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Friday, September 29, 2006


My chimes are a bit off.

Every hour my living room clock chimes two hours ahead. At 2 o'clock, I get four bongs ... at 6 I get eight.

This has been going on for months now, and as of yet, I've haven't taken the time to take the piece of junk off the wall and fix it.

Instead, I mentally adjust what time it is in my head.

I haven't even figured out why I count the bongs every hour in the first place.

Maybe I should just take granddaughter's Chloe's lead and say 8 o'clock every time it chimes. Or maybe I should lug it to work and rely on it around 3 p.m. to tell me it's quitting time.

Thursday, September 28, 2006


Put your eyeballs back in you head, men, this is not a see-through skirt.

They're just prints (of panties) on skirts that are all the rage with young women in Japan.

Supposedly the rage is coming to America, according to an e-mail circulating on the Web.

OK, so the skirts are not unlike T-shirts with rippling abs printed on them that some men wear here at the Shore.

But what do these skirts look like from the front? And, where do we draw the line for appropriate daywear?

Would any woman out there actually wear them?
It does get rid of the VPL (visible panty-line) problem.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006


A co-worker's daughter refused to eat the spinach, from a frozen package, her mother served for dinner.

Grocery stores whisked fresh spinach off shelves faster than Popeye could save Olive Oil from the clutches of Bluto.

Are we over-reacting to the spinach scare? Could terrorists be poisoning our food? Are migrant workers getting back at us for cracking down on illegal immigration? Will we be "strong to the finich" cause we eats our spinach?

P.S. Today's photo is one taken from an e-mail I was sent. I have no clue whose idea it was to put in the frog.


I feel guilty.

Why do I feel compelled to save birthday, anniversary and Christmas cards I receive? Am I so much like my mother (who had drawers and drawers of saved cards) that the inclination is deep-set in an inherited gene somewhere?

I can see saving hand-made cards or those from an extra special person in your life. Especially if they surprise you with one that has a meaningful verse that shows they gave it some thought before just whisking any one off the rack.

I hurriedly grabbed a beautiful red-heart card one Christmas Eve for my man and found out later it said Happy Birthday, my love, inside instead of Merry Christmas.

I'm sure he didn't save that one!

Monday, September 25, 2006


Big Sis has undertaken a major project.

She's chronologically scrapbooking pictures, letters, cards and anything else she can find into books to give each of us an account of our family history.

While she's been working on it for years, she went full time with her efforts after our mother died in February and we found dresser drawers-full of stuff she had saved.

Funny how you see the family resemblance when you look at pictures of family members' pictures taken around the same age.

Funnier that I compare how I look now with pictures of my mother at my age.

Friday, September 22, 2006


Sometimes friends and lovers just don't see eye to eye.

My man and I were perusing eBay to try and find an ottoman that would match an antique chair I had reupholstered.

Now, I'm a far cry from being an expert on period antiques, but I do know that the two chairs and sofa I just had recovered aren't vintage modern cubist Chinese, which caught the eye of Spud.

He liked the sturdy, geometric manly look of one piece, and soon (in our minds' eye) we were trying to tie the hand-carved, elegant Victorian set in with the square block Chinese piece.

Spud soon grasped the point of my furrowed brow and the "you're in another world, honey" glance.

Thursday, September 21, 2006


I think I forgot to wash my hair.

Every morning, half asleep, I trudge into the shower to start my daily routine which goes something like: turn on water, get wet, wash hair, wash body, shave, rinse and dry off.

Today, as I was finishing up, I couldn't remember if I washed my hair. I mean, it was wet, but I didn't know if it was clean.

Am I so preoccupied that I can't remember what I did (or didn't) do two minutes before? Am I experiencing signs of dementia? Should I have gotten back in the shower and started over?

At that point, I figured it would just have to be a ponytail day.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006


I'm card-carrying cripple who's legally authorized to park in handicapped spaces due to an accident seven years ago that almost took my leg.

After a year of therapy to learn to walk again without assistance, I was able to alter my stride over time so my limp is barely noticeable. But, that doesn't mean I'm without pain.

Here's the issue. I had an angry man approach me recently and say, "You don't look handicapped to me," after I parked in a designated space at the store.

I resented the fact that I had to explain to him that you don't have to LOOK handicapped to be handicapped. Take for example those with heart and lung problems.

So, what's a legitimately "handicapable" person to do? Exaggerate the limp?Grimace in pain with every step? Stop and gasp for breath?

I would think that blue placard hanging on the rear-view mirror says it all.

And, I would hope only those in need use it.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006


We are engaged in a silent battle.

I like to keep the can opener in the flatware drawer where I can easily find it; he likes to keep it in the utensil drawer (which is packed with everything else) because it impedes his search for the bottle opener in the flatware drawer.

And so it goes. Every day I move it back after he moves it out.

This has been ongoing for years. We are steadfast in our can opener-location conviction, and neither of us is willing to budge.

You'd think we'd find something more important on which to take such an unyielding stand.

Monday, September 18, 2006


Where the heck did summer go?

Wasn't it just yesterday that we opened the pool and put flowers in the planters.

Wasn't it just yesterday that we lugged out the hoses and deck furniture?

There wasn't enough summer this year.

Funny how fleeting it becomes, year after year, as time marches on.

Explain to me why one season after another seems to melt into the next as life flies by.

Friday, September 15, 2006


Today I'm attending a friend's wedding.

