gone pausal

What's so Happy about "Happy Hour"?

2009-07-01T09:20:00.000-07:00

I confess it was heartbreaking. Call me shallow, superficial, vain, and obviously delusional, but I never thought a bartender could ruin my life. I was happily sitting at the bar of my Seattle hotel, sipping a mediocre yet expensive Sauvignon Blanc, looking out at the incredible view across the water and gleefully anticipating my longed for salmon dinner. I had a new shiney cell phone, and hallelujah the 2,200 mile schlep across country was behind me. I was in a cute little black dress, strappy high heels, had put on make-up, blown dry my hair,and shaved my legs, yes, both of them...sometimes I lose interest by the second one. I'm thinkin' I looked pretty cute.

Then it struck me. Exactly like the moment I realized no one called me "miss" anymore...one day out of the freaking clear blue I was "ma'am". Wham! Pow, right in the kisser, I'm dubbed "ma'am". "You talkin' to me"? I'm not a "ma'am", I' CAN'T BE "MA'AM"! Aren't I too young? Quick a mirror, I needed a mirror, the witness protection program, a plastic surgeon! My mother is a "ma'am". That older woman over there, but not me! Crap. The loss of "miss" was a milestone. Do men suffer this way?

After ordering my second glass of wine, three twenty something blond girls walked up to the bar to pay their tab. Ok, ok, I admit, they were "hotties". I would kill for their wrinkle free complexions and perky skin tone. The bartender proceeded to tell them about "happy hour and free champagne on Saturday", practically pleading with them to come back and bring their friends. "Excuse me, I'll still be at the hotel on Saturday", I wanted to blurt out. What was I "chopped liver"? What about me? Was I invisible or remind him of mom? This couldn't be happening.... I was too old for happy hour!? Quick more wine. Suddenly I had lost my desire for salmon. Oy! Then the bartender turned to me and smiled....ah ha, he obviously forgot to tell me.... I felt relieved and much much better... all that anxiety for nothing. "Ma'am would you like to close out your tab"?

Seattle, Salmon, Andy and Luis, Oh My!

2009-06-27T07:03:00.000-07:00

No! No. NO! It couldn't happen. I survived eight states, 3 chicken caesar salads, two nights on 100 thread count sheets, and just when at long long last I reached my Seattle hotel room, my cell phone died. Dead. Doa. I burst into tears and threw myself on the bed in a fit of despair. Why me? Why now? Why why why when all I wanted was a piece of salmon?!?! I was soaking wet and in a towel when I made this shocking discovery. Crap. I can't live without a cell phone. It's the 21st century, I needed to communicate 24/7. I found myself screaming "I hate you" at the dead object. After I regained sanity I grabbed a pair of my ratty gym shorts (that are never supposed to be worn in public), pink flip flops, the shredded t-shirt I sleep in and ran down to the lobby dressing as I went. All bets of propriety/decency were off.

The concierge found the nearest AT&T store for me after I promised to finish putting on my clothes. I jumped in a cab , clutching my old cell. "I never dropped you! I kept you dry and away from large bodies of water, and this is what I get"?! I crossed two lanes of traffic and ran into the phone store throwing myself on the mercy of the man behind the counter. "Luis" was calm and thankfully didn't have me taken away in an ambulance . "Help me Luis! I need my phone numbers, my messages, SALMON"! He was so patient and I was so nuts. An hour later I left the store with a shiney red phone, a pile of re-bate paper work and his card. He sweetly told me to come back if I needed assistance as he'd be available nightly until 7:00.

I loved my new phone. It was sleek and had a lot of useless options. Most importantly I was back in the world of 24 hour communication. Except....the phone got hotter and hotter and HOTTER every time I used it. I felt like my hand was going to catch on fire. Was my little red phone a "weapon of mass destruction"? I hightailed it back to Luis at 6:45 the next night. "Andy" was at his desk? "Where's Luis, I cried... I need him, he promised he'd be here until 7:00"! "Luis had to go home to his wife", Andy calmly responded as he watched me sweat and pace. "But what about me"?! Who cared about his wife, it wasn't 7:00 yet! Andy patiently heard the tale of my little red "WMD", nodding patronizingly. He nicely took the phone from my hand and replaced it with a new silver model. "Can you set it up like Luis did", I whined. But Andy was on to me, " I bet you're pretty good at getting people to do things for you. I know your type". Hmmmm little Andy must have been a psych major. He was right but I liked him anyway.

I'd been in Seattle for two days...I had two new cell phones, two men who I thank for not calling the paramedics and no salmon.

"SURRENDER DOROTHY" ! or how I spent my summer vacay

2009-06-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

8 STATES! I crossed eight states in a car: Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and at long, long, long last the final destination Washington. Trust me there is no freaking way to make that ride short. No matter how many times I pulled out the map, checked the odometer, or stared at the time it didn't change the fact that it took up a significant portion of the years I have left. And btw I ate more chicken caesar salads than I care to remember. Don't drive across America if you don't eat red meat or long for a lively Sauvignon Blanc at the end of the day. Chicken Caesar salad and Chardonnay all the way to Seattle. And kiss high thread count sheets good-bye also.

