hoping for extra-large candy bars and avoiding the houses that give out the healthy crap. 

Then why the rush to move time forward? Who the heck is so anxious to get older? I thought the goal here is to stay younger and all the plastic surgeries, procedures and health nutty things we do are supposed to accomplish that goal.

I would think in this day and age when turning on the news is far scarier than Halloween could ever hope to be, people would embrace and savor the fun and binging on sugar that holiday provides. Why hurry it along when you can enjoy every moment and every candy bar?

Who is making the decisions to speed through the holidays instead of enjoying them like a homemade chocolate chip cookie warm from the oven or a mornay sauce prepared by a Michelin Chef? What’s the hurry here and why?

So I have been thinking about this on many levels and I’ve come to a few conclusions.

Individually these holidays that come in the later part of the year have their own distinct flavor and personalities.

I’ll start with Halloween because that is one of my favorites since it involves begging for free chocolate and no one handing it to you and saying, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll gain weight?” And besides one can always disguise themselves to look like an Oompa Loompa and no one cares what you weigh. I’m just assuming someone could do that, I wouldn’t know firsthand or anything. 

But I digress, so we were talking about the differences of each holiday.

Halloween is about dressing up in funny costumes and wish fulfillment on many levels.

The desire for sugar goodies and oddly enough the desire to create a new identity for oneself.

Choosing a costume we can evolve into our favorite super hero, movie star, supernatural creature or anyone or anything we choose. Damn you could even be a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup if you want, but back to the point here. 

It’s quite fun actually to be something or someone other than us one day a year. A fantasy moment that’s safe, uplifting and hurts no one.

Halloween has always been an enigma to me. The fun is interlaced with scary and spooky. I find it quite interesting how so many supposedly normal people are so fascinated with the macabre. It must be the fun of that adrenalin rush of fear combined with the sugar rush that creates an unbeatable high. Again, I’m just guessing here.

Let’s face it, there is a serious curiosity about Satan and his friends. Who hasn’t wondered if the devil truly exists only to watch someone like Charles Manson and be horrified by the reality that yes, indeed he does.

So why are devils, ghosts, goblins and witches still such a part of Halloween and won’t they still be there in October when it’s closer to the actual holiday? Isn’t real life scary enough for everyone these days? Why rush fear?

Must we begin to explore our inner desire to be Casper the Ghost in August when October is two months away? If it’s a retail decision isn’t the same money spent in August still good in October?

I understand the whole Fall theme that evolves as soon as Labor Day comes. Summer pastels are replaced with autumn colors. Homes and stores are filled with the smells of cinnamon and spices promising cool crisp days, cider and apples and fun hayrides through the apple orchards. 

Believe me I’m not arguing that Fall is an enticing season. It’s my favorite and the mild weather and beautiful colors are alluring, so that may be why everyone is so anxious to start the journey as early as possible. I get that, but what’s with the plastic Santas before we even think about how many pounds the turkey should be?

Is this some sort of slight against turkeys? Has America’s favorite holiday fallen into disfavor or something? As far as I know Macy’s is still planning their parade, Football will be playing on every big screen TV in the country, the Detroit Lions will probably lose, and homes in America will be filled with the same smells that have whetted appetites for over two-hundred years.  

Birds will be basted, marshmallows will be melted on top of yams, stuffing will be overflowing from Turkeys covered with herbs and the pumpkin pies will sit cooling on kitchen counters. Yes, it’s the best time of year when families come together to celebrate their favorite meal and spend the day eating until they are sick, bloated and fall asleep during half time. Gotta love America.

Okay, so I see why people, especially today are in a hurry to celebrate something. 

But isn’t rushing Christmas kind of sad? I’ve noticed as I grow older the Christmas Chanukah season seems rushed. It’s as though everyone is kind of over stuffing their faces and shopping, and Christmas is the last stop before New Year’s Eve. So maybe we’re speeding through instead of luxuriating in the moment?

I know everyone is full to the brim and burned out from the Black Friday sales, but ending the year with Santa and those greasy Latkes is rather special. 

Even Hallmark has started showing the Christmas movies earlier. I love how in their winter movies there’s fake snow on the ground and summer flowers blooming right across the street. But I digress.

Perhaps that’s the problem after all. By the time we get to the holiday we’re just over it. We’ve shopped, planned, gathered and cleaned and by the time it arrives it’s almost anti climatic.

Maybe if there wasn’t so much lead time we’d enjoy everything more.

