To borrow a catch phrase from George Takei: Oh My! What a field day for the snarksters! Could we possibly be living in a better time? Pre-election daily life has turned into a satire of pre-election daily life. Such a plethora of new material with each news cast, tweet, and so-called presidential debate, one hardly
At first, I wasn’t sure why my mind wandered to this particular topic. It might have been the sense of torture brought on by endless exposure to political gurus. Or perhaps it was the stomach ache which followed an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The latter occurred as I was perusing the latest issue of The
Are you, like I am, ready to throw in the towel? Cry uncle? Knuckle under? Abandon hope? Turn the TV screen to the wall? Make promises to God? Then you are, like I am, suffering from the malady known as Election Fatigue, or in drug company lingo, EF. And there are still fifty-four more days
I know I said you wouldn’t be hearing from me until mid-September, but I felt compelled to interrupt my hiatus to comment on the current political dialogue. You’re a liar. No, you are. No, you are. You’re lying right now. Liar, liar pants on fire.
When it comes to decluttering, the world seems to consist of two types of people: those who are able to divest themselves of inanimate objects once they’ve outlived their usefulness, and those who would sentimentally cling to an old rubber band. Darned if I know why letting go of things is so difficult for some people,
No doubt my priorities are all screwed up. There’s so much going on in the world that cries out for serious attention and consideration, and here I sit, obsessing about Viagra commercials. Gun violence, Brexit, terrorist explosions, to say nothing of the upcoming political conventions during which two flawed candidates will be nominated to run
So why do I feel like I’m doomed to spend the rest of my days imprisoned in an old Groucho Marx quiz show? Or, during my time off for good behavior, my confinement is relocated to a Monty Python movie? Not just any Monty Python movie, but specifically “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” My
On any given day, there are countless reminders that I am an old person. Not least of which is the pain in my lower back when I uncurl my body from the driver’s seat of my car. There is also the fact that I now prefer to sit when putting on my panties, for fear
Admittedly, I’m not a big fan of nostalgia. My capacity for fondly recounting the good old days is about half a cup. Sure, I have pleasant memories of growing up in the 40s and 50s, but I’m not about to initiate a petition for the return of Howdy Dowdy, or lobby the fashion industry to
Six days and counting, and I continue to eat my way out of Florida. More good-bye dinners with friends we will not see for six months. So what if my clothes have gotten tighter? I am more than compensated by the fact that the non-use of my stove and dishwasher is a great energy-saver. “Where