What about the scenery? Why didn't I soak in America? Because I was hungry, tired and counting the miles. Wait, hang on just a sec, we did take a detour through the Badlands of South Dakota, which added approx 1 hour to the ride. Crap. And please please please can anyone tell me why they're called the Badlands and cost $$$ to enter? This is disturbing. And do they really need a gift shop? A tornado almost picked up the car outside of Rapid City, which in hindsight might have expedited the trip but at the time made me nervous about winged monkeys and the Lollipop Guild.

Ok, admitedly I didn't sit back and enjoy the ride. Does this make me a bad person? UnAmerican? Someone who needed to be medicated? Don't answer. By Washington all I could think about was a big piece of salmon and a wine list. Instead I got Luis and Andy.....stay tuned.

TWITTERING / FACEBOOK got you down?

2009-06-11T07:20:00.000-07:00

Lordy, Lordy, it was a miracle. It happened, it finally happened! I got a phone call. Big freaking deal? Yes siree, you bet it is. There was a voice on the other end of the phone,and not a text message. It wasn't a "twitter"... or I wasn't "Facebooked" or "Linked In" or "Tagged". And btw, to anyone who "tagged" me - you were DELETED. Although it's a cute name, go away. If you have something to say, use the English language and CALL ME! Remember Alexander Graham Bell? How about "one ringy dingy" or two ringy dingies" and not "you've got mail". I've Twittered away hours, and still have no idea what it means. I have a few followers but I look behind me and no one's there. Are they supposed to come over? I have friends on Facebook, and they write on my "wall" but not very often. Besides, what can you say to a wall? I'm lonely... and desperate for real time conversation.

Than like a dream come true my cell phone rang! "Hello, hello" I gasped in disbelief...IT WAS JANE! "Jane are you really there? Really"?! I burst into tears. I didn't know what to say. I stuttered "Where are you"? Maybe she was "following" me and was in the back seat?! "Hey Gail, I thought I'd call, I'm so damn sick of internet messages". I continued to sob. A comrade in communication at last. "Me too", I managed to choke out. It took me a few minutes to compose myself, no longer used to talking in real time...the pressure was tremendous, but I managed to carry on a conversation. Boys and girls it was purging!

I hung up satisfied, not stymied about whether it was time to "twitter" again or check to see if I was rejected/accepted amongst Facebook "friends". Oy! I miss the days of my powder blue princess phone. Call me.

"YOU'RE FIRED"!

2009-06-08T06:28:00.001-07:00

Holy crap, what if I lose my job?, There are lay-offs in every industry. I don't have an Alternate Job Plan B. Alternate Plan B is nowhere in site. But hold on just one sec, I have my own private art dealing business. At the moment that seems beside the point. I can look in the mirror one day and surprise myself by saying "you're fired"! Then what? What can I do? Nothing. Nada! Rien! I need a freaking plan. And resume. Terror strikes my heart...what would I write , "Want to buy a Picasso? Call me".

There must be something else I could do. How about Barrista? They have nice aprons and smiley faces. Free coffee would be a lovely perk. Yep, barrista could be me. Except what about short term memory loss, that's me also. Oh God, I can't remember anyone's mocha skim frothy venti , my mind is blank, the line is backed up around the block...children are crying, mother's are screaming, 6 men have missed their train and threaten to sue! "How about a nice black coffee for everyone" I yell out over the madness. I rip off my apron and run for my life. Ixnay barrista. Nanny? After all I was a mother. Except I can't help with math beyond the 3rd grade level. What if the children complain that I look older than their grandmother and that the last nanny was more fun and could play computer games. Next. How about the popcorn server at Home Depot? That doesn't look hard. Although I would look hideous in the uniform, orange is very bad with my hair color and I can't make popcorn.

Now what? Car mechanic? It sounds kinda sexy but I know nothing about car repair and don't have the right outfit. Hmmmmm. I vow not to fire myself until I can make popcorn.

"He's just not that into me"? ok.

2009-06-04T07:27:00.000-07:00

Girls, girls, girls, I still don't get it...Am I just stupid or is the world on "relationship tilt"? Last night I watched as light, viewing entertainment "He's Just Not That Into You". Deeply disturbing film. Half way through I was searching for a paper bag to breathe into. Come on now, are we that pathetic a gender? Are we really the sadder sex? Hopelessly flawed? Doomed to lonliness? Flailing around in dating limbo? AND that freaking desperate for a man? Phew, there I said it! Why, why, why is it we need so much advice about how to get a date? Was I absent the day they taught the "man keeping" lesson in school? Is there not one single solitary male alive who is sitting around wondering why he's a dating loser? It seems all they suffer from is exhaustion... from rejecting women. Wow, great movie huh? Hide your daughter's eyes!

I get news letters from some dating guru named Christian Carter. The Dali Lama of man trapping. He claims to know secrets.... the things that will make a man want me. Awesome babe. How to meet the right man and get him to need me. Yea! How to change things back to how it was when you first started dating . Yippee! How to push the right buttons so a man opens up to me. Zippity do da! And last but not least (or maybe least), how to "speak his language". Ta da! Isn't this great? I'm so close .