Last minute Christmas shopping used to be a thing. It kept the adrenalin going and created excitement. Stores and malls were filled with shoppers rushing about, carrying bags and checking their phones to ensure that sweater they bought for Uncle Albert is the right size.

No offense to Amazon, which by the way I couldn’t live without now either. Yet rushing through the mall, stopping to meet a friend for lunch and talking about an updated version of a favorite recipe is all part of the joy. 

I guess what I’m feeling here is that hurrying the seasons diminishes our ability to enjoy what should be the happiness of living in the moment. 

Let’s face it, in today’s world we are bombarded with not-so-great stuff, so if we can hang onto joy a bit longer why not? We probably all need a little Christmas right now.

Perhaps that’s the secret retailers have discovered. By stretching out the holidays, they are actually making all the happy last a bit longer.

I guess that’s their holiday gift to us.

Here’s my delicious recipe that combines Chanukah and Christmas in each bite.

White Chocolate Peppermint Mandelcotti

(Okay, so I made up the word)

A mandel bread/biscotti Christmas and Chanukah recipe 

1 cup canola oil

1 cup sugar

3 1/4 cups flour

3 eggs

1 heaping teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon of peppermint extract

1 cup white chocolate

½ cup very finely chopped peppermint candy for inside recipe

¼ to ½ cup finely chopped peppermint for the topping

1 cup melted white chocolate for drizzling on top of cookies

Place oil and sugar in mixing bowl and mix well. Add eggs and mix until well until incorporated. Add extracts and mix.

Add baking powder and salt to flour and mix through

Add flour to wet ingredients in ¼ cups until done. Check for consistency. If dough is too wet add small amounts of flour until the dough has some body and isn’t loose.

Add white chocolate and peppermint and mix through.

Divide dough into four parts and form them into long rolls and place them on parchment paper.

Bake in 350-degree oven for approximately 20 minutes and check for doneness. Don’t overbake because you will have to toast them. 

They will probably crack and be light brown on edges when done

Lower oven to 200 degrees

Let cookies sit for five minutes and cut into slanted slices. Separate them and place on baking sheet and bake until they are toasty to the touch, the longer in the oven the crunchier they will be so it’s a matter of taste. I like them to have a bit of softness left inside.

Let cool and melt chocolate.

Drizzle over cookies and then top with crushed peppermint while chocolate is still melty.

To give it a more holiday feel you can alternate the crushed peppermint on the top and use both green and red peppermint for a more Christmassy look.

A Little Sunshine, a Lot of Rain Makes My Fig Tree Happy Again

Makes My Fig Tree Happy Again

I don’t know why but human beings need a lot. Sometimes when I’m ordering from Amazon for the fifth time in a day I think, why the hell do I need all this stuff to function?

But we do. Sad really that humans have put themselves into a position where we perpetually demand…stuff.

Stuff.

Lots and lots of stuff.

Toothpaste, soap, food, towels, cable television, air fryers, band aids the list is endless.

If you think I’m exaggerating try going to the drugstore sometime and walking out with only one thing.

Or check out Costco. Baskets filled with giant sizes of products that could feed a family for weeks.

Humans demand a great deal to function.

We not only need things, but we need emotional stuff too.

Love, caring, support, kindness and all the other bits and pieces that make us feel wanted and loved. It’s in our DNA.

Cut to my tree.

I have a fig tree outside my window. The gardeners have chopped him up numerous times with no mercy. I’ve been devastated at times when I look out and see what they’ve done to this poor little green leafy object trying to survive.

He’s looked sick for months and then something miraculous happens. Rain and sunshine and suddenly he’s standing strong again. He’s taller and fuller and his leaves are green and shapely.

His little figs return and he’s off to the races.

All because of some rain and sunshine.

How many people do you know who can survive on rain and sunshine?

How many people do you know who can survive without constant attention or a great car or Starbuck’s?

I don’t pretend to know why humans are created as we are, but I suspect long before there was an eight-dollar cup of coffee we were able to get through a day.

Think back to cave times when it was only about the basic needs?

Today no one could even survive on basic cable.

Humans needed food and shelter. There were no designer loin cloths and of course fur skins came cheap and they didn’t buy them at Dennis Basso.

So we actually survived without Netflix, toilet paper or organic kale. I guess everything was organic back then and they didn’t even have to pay Erewhon prices.

So evidently we don’t need as much to survive…or do we?

Is there any doubt we could never continue to live in this world without all the “things” we have?

So of course I realize we’re not plants and need more than water and sunshine to flourish, but actually we need both of those as well, yet plants are very content to make do with just that. When did we decide we couldn’t?