I'm wondering if it's really worth all that time and money since statistics show there's a more than 50 percent chance the union will end in divorce.

For legal reasons I'm all for marriage even though my man and I never have taken the plunge after 11 years of living together.

We don't want to rush things.

If we did get married, though, it appropriately would be sanctioned in front of Rodin's "Gates of Hell."

Thursday, September 14, 2006


I didn't think too much about it when, at my late mother-in-law's house, a light kept flickering and a breaker kept tripping. The electrician said it was a water-soaked line to an outside outlet that tied into others inside, and he fixed it.

Later, it happened again. I was a little spooked thinking that my man's mother was
trying to contact us from the beyond, but I quickly dismissed it.

Then, at my house across town, a few outlets in the kitchen stopped working. The next day we contacted the electrician. Right before he arrived, the outlets started to work again.

He said there was nothing wrong with them.

Last night, the cable wires to my bedroom TV came off.

I'm not saying they came out of the outlets, I'm saying the cable jacks on (not one but) TWO wires actually separated from the wires themselves, rendering them useless.

Now, that's creepy!

Wednesday, September 13, 2006


I have proof that some men can't follow directions.

Last week, I was waiting for the moving man to come and pick up some antique furniture I'm having reupholstered.

I waited and waited. From the detailed instructions I gave the shop's owner, the driver thought "right turn on to Bridge Avenue" meant a real bridge and ended up at the beach.

At least 10 phone calls later, I finally instructed him to stay at the local grocery store parking lot so I could come and get him to follow me to the house.

When he was leaving I reminded him to take a left on to Bridge Avenue ... he went right.

Later, I got a call from the upholsterer wanting to know where his driver was.

I told him he was hocking my antiques at the beach.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


I'm a bit relieved the 9/11 anniversary has passed.

The television media coverage was so overpowering and extensive that it made me physically ill.

I was heartsick as I listened to government-ignored rescuers who now are fighting lung diseases contracted from breathing debris-filled dust at ground zero.

A knot gripped my stomach for days after hearing the details of a son's cell-phone call to his father from Flight 175 as it headed for the South Tower.

Many other stories of survivors and the fallen brought me to tears.

I finally had to change the TV channel to some mindless program.

I understand that we should never forget and the media should inform the public on new developments, but I don't want to see all that needless loss of life, all that pain, over and over. There's no doubt I'll remember it vividly ... forever.

Am I out of line to think that we can honor those who died and served during 9/11 in quiet ways on that day, without a week of rehashing the actual tragedy?

Monday, September 11, 2006


Today marks the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on our country.

My man says we should be patriotic and wear red, white and blue to celebrate what a great country in which we live. I say we should be mournful and wear black.

Either way, we just want to show respect for those who lost their lives and support our country like millions of other Americans who will never forget.

Thursday, September 07, 2006


OK, here's a controversial subject for you.

How come they call it a lotion dispenser, but the hole in the top is too small to put in today's thicker lotion (unless you stand there and stuff it in, which is what I did).

An hour later, after filling the $10 dispenser with the small hole, I washed off the outside where most of the lotion ended up and screwed on the pumper ... and pumped!

And pumped! And pumped!

No lotion. Damn pumper didn't work.

I guarantee this would have happened to me, too, even if it had been a soap dispenser.


Dr. Son says I should write blogs that are more controversial.

I say I would if I had more ideas.

He's a big picture guy ... I'm not.

The big picture sometimes is too much to grasp, so I climb into the smaller world around me and stay there.

But I'm willing to try a few controversial subjects. E-mail me at with your ideas and let's see what we can do.

In the meantime, I'll just continue to report my frog's-eye view of the world.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


If it rains any more I'm going to go live with SpongeBob.

I know I was begging for rain in July when soaring temperatures scorched my heat-tolerant plants, but come on already, my hair can't get any flatter. Funny how some types of hair get fuzzy in the rain and other's go straight. But that's another blog in itself.

Blogger Pete sent me this picture he took of the little Nemos at Jenkinson's Aquarium.

All I know is that it's sunnier there.

Rain, rain, go away. Little Diana wants to play.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006


Goodbye vacation, hello depression.

Why is it when a vacation ends, the moody blues set in? Same thing happens on Sunday nights and during the twilight of summer.

Just trying to get up today was a chore much less getting back into the work routine.

But here I am.

Now, it's time to switch gears and start looking forward to the upcoming holidays.


Saturday, September 02, 2006


Looks like it's time to take a break and enjoy the holiday weekend with family and friends.

To all of you who labor, have a wonderful rest!

Photo, by the way, is of the mesh steel flag at the Harley Davidson Cafe in Las Vegas.

Friday, September 01, 2006


Is it all men who think women with a powerful car wants to drag race out of the gate after being stopped at a traffic light?

OK, I can understand two young punks in Corvettes neck to neck revving the engines and giving each other the eye before squealing the tires and laying a track as the light turns green. But not some woman in a Grand Prix next to a middle-age man in a classic Chevelle.

The guy in the Chevelle might want to race or believe the woman is in a hurry to beat him to the next light, but she's only thinking about what kind of fabric she wants to upholster her sofa with or how good she looks in a fast car.

She might take off like a bat out of hell because she's late, but I don't think it's likely that she wants to floor it to show the guy next to her a thing or two about muscle cars.

Then again, I could be wrong. I have noticed an awful lot of young girls lately chomping at the bit and then give this grandma the finger as they whiz by.