Men are lucky. They're hangin' out waiting for "advice letter" readers to behave correctly. And this is the very best part girlies, when we strictly adhere to the instructions we can finally have a man of our own. Praise the Lord and crap. I was never good at following directions.

I Have My "Doubts" too Meryl Streep

2009-06-01T06:45:00.001-07:00

"Attention Catholic Church attendees! Jew in sanctuary, Jew in sanctuary"! Yep, it's true I was at 5:00 mass. Truthfully I was a little nervous, would I be spotted as an imposter? A Jewish princess trying to go unnoticed at mass... are you asking yourself why, and did I dare take off my sunglasses? I had just rented the movie "Doubt", that could have been the impetus or naively thinking I'd spot Meryl Streep and Phillip Seymour Hoffman. I'm searching for a deeper answer but so far nada. The fact remained there I was and I was shocked and dismayed by my what I saw. Men, women and children in shorts! Huh? When did they dispose of the dress code? It's a Church people, not beach blanket bingo!

Admittedly I haven't been to Temple in quite a while.... do Jews wear shorts too? And if they do, maybe I should get my legs tan and go. Oh, but it didn't end there....jeans, badly fitting bermudas, teenie tiny skirts and the sin of flip-flops! Flip-flops I say! I was tempted to hide my eyes or turn to stone. I wanted pomp and a lot of circumstance, not "casual attire". Ladies in pastel dresses and hats, men in suits, children in uncomfortable itchy frilly clothes, where did they go?

My head bowed in disillusionment I turned my attention to the service. Was I at a rock concert? When did hip-hop become liturgical? "Stop the music"! "No, not another song"! I want a sermon not tunes. I was an English major, I needed meaning, metaphors, morals. I finally decided that either renting movies is a bad idea or I need to put on some flip-flops and find religion.

Julia Childs and Martha Stewart Unite

2009-05-22T06:26:00.000-07:00

Calling all men/women of the "cloth"! I need Priests, Rabbis, Televangelists, and Ministers. Bring on Shamans and witchdoctors; lotions and potions are welcome. Come one, come all and "bless my plants" before it's too late. The sun came out and my "black thumb" was restless and itching for flowers! Flowers! I need flowers. I want to plant, plant, plant! Show me the Impatients, Petunias, and Geraniums, I'm rearin' to dig. Big deal my indestructable ferns died. Or did they commit suicide? They were supposed to outlive me. What did I do wrong? I loved them so. They hated me. Were they Republicans? Maybe I wasn't "there" for them. Maybe we should have gone into counseling.

It didn't deter me however. I can be Martha Stewart... I know I can, I know I can. Armed with a trowel, gloves, and trays and trays of beautiful flowers I set forth. I was ready! With love in my heart and tears in my eyes I placed Begonia plants in what I've nicknamed the "flower bed of death".... "good luck little red guys, the Impatients didn't make it out alive last year but I know you can". Onward and with fingers crossed I carefully placed purple Petunias in pots with red Geraniums hoping they would "just get along". I was crazed, a veritable mad woman...pot after pot after pot; I was a planting machine. I could barely stand upright yet couldn't stop.

By 5:00 my work still wasn't done, but with a glass of crisp Sauvignon Blanc in hand I kept planting. I was apologizing to the Petunias and blessing the Begonias, I was drunk; I was the Julia Childs of gardening! Anyone know a Rabbi who makes house calls?

Biblical times, bad hair days

2009-05-15T15:20:00.000-07:00

Spring's over here in Chicago. It was one day. I put on a t-shirt , gym shorts and went outside. Wow, breezy, warm, the sun was out...I felt happy, light, and almost care free. Almost. The channel 5 weatherman wasn't grinning at me with his evil twisted smile forecasting snow. Although he did have a moment of joy in April when he said his favorite words "winter storm warning". "WHAT?!" I shreiked, running for the heavy medication and alcohol. "Snow??? It's April... April", I sobbed. "No, not snow, I can't take another flake. My parka, quick, where's my freaking parka? I'll be cold, alone, and covered in white"! I had to be blindfolded until the snow melted.

I was convinced after the very last teenie weenie flake melted that my meteorological panic attacks were over until November. Warm temperatures...short sleeves...no prescription drugs. Did I forget to mention I'm building an ark? The channel 5 weather devil is back and he's smiling in May. He's not allowed to smile in May! Rain, high winds, possibly "damaging" (his new favorite word) and flooding. Take cover, duck from the flying debris and be sure to carry an umbrella. Huh? It's downright biblical. My dog has mold between his toes and water wings on 24/7. Oh my God, my hair... look away or you'll go blind. I now use super glue as conditioner.

I'm not handy with wood or a hammer so ark building is quite a challenge. As for the "two by two" criteria; I don't think I have two of anything but I'm looking.

Step away from the buffet!

2009-05-11T05:59:00.000-07:00

The Sunday Brunch Buffet! It strikes terror in my heart. A culinary weapon of mass destruction. I say ixnay to any long table filled with plates. Is there a greater test of personal "will" than a buffet? A more devastating event for dreams of wearing a bathing suit? A seismic caloric catastrophy! Yet nothing says Mother's Day like BRUNCH! I ran and hid in my closet clinging to my size 4 clothes and the life I knew..."No, no, anything but a buffet"! But it was too late...