How did we evolve into a planet full of hoarders?

Even homeless people push shopping carts filled with their possessions from place to place. We all seem to need things.

What if we gave everything up and went back to living simply without streaming channels, cars, pressed juices, and uber?

Once we were happy with nothing, but it would be impossible for us to function as human beings in this world now without all our stuff.

We’d survive, but we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves.

How would we pass the time?

We could take long walks. Yes but we’d need good walking shoes on the concrete. After all our feet aren’t used to long walks without proper footwear.

Oh and we’d need clothes cause people get arrested for going around in public naked unless you’re in San Francisco.

There’s that word need again, did you notice?

What am I trying to say?

I guess I’m a little jealous of my Fig tree. To thrive and be so happy with just water and sunshine.

Those things make me happy too, well of course the water has to be filtered, and I’d need sunscreen.

It just seems to me we’re all so addicted to stuff now. The things we need to need to get through a day.

All these “articles” make life so much more complicated. Not for what they are, but for the fact we need money to buy them.

And there’s the rub as Hamlet said, money.

Trees don’t need money to be happy yet as humans we’ve set up a system where we can’t live without it.

And not just a little…a whole lotta money especially these days.

With each dollar we need we move farther and farther away from the basics of life.

Yes, I seem to be channeling my inner sixties mentality when fifteen people lived in a VW van painted with colorful flowers.

When communes were all the rage until people outgrew them and went out into the world to become millionaires.

Jerry Rubin one of the Chicago Seven went to work on Wall Street.

So is there any way we can actually live a quiet uncluttered life if we choose to?

Well the hippy in me would like to think so. But the Yuppy in me hears the voice of Gordon Gekko, don’t be stupid… “Greed is Good.”

I guess we can never go backwards now when we’ve all been acclimated to need and want.

Let’s face it, we enjoy our nice cars, our good restaurants, our organic foods, our pretty clothes and our cornucopia of Apple products that get us through each day.

I suppose it’s the grand design after all that we grow and prosper. Constantly moving like a shark in the water and never standing still.

It’s just that my fig tree looks so damn happy and content out there soaking up the sun and he doesn’t even need sun block. Maybe more time in the sun might do us all some good, I’m sure it couldn’t hurt. I just have to go on Amazon and order some new trainers and I still have the last season of Succession to finish. Oh well, I can always soak up some sun tomorrow.

Coconut Sunshine Chicken Tenders

1 cut up chicken. Use thighs, breasts or drummettes

1 cup coconut

½  cup almond flour

½ cup panko

½ cup flour

2 eggs beaten

canola oil deep enough to deep fry

salt and pepper

Cut chicken into pieces as desired may be strips or chunks

Combine dry ingredients

salt and pepper chicken and almond flour, panko and coconut breading mixture

Dip chicken into flour, then egg and finally into all three dry ingredients combined.

Drop gently away from you into the 350 degree oil.

Fry until chicken is cooked on both sides, approximately 5 minutes.

Drain and serve with pineapple sauce.

Pineapple sauce

1 cup crushed pineapple

1 tablespoon apricot preserves

1 teaspoon ketchup

Mix together in blender or food processor until combined but still chunkyish.

Hello, Where Did the Fun Go?



Hello, where did the fun go?

Has anyone seen the fun lately?

Whatever radar allowed me to seek and discover fun is now gone or may I say sorely lacking.

I can’t speak for anyone but myself but I’ve noticed more and more that parties, get-togethers and all around good times seem to have disappeared from the planet.

Oh some might say it’s the fault of that evil COVID monster and I’m certain that played a large part, but people seem so conditioned now to just staying at home and well, just being.

Are we all a bunch of Ghandis now? Meditating over what to watch on Netflix? You can’t have a conversation anymore without a friend asking if you’ve seen this or that movie or series on a streaming channel.

Ohm, British Baking Show…Namaste

I can’t believe how many friends have told me in the last few weeks they are very content never leaving the house.

Eerily, it seems it’s all come to pass.

Many years ago Trend Queen, Faith Popcorn who publishes the Popcorn Report focusing on future trends predicted all this.

How did she know?

She wrote that in the future, and that was over twenty-five years ago, people would adopt cocooning as a lifestyle.

Choosing to stay at home and building home media centers and larger kitchens and be more into eating at home. How did she know?

So if she predicted this so long ago is she psychic? Did she know a pandemic was on the horizon?

Was she in the Chinese lab or something?

