Sipping coffee with a gal pal who says, "You should write about age. Age and jobs. Age and bodies. Age and dating. It's a pain in the ass." She's right. Aging is definitely different for the girls. Her frustration comes from a job hunt. She is a super-talented events and trade show planner looking for… Continue reading Vampire Lifts Are Not The Answer…
Tag: Scottsdale
What If “Everybody” Is Wrong?…
I wished for time to just "be." Ask and ye shall receive. I got tossed in the corporate moat by mutual agreement, me sitting back and waiting for it mostly. It was a long time coming. But will it make a great book? You know it. Yes, it's all about corporate greed and deceit. And… Continue reading What If “Everybody” Is Wrong?…
The Answer Is Easy…
A debate rages on TikTok. The harbinger of all things trendy and important to our existence finds itself on the losing end of man versus woman. Women are listing the many reasons they do not need, want, or desire a man in their lives. Men are calling bullshit. And they're mad. One gal says a… Continue reading The Answer Is Easy…
Did Someone Say Botox?…
Someone punched her Botox V-card. Result-why the hell did I wait so long? I, and my lineless forehead, are feeling kinda special, especially after waving goodbye to those nasty 11s. Since I waited sooo long to start, the forehead is not lineless but pretty close. Word is it gets better with time and frequency. Eyebrow… Continue reading Did Someone Say Botox?…
Hiatus, Schmiatus…
It's called hiatus and it's supposed to make you feel better, take a step back, reexamine your priorities, and probably even some more hocus pocus. Mine turned into almost nine months of not writing, not tending to my extracurriculars, and basically just working and tending to the needs of my job. The result? Hiatus, Schmiatus.… Continue reading Hiatus, Schmiatus…
My Esophagus Is Better Than Yours…
"You have the esophagus of a much younger woman." Well, there's a thought. Here I am, tormented by wrinkles making daily debuts, and it's my esophagus I should be showing off to the world. How does one get that designation to show on the outside? Seems radiation, the cancer gift that never stops giving, can… Continue reading My Esophagus Is Better Than Yours…
Blame The Thighs…
Writing suffers in the time of Coronavirus. Unlike Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Love In The Time Of Cholera, I don't become more determined, undeterred by obstacle. I blame my thighs. Thigh growth and spread engulfs all in its path leaving little couch room for even Skittish Tabby. He looks at them, eyebrow raised, "What the… Continue reading Blame The Thighs…
Lazy Takes On A New Level…
I have been known to wrangle the remote with whatever is nearby. My first and second toe have amazing grasping ability. I turn my couch cushions every week to fool visitors into thinking there's not a permanent butt indention. Lazy has never had anything on me. My spirit animal is the sloth. If I could… Continue reading Lazy Takes On A New Level…
Who Put Drugs In My Bag?
Staying in continues. Closets are cleaned. Pantries are organized and desktops appear. I spy something not cleaned--the Kate Spade tote sitting upon the counter. Tackle the makeup bag: Hand sanitizer check. Mascara check. Three lipsticks check, Toothbrush check. Wipe them down with a Clorox wipe. Organize wallet. Check side pockets--more lipsticks, a tube of vaseline… Continue reading Who Put Drugs In My Bag?
The King of All Things…
Tiger King. Even those with superior Netflix skills, who believe we've seen everything, were unprepared. Lovers of documentaries? There is none better. Dolls with a love for murder mystery? Check, check and check. Even Oldest Chicken, who believes nothing and takes skepticism to a new level, sent a simple text. "That chick totally fed her… Continue reading The King of All Things…
The Duchess Diaries 