I marched eyes staring straight ahead into the restaurant and no, I did not wear pants with a stretchy elastic waistband to join in the gastromic tsunami. I was a warrior determined to spread my mother's brand of Jewish guilt to all the over eaters at my table; if I wasn't going to have fun neither were they. "Don't you think that's enough cream cheese dear"? "Another piece of cake, really"? Then comes the stare, and trust me it's a miracle you don't turn to stone. I knew the drill. I was ready to face down my fellow diners and the two rooms filled with long white tables of....

Lox, bagels, caviar (in 3 primary colors!), smoked fish, oysters, shrimp, creamed and fresh fruit (why bother?), 3 bean salad (for picnics only), beets, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, eggs benedict, blintzes, swordfish, chicken breasts, carved turkey, ham, roast beef, ribs, seafood Newberg, saurkraut (huh?), salami, herring (pickled and creamed,nicely non demoninational), a mashed potato bar (because?), and last yet least and why...cheese cubes! Anyone still hungry? Or able to breathe? Eclairs, brownies, apple struedel, sweet rolls, cream puffs, pretzels (huh again?!?), chocolate chip cookies, Oreos (tacky and Costco), marshmallows, whip cream, rice pudding, jello (for the calorie conscious?), cupcakes, chocolate mousse, pie, cake, custard, petit fours, and a CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN. Tums with your coffee?

I left with only a mild case of sugar shock and ok, ok, .... a pocket full of cheese cubes.

I'm "twitterish", are you?

2009-05-04T06:09:00.000-07:00

HELP! I'm "twittering"! I know, I know , a month ago I thought it was a neurological condition or a bird in detox. See , people over 50 can change? I have no freaking idea what I'm doing but I'm twittering as fast as I can. And crap, I have one more password to add to the other 150 I can't remember , all because a 26 year old girl at a cocktail party told me I absolutely had to "twitter". Really? I thought I had to have another drink. It's the only way to meet, greet , move, shake and promote yourself these days she insisted. Ixnay to Facebook, Twitter was the path to hipdom and apparently salvation. I'm thinkin' she's over caffeinated and needed a cocktail, and she's thinkin' I'm from an era when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.

I was already on Facebook, a radical move given my technological fog. Yea me! Sadly it was a complete bust. I had no clue how to join in the folly. I was stumped. Only three people made me their "friend" which I think is the point but I'm still not sure. I felt unpopular and lonely. Was the internet high school hell? Then Todd suggested I join Open Salon.com to participate in a more intellectual type banter. Trust me, no one banters... they drone on and on and on about themselves. "The short version people...I don't have the time or patience for 17 up close and personal paragraphs about your latest thought". If I wanted a really long arduous story I'd read Tolstoy.

Now where Todd and cocktail party girl? After three twitters in three days the thrill is gone. FYI: If you need to find me I'll be out roaming the Earth.

Ken Dolls grow old too

2009-04-27T07:21:00.000-07:00

Happy 45th Birthday Ken doll! Welcome to middle age plastic guy. Time sure does fly. I couldn't celebrate Barbie's big 50 and ignore your day. And kudos to Barbie for being "cutting edge" and dating a younger man way before it was hip. Hot damn girl you were a "cougar". Right on Blondie! Although truthfully, Ken was never my type. Bad bad clothes and although I desperately wanted to be a cheerleader ...I never wanted to date one. No megaphone boys for me. He also orginally had felt hair which fell off when wet. "Oh my God... Ken, your hair's at the bottom of the pool"! Gross. That must have been a big turn-off for our little Barbie in her itsy bitsy bikini. I know I would have dumped him after I stopped screaming.

Btw, did anyone know the plastic fantastic duo broke up in 2004? What could possibly have split them up, they seemed so perfect. Was Ken in full "mid-life" crisis? Poor Barbie wasn't a young hottie anymore? Ken, wake up you dope, she still had perky breasts, and a great colorist, unlike me. Did plastic boy buy a Porsche and start wearing Euro - trash clothing from Barneys while our girl was training hard to be an Astronaut , Nanny and Olympian? Don't fret Blondie there's always GI Joe. He must be out of the Armed Forces by now and have a very nice pension. Hopefully he's purchased some civilian outfits.

I'm guessing Joe's ditched the camoflage clothes and has flat abs. As for Ken....cheerleaders never age well.

Jewish Princess Blues

2009-04-21T06:39:00.000-07:00

Why didn't I take auto mechanics in school? I just watched a friend put a new engine in his truck...it was un freaking believable! I was awestruck. Tools, wires, cables, nuts, bolts, screws were everywhere, and he knew exactly what to do. Back in high school I was consumed with "what will I wear today?" and couldn't be distracted by transmissions or carburators. Instead, I indulged in the labor intensive task of searching my closet for another new fashion combo. "Nope, wore that 3 days ago", or "Mom, why isn't my blue print blouse ironed yet"? Yes, I whined when I said it, and yes, I arrived at college unable to iron. I couldn't do anything except match clothes. Learning how to change a tire or the oil would have been a whole lot handier and cheaper.