I doubt that since she’s still alive, but she called it nevertheless.

It seems that no matter where I look, everyone is in a hurry to rush home and cocoon. I know staying in lockdown has changed the human dynamic a great deal, but have we all forgotten what it felt like to just see and interact with others?

During the pandemic most people had their own POD. Family members or friends they felt safe interacting with they saw regularly to keep from completely losing their minds, but now that everyone can go, the get up seems to have gone.

I can’t speak of course for young people who started the decline into oblivion pre-COVID when they chose social media interactions over human ones.

If you want to interact with a young person today you better know how to text.

Even I’ve noticed the preferred way to communicate now is by texting. So many of my friends now text to ask a question, where once it would have been a reason to initiate pleasant phone conversation.

It seems lock down has led to lock jaw.

I understand that sometimes it’s time efficient to text a question to someone, but you can’t gage the tone of a friend’s voice from a text. And no, emojis don’t work the same.

Most people my age can instantly discern from the first hello of a friend whether or not something is going on, bad or good.

Many times hearing a friend’s voice can lead one to probe a bit further and suddenly there is a conversation that was desperately needed to help out with a problem or issue. How can friends be there for one another if they don’t have a clue about the situation?

Perhaps someone should create emojis that hone in on any issue.

Like hands sticking a knife in a heart to signify, “hey I’m on the verge of a collapse here.”

Or perhaps someone tearing one’s hair out to connote a divorce is imminent.

I definitely think there should be one with a crying refrigerator designating difficulty staying on one’s diet.

And of course the hangman’s noose to say, “help, I want to kill my husband.”

A fat belly with a happy face to connote your having a new grandchild or flowers on a grave that says, “call me, I visited a loved one at the cemetery today and I’m a mess.”

Or a woman swallowing an ocean that screams loud and clear, “I’m too bloated to live.”

These are all things we once said to a friend over the phone and talking about it helped the pain or multiplied the joy or whatever someone needed at that moment. Now suddenly we have all retreated into ourselves and a phone conversation seems like too much work.

Sadly, many times we don’t even realize how desperately we need that conversation until we actually hear a friend’s voice.

Emojis can’t talk. They can’t sympathize, empathize or boost someone, or help a friend sort through what is bringing them down so you can lift them up.

Birds stay in their nests, but they sing to communicate and the song is beautiful.

I fully understand that in some strange way the lockdown showed us we can do well on our own, with help of course from Amazon. Yet I’m not certain that silence is all that golden and may be a bit overrated.

Humans need one another or God wouldn’t have given us voices. Oh sure at times the sound of a voice is the last thing you want to hear, but it’s truly what keeps the lines of communication alive and creates a closeness a text could never achieve.

I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when I say when we leave this party called life we will hear silence for a very long time.

I’m not so sure I care to rush the situation.

Sure it’s fun to watch a good movie and down some popcorn with your feet up in front of your own giant flat screen, but it’s also fun to go out to dinner, lunch, or shop with friends. Parties can be fun and sharing a concert or a play together is great even if it’s not so good. At least you have someone to bitch about it with on the way home.

The lock down is over but are we still prisoners of its consequences? Do we need to remember what life was like when we actually talked and socialized with one another? Netflix is no substitute for the smile or voice of a friend so call someone you haven’t talked to in a while and reestablish the lines of communication in the way they were designed. Otherwise Alexander Graham Bell wasted his life and that would be a shame.

Rustic Onion Galette

6 medium onions sliced

¼ cup of sliced leeks

1½ cups of heavy cream

1 small package (4 oz.) cream cheese

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon pepper

½ tea thyme

Pastry large enough for a tart shell puff or regular

½ stick of butter

Olive oil

Add olive oil and butter to frying pan and heat

Add onions, leeks and seasonings and sauté on medium heat until onions are just turning brown and beginning to caramelize. Add cream cheese and cream and continue cooking until cream reduces a little and cream cheese melts through well. Taste and add seasoning if necessary. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter in microwave and add 1 tablespoon of flour. Mix together and add to cream mixture until thickened.

When done place on pastry and fold sides up leaving a small opening at the top. There is no wrong way to fold a galette just as long as all the sides are folded around the filling. It’s a perfect recipe to be creative. Place it in a 350-degree oven for 30 minutes or until pastry is cooked.

You may also use this recipe for tiny tarts for hors d’oeuvres or add mushrooms to onion sauté and extra half and half or milk and make a delicious soup. Also great with some goat cheese or Gruyere sprinkled on top when warm.