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…
Tag: Scottsdale
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…
Thoughts From The Shower…
Reddit, that arbiter of all things Internet has a sub called, "Shower Thoughts." As a bath girl my first reaction was, "Who knew?" Not that I've never had profound hit me in the face in the shower, I've just never thought to collect them. And most of the time, they involve published books so there's… Continue reading Thoughts From The Shower…
Who Does The Heavy Lifting?…
Some days it's about the heavy lifting. Guys and chicks are not the same. Argue all you like but girls rarely belch the alphabet and guys generally don't wear thongs, regardless of worries over panty lines. Hauling the Christmas tree from the garage and a new license plate bring it home. I jostle and lift… Continue reading Who Does The Heavy Lifting?…
Chrismukkah It is…
We hear it started in The OC. In our abode it's happening because Middle Chicken married Lawyer Boy, who's half Jewish and Baby Chicken's Southern Boy is much more Jewish. In our Catholic household, we couldn't care less what you are as long as there's wine. Fortunately, both Christmas and Hannukah involve fermented grapes. Although… Continue reading Chrismukkah It is…
Becoming A Dude…
I'm becoming a dude. I have a cold. I may be dying. It really is just sniffles, sore throat and aches. Standard cold stuff. My brain signals death is eminent. And then it hits me. In my old age, I'm becoming a dude. You might be too. Think about it. Ten, not to mention twenty,… Continue reading Becoming A Dude…
The Duchess Diaries 