"Handy" people are a veritable religious experience to me. I'm dumbstruck by a person on a ladder with a tool in their hand. I want a tool too! Ixnay to the ladder, I'm afraid of heights. Am I hopeless? Or is it genetic? Perhaps I'm not predisposed to re-wire a lamp or fix a faucet. My indestructable and tenacious Jewish Princess gene must have gone on a search and destroy mission for all my "handy" chromosones. I have however, defiantly mastered jiggling the handle of a running toilet. Oh, hang on a sec, I can take off the top of the tank and look in.... I don't know what to do next, but it feels like an accomplishment. Eventually the irrefutable Princess gene prevails and I call a repairman. Curses!

I stare longingly at my friend's tools and wonder what it all means. I pick up a wrench and feel the urge to fix something. The urge passes. What should I wear today?

Frugalistas Unite!

2009-04-15T06:23:00.000-07:00

My time has come! I can no longer be labeled the cheapest woman alive..... (yes, it's true, so cheap I had buyer's remorse after I went through a toll booth). In these economic times it's morphed into good "financial planning". I'm not a curmudgeonous penny pincher anymore , I'm "frugal". Frugal is in, it's hip, it's conscientious, it's so 2009! Dad, great news, you're not a cheapster anymore either, you're a role model. No Netflix for him, no siree, it's Bonanza re-runs. Finally it doesn't look crazy when he makes his own lemonade with the free water and lemons at Panera! Wow,my dad is happening! I recommend you watch him and learn.

"Frugalistas" are the new"fashionistas". It's the hipster term for those who refuse to sacrifice style and not spend $$$ . The girls are trading clothes just like in high school. I wish I had my old Villager outfits to swap. Whoa baby, being cheap, I mean frugal, is cool! Clothing swap events are popping up everywhere. Unfortunately my "everything must go" closet sale has made it hard for me to join in so I'm sad because I love parties. I wonder if anyone would trade something in size 4 for my mink coat with one arm ? Yipee I want to be part of the fun.

I don't believe saving grocery money by growing my own food is in the immediate future. My luck with plant life would beg I'd starve to death before my first tomato appeared.

"Bathrobe Woman" vs. the economy

2009-04-09T08:20:00.000-07:00

I can't get out of my bathrobe. Help me! I put on clothes to go out for food but the second I get home I rip them off and my comfy green fleece robe goes back on. Not an attractive look I admit. I've tried to dress it up with black suede Kate Spade high heels, but it didn't work. And yet, as bad I look I can't take it off. I've become "BATHROBE WOMAN"! Step aside, Spider Man . Courageously wrapped in green fleece I have schlepped down the driveway for the newspaper. Weather is no obstacle! I haven't been arrested yet but a Jack Russel Terrier stopped chasing a squirrel to bark at me. Oh and a neighbor reminded me I wasn't dressed. Duh! I'm in my economic downturn outfit.

"BATHROBE WOMAN" keeps me safe from financial ruin. It prevents me from going out and buying the 2 pairs of shoes I have on hold at Neimans. It keeps me away from the cosmetic counter at Saks and Lord knows I could use some make-up. I stay home curled up with the L.L. Bean catalogue and any desire to buy new clothes vanishes. Just say a big fat "no" to khaki pants and topsiders. I sit in front of the tv watching re-runs of Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy wrapped in my cozy green robe, pissed it will be weeks until they resume new episodes but happy I haven't spent the $$ in my wallet.

Tim Geithner , Larry Summers and Ben Bernake can't get me down when I'm "Bathrobe Woman". I've found a way to beat the economic blues... home in my green robe.

Tory Burch, Cordani and me, oh my!

2009-04-03T07:41:00.000-07:00

I tried to buy a pair of shoes. I wish I had Tim Geithner on speed dial, because I really needed help deciding whether to "buy or not to buy"? Tim, Tim, Tim, that is the question. I was practically salivating as I stared at the fabulous Tory Burch sandals; oh and they came in red or yellow patent leather. I broke down and tried them on. So cute and almost comfortable. I had a color on each foot . I was shaking and a little nauseous trying to bring myself to pull out my Neiman's charge card. Ben Bernake, what's a girl to do? Save, spend, save, spend, save....I put them on "hold". I bought myself "time" not shoes. Much cheaper.

I couldn't stop myself, on to the next shoe store. I was crazed but focused. A pair of green, yes green Cordani sandals called to me from the shelf. As if hypnotized I asked to try them on. I needed to talk to President Obama, I needed government intervention! Help me I need regulators....or TARP money. I loved these sandals too. I was sweating and gasping for breath. Should I spend, spend, spend...buy both pairs in the name of economic recovery? Or save, save, save and have no cute summer shoes? Moments from fainting I put them on "hold" also. HOLD EVERYTHING!

I have no idea what to do. With two pairs of shoes on "hold" I'm in purchasing limbo and riddled with uncertainty. I think I'm going to pack a lunch and go try them on again. Perhaps by then someone from the Fed will have returned my call.

"Take it off, take it all off"

2009-03-31T07:08:00.000-07:00

Girls, girls, girls, good news! I heard on the Today Show, the adult entertainment industry is looking for new talent. Wow, career opportunities are sprouting up in the strangest places. Laid off from that cushy mortgage banking job....now you can strip and pole dance your way back to gainful employment. Do you get health insurance along with the pole? Yes, it's true women from corporate America have turned to Gentleman's clubs for job security. I wonder if Harvard business school will teach pole dancing instead of finance until the economy picks up? And crap if I didn't miss my chance, The Foxy Lady Club held a job fair! The competition must have been fierce as 1,500 people showed up. Truthfully, my resume wouldn't stand a chance against an ex asset manager from Goldman Sachs. And then there's my age...and the fact that I would feel sad hearing the words "Leave it on"!

I would have to carefully consider who my target audience would be. Are there clubs specifically for men with cataracts? Or night blindness? How about Octogenarians, don't they have poor eye sight and need a fun place to go? Would a Del Webb community be interested in a strip joint for seniors with... ta da!....senior strippers?! I've got my entrepreneurial thinking cap on. I heard the pay is pretty nice, as much as $1,500 a night; the auto union or Walmart can't promise me that.

Admittedly, and this is tough to admit, I'm a little nervous about wrenching my back pole dancing. I'm kind of a spaz around anything that resembles gym equipment. I fell off the rope in 6th grade and have never quite regained my confidence. "Welcome to Walmart".

Don't grow old with me,

2009-03-27T06:26:00.000-07:00

Forget my last blog on candy as the path to emotional comfort. It's time to choose between the happiness derived from a sugar high and living to 120. Now that's a tough decision and not to be made lightly or hopped up on a double mocha latte. If it's longevity you desire, "Put the Snickers down and step away from the candy machine". Dr. Ahmet Oz, Oprah's medical guru, says there's a way to be old, older, oldest. The key according to the Doc ; calorie restriction! Ixnay to the warm cuddly feeling a Twinkie provides. Want something sweet, chew on a sweet potato. Yummy, bring on the legumes and watch your 90's fly by.

Personally I don't mind the fruits and vegetables required or the paltry 1,500 calories a day, as when I'm not eating tiny Mounds bars I'm consuming pounds of produce. The real question for me is ....why, why, why would I want to be 120?!?!?! Correct me if I'm wrong but, does that sound like fun? And what WOULD fun be for a 120 year old cranky spoiled Jewish Princess? Lord knows, I'd probably look like crap and regret not having my face lifted at 100. I doubt I could wear my fab high heels for fear of falling or my little black strapless clingy dress for fear of scaring people. And for all you boys and girls who think I complain a lot now....OY! Clearly I'd have no friends and multiple restraining orders issued against me. Wow, good times huh?

Can you imagine what it would be like sitting around with fellow 120 year olds or those upstart kids in their late 90s!? What would we talk about?
Not sex . ... the visuals would be way too disturbing. Prune juice vs. Metamucil? I know this is a favorite subject of my 90 yr. old mother. Dr. Oz.... pass the Twinkies please.

Candy the anti-venom for TARP

2009-03-24T06:46:00.000-07:00

Candy is dandy and quicker than liquor. Yep, that good sugar high is fast and tastes oh so comforting in a quaking economy. I better stock up on my favorite tasty treats as I read in today's New York Times that with nerves shattering and stress levels rising people are diving for the closest candy bin. I however, love candy even when I feel calm and have cash. I confess I'm a penny candy junkie. Bring on the bite size Baby Ruths, Nestles Crunch, Butterfingers, and my beloved Mounds bars. Do not, I repeat do not come too close to me with a Mounds bar in your hand. And it isn't just urban legend, it's true I threatened 4 year old twin boys for complete access to their "trick or treat" booty.

At candy stores around the country business is booming. It's bigger than the sex toy industry which btw is also thriving and does anyone see a connection? Need I say it again, why, why, why isn't this the lead story on the evening news? Wouldn't it cheer everyone up? Snickers, Tootsie rolls, Mary Janes, Nonpareils, Sugar Daddies, Neco Wafers, and Mallo cups; who isn't salivating or doesn't have tears of nostalgia in their eyes? How I loved the chocolate Necco wafers and would pluck them out of the roll, leaving the other nasty tasting colors for my sobbing little sister.

I suggest however, until stock portfolios pick up you stay away from any sticky type candy. I once broke a tooth on a jelly bean and my 10 cent purchase cost me $1,200 in a new crown. Ixnay to gummy bears, Swedish fish and Skittles. Besides what possible emotional comfort can be found in a Skittle?

TWITTERING away the hours

2009-03-20T05:51:00.001-07:00

I'm confused. Am I supposed to spend $$ or save it? Shop til I drop, or squirrel away the quarters I accumulate avoiding expensive toll booths. George Bush wanted me to go out and spend, spend, spend and I'm not exactly sure what President Obama wants me to do with my cash. My friend Dan told me shopping is a big faux pas; it's chic to be frugal. Is it cool to be poor? Either way, desperately needing new underwear, I snuk into Target after dark in order to avoid social banishment or ridicule. And girls just in case purchasing becomes acceptable again, they have some darling little dresses and tops for spring all under $20. Btw, $5.95 for a 7 pack of panties. How about telling the country that piece of good news Bill O'Reilly or Chris Matthews!?

Confusion seems to be my state of mind these days. Can someone please tell me what TWITTER is? Apparently everyone is twittering. Is it a national nervous condition or newfangled form of communication? I'm not sure my nervous system can take one more way to communicate without human contact. I just heard I can follow hundreds or thousands of people's lives moment by moment on Twitter. Why, why, why would I want to do that? I've realized I've become a cultural dinosaur in my desire to actually talk to someone face to face. Oh God, not face to face! Quick, I need a Blackberry or IPhone... I NEED TO TWITTER! The truth is I just learned to "cut and paste" on my computer .... I'm a Dinotech.

Actually this morning was a landmark. I got an email from Facebook that someone made me their "friend". I almost burst into tears of joy. I was touched and once again confused. I have no idea what to do next or what it means, but it felt like I'm one step closer to being popular. The last time being my junior/senior years at New Trier High School.

Everything must go, go, go!

2009-03-16T06:46:00.000-07:00

Come one, come all! Come on down! I'm a little behind the new trend but it's never too late. All the clothes in my closet are for sale. That's right everything, and not just the nice stuff. It's an "everything must go" blow-out. Clothes for all seasons. And most of them are clean; except my parka, that's a little nasty unless you like horses...oh and yellow labrador retrievers. Ok, forget the parka I have a "dress" down jacket for that special evening out. It's black, it's puffy, it's warm, it has a "North Face" logo....nothing says "I'm special" like a logo...! Tell you what, to make this purchase even better I'll throw in at no extra charge, the slightly dirty mittens that are stuffed in the pockets. You heard it right and you heard it here first.

If you love black, I'm your closet. I have dresses, skirts, sweaters, coats, jackets, belts, t-shirts, and bras all black. Say good-bye to color and come on over. Here's another reason to shop with me and not at some ratty closet on Craig's list....I'm serving cocktails 24/7. Yep, even the champagne you've been craving but too cheap to order. I do however, have a strict "you stain it, you own it" policy. Hate to dress up and looking for something more casual? For one day only I'm willing to part with my old shabby "New York Sports Club" gym shorts and my ripped beyond recognition, 1986 New York Mets World Series t-shirt. Although either item must go to a good home.

To sweeten the sale even further, I will be spraying Estee Lauder's "Beautiful" perfume on the first 50 customers. Hey, if it's good enough for Gwenyth Paltrow...besides, then you'll get that familiar Saks feeling and forget you're in a closet. Better hurry, I'm getting a little anxious/sweaty and starting to re-think this incredible offer. Oh, and in your rush to get here, don't forget to bring $$$$.

Barbie is an AARP member !

2009-03-12T07:18:00.000-07:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR BARBIE DOLL,HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! I know I'm days late with the song, but I have memory loss. Besides who wants to turn fifty any sooner than they have to? She did get some nice tv coverage of the big event, especially for a plastic blond who has no opinion on the "economic recovery" package. Wow, the girl's getting old, although admitedly I'm older and do not have her perky breasts. Truthfully, blondie and I have very little in common.

First of all let's take a good hard look at her taste in men. A big ixnay in my play book. Ken? No, no, no! Way too preppy and more than likely was gay. As for GI JOE, ick, ick, ick, unless he was going to medical or law school after the Army, which I doubt. He liked his camouflage outfit too much and face it, he could never have supported her thousands of wardrobe changes on a military salary. She was a total fashionista. I must admit little Barbie had an extraordinary career run: flight attendant, nurse, art teacher, life guard, pilot, babysitter, cowgirl, paleontologist (huh?), McDonald's cashier, astronaut etc....wow, there was no rest for the "type A" blond bombshell was there? All I've been so far is an art dealer....not much time to play career catch up ...although Walmart greeter might be in my future.

Fifty has a way of sneaking up , even on a hot teenager like Barbie. Ha ha! And don't think all those years in high heels won't catch up with her... I suggest flats and Dr. Scholl's inserts. It's obvious she's already been to Diane Sawyer's plastic surgeon ...and listen up Barbie, I NEED HIS NAME AND PHONE NUMBER IMMEDIATELY!

My week with Warren Buffet

2009-03-10T07:24:00.000-07:00

I'm baaaaaack! A week on the road sure was fun.... packing, unpacking, packing ,unpacking, schlepping, schlepping, schlepping....all to make 1,893 miles feel shorter by stopping along the way. Obviously the Wright brothers hated road trips also. Scottsdale Arizona was first. Unfortunately I still have a headache from the "cowboy" Chardonnay they serve in the restaurants/bars there. I love when they color code wine and tap it like beer...yummy and saves time "corking" a bottle. Got Advil? I also discovered my yellow lab Elliot doesn't like to pee in the desert....too prickly. He tiptoed through the brush and then hightailed his pansy ass out. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find grass in Scottsdale?

Santa Fe was next and thank God they have grass. They also have turquoise...tons and tons and tons of turquoise. I thought I was in a 70's time warp, but then realized I wasn't high. Crap. The Whole Foods in town was having an arugula strike. That confused me...what exactly is an arugula strike and is there a Cesar Chavez for this fancy yuppie roughage? The dog peed, I did not buy any turquoise, and then hit the road still perplexed about the arugula. FYI, there is no Ritz Carlton in Amarillo Texas, or a 4 Seasons. There is a 1 season La Quinta. If thread count , and fluffy towels are not a necessity, you would love a weekend there. For the gourmand, Denny's and Wendy's are in walking distance and the smell of cattle is wafting through the air! AHHHHHH I love the smell of livestock in the morning.

Would the fun never stop? Or how many more freaking miles were ahead of me? I had Warren Buffet's book "The Snowball" on cd and was fascinated to learn he was as "cheap" as my dad. That's about all they had in common. Warren, Warren, Warren, you're a financial genius, but you can't take it with you! My dad however, is determined to. We stopped at a Cracker Barrel restaurant outside of St. Louis, which fyi DOES NOT serve alcohol but does have a nifty gift shop if you like Martha Stewart on steroids. I had 2 biscuits with my lunch which were tasteless but light and crumbly...ok, I was desperate , anxious, and sober.

I intentionally snuk back into Chicago after dark. Please don't tell the channel 5 weatherman I'm here or this endless rain will turn to snow.

On the road ...again

2009-03-01T11:13:00.000-08:00

So long Palm Springs! Two months flew by. Didn't I just get here all pasty white, sleep deprived, and cranky? Happily, I'm no longer white but a nice wrinkled shade of burnt umber, well rested ,because of the fluffy bedding and good meds, and a lot less irritable ...right?!right?!right?! I did have a nice stretch of low anxiety days, thanks in great part to the sun being out. Ahhhhhhhh light! Oh and no hateful, insidious channel 5 weatherman blabbing on and on about mind numbing, death causing cold. I'll never like that guy. Crap, I have his snarky face in my future. See, the crankiness is sneaking back in and I'm still in the SUN.

I have to admit as much as I love the desert, the bright light can really be a big bummer . I for one do not, I repeat, DO NOT, need to see my face so blindingly clear. Ouch babe! It's downright painful, scary, and depressing to see myself in the mirror in that much light. I had no freaking idea I looked that bad. How come no one told me...in a nice calming voice? No wonder all the women here have made a b-line for the plastic surgeon. One more week and I'd have hightailed it to the nearest guy with a scalpel also. "Here take my money and my face, and hurry"! Although my friend Betsy wisely suggested it's cheaper to just turn down the lights and only look at one small area of your face at a time. Right on!

I hope on my way out of town I see the man on Ramon Road dressed as the Statue of Liberty. It's a great costume. I should really stop and ask him where he got it, what he's promoting and how much he gets paid. I don't look good in such drapey outfits but the greenish blue color would be nice with my eyes, and I could use the cash. I'll miss him. Gotta get on the road , I can't prolonge the inevitable, inevitably. My dreaded North Face ARCTIC parka's in the trunk. Oh God, the words "artic parka" make me cry. I'll get back to you when I stop sobbing.

Where's WALMART ?

2009-02-24T12:26:00.000-08:00

Good-bye Target! I liked you so much, especially the BIG RED T, but I've got to move on. Out there on the horizon is your replacement. The lettering isn't as snazzy or the trademark color as perky but it offers so much more for me. Walmart! It's a veritable planet; the essence of ONE STOP SHOPPING. My eyes almost popped out of my head as I stood in the gigantic doorway... people rushing by toting families of 10, 11, 12, even a small dog who tried to bite me. Was I in Disneyland? I needed a map or Mickey Mouse to get me around. I was dazzled, dazed and about to faint. Slightly sweaty and a bit over anxious I started on my journey.

Want hair care or large amounts of Kraft Singles? Yep, both under one roof! I personally don't like processed cheese but quite honestly I've never seen so much. I needed my roots done and hair cut however. And how about a vision center next to the nail salon. Is that better than sex or what? Speaking of which, dying to fill that Viagra prescription or re-fill your Prozac ... just take a left at the vacuum cleaners. While you're waiting for the Prozac to perk you up , there's a "family fun center"with games, gumballs and a Flying Dumbo. Yipee! Being a wino, my favorite aisle wowed me. I've never seen such bargains; a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc for $2.00 less than I paid 4 hours earlier at Ralphs. I was depressed and made a B-line for the fun center. "UNBEATABLE" and "ROLLBACK" prices were everywhere which brought tears to my eyes.

I never thought it possible to put a new dress and a head of lettuce in the same shopping cart. Admitedly the clothes aren't as cute as at Target and I don't think I'll ever wear the $4 t-shirt with Tinkerbell on it, but the lettuce was only a dollar. On the other hand, instead of buying their clothes I can shop for material in the sewing department and make my own. Right. Would the fun never end here at planet Walmart? I hated to leave... but I had an overpriced bottle of wine waiting for me at home.