Friday, September 25, 2015

Bad Luck? Blame It On Mercury

     If you've been having an unusually craptastic week, there's a pseudoscientific reason for your misfortune. Mercury is in retrograde from September 17 to October 9th, and this astrological phenomenon is the perfect scapegoat for everything that has gone awry in the past week.

     "Mercury Retrograde" occurs during three periods throughout the year, a time when the planet appears to stall and spin backward. Although this is an illusion caused by the rotation of the earth, many people believe that the retrograde phase is responsible for wreaking havoc during each of these three-and-a-half week periods. Mercury is the ruling planet of communication, so it stands to reason that while in retrograde, communication, travel and technology go haywire, causing a certain degree of pandemonium on earth. Computers crash for no reason, cell phones erase info, emails are lost and transportation is a nightmare.

     It doesn't stop there. Staunch believers of Mercury's trickery advise against signing important documents, traveling, starting a new job, moving, getting married, or launching a new business venture during retrograde.

     I've had my own share of misfortunes in the past week; my car died, my husband was in a car accident (not hurt, thankfully) and one of my sweet pets died in her sleep. I've also had a few heated debates with friends and even engaged in a ridiculous argument with my husband one night over the Miami Dolphins….and I don't even watch football.

     I'd love to blame Mercury for my bad luck, but rather than focus on my misfortune, I prefer to think of all the good things that the retrograde phase might do for me. If everything is spinning backward, that means I might have a second chance at enjoying some of the things I miss:

*My old metabolism. Maybe I can go back to eating chicken wings, donuts, and cheeseburgers without gaining a pound.

*High energy. I'd like to be as energetic as I was when I was a kid with the motivation to run around the playground, climb a jungle gym or sail down a hot metal slide without getting second degree burns on my chunky thighs.

*Good music. Pat Benetar, Journey, The Cars, Peter Gabriel, Toto, The Police…..the list goes on and on. I'd rather listen to them than some dude singing, "Now watch me whip, watch me nae nae…"

*Size eight clothing. It sure would be nice to fit into that size again, since right now the fabric from one of those tiny t-shirts would barely cover one arm.

*Required nap time. In kindergarten, we played all morning, ate lunch, then pulled out our mats and blankets to sleep for an hour. When we woke up, the nice teacher handed out graham crackers and milk. I want to go back to kindergarten….for adults. And the nice teacher hands out margaritas with chips and queso dip.

*My stamina. I could stay out all night and party like a rock star when I was in my twenties. Now I can't even make it to the dinner hour without three cups of coffee to prop me up.

*80's fashion. Shoulder pads, parachute pants and velour jumpsuits. Just kidding. Pajama jeans and yoga pants work fine.

Come to think of it, now that there's a Clinton and a Bush running for office again, who knows? Maybe there's something to the lore of Mercury in retrograde, after all.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Fly On The Wall In A Padded Cell

     Welcome to another edition of Fly on the Wall group posts, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today 16 brave bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. 

      At my house, whenever my whole family gets together, things get weird. Someone will bring out the accordion and attempt to play polka music. Worse, SOME people actually try to dance to the music. Soon after, a pudding fight ensues. 

     Yes, I live with lunatics, and they all belong in a padded cell….together.  

"You've infected me with your lunacy."

"Don't throw out those leftover pancakes! I might eat them later."
"Instead of 'Save the Whales' your new slogan should be "Save The Pancakes."

"Laughter is NOT the best medicine. Chocolate is."

"I like this bottle of Winking Owl wine, even though it's really cheap."
"It tastes like crap. They should have named it Winking Sphincter wine."

"With all the tossing and turning you do in bed at night, I think that qualifies as a day's worth of rigorous exercise."

"Did my granddaughter just say that having to carry all of her stuff up the stairs was 'ridiculous'?"
"No---she said it was 'DICKulous.' She hasn't mastered her R's yet."

"Dear triple shot of espresso, please lie to me about how much we're going to get done today."

"Stop licking my earlobe---I already know you're feeling amorous. Who needs Q-tips when I have your tongue?"
"Are you talking to me or the dog?"

"Why is your ring tone a loud siren? Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?"  

"Wow---that Water Pik works better than floss! After eating a steak, I just sprayed half a cow out of my molars." 

"I have so many tabs open on my laptop --- it sounds like a jet getting ready to take off."

"Note to self: never give your husband cabbage for dinner an hour before he has to drive clients around all night for Uber."

     Now you understand what I mean when I say I've been locked in a padded cell with these whack jobs. Can you hand me the keys to get out of here, please???

Check out all the bloggers participating in today's Fly On The Wall group posting! 

htttp://                          Baking In A Tornado                          Spatulas on Parade                          Follow me home                          Menopausal Mother                                   Never Ever Give Up Hope                                  Just A Little Nutty                                        The Momisodes                            Someone Else’s Genius                                      Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                     The Angrivated Mom                           Nichole Mom of 8                          Searching for Sanity                                    Cluttered Genius                 Eileen’s Perpetually Busy                          Southern Belle Charm                                        Go Mama O

Friday, September 11, 2015

The Seven Dwarfs Of Menopause

     I'm far from being Snow White when it comes to the "change of life", especially now that the seven dwarfs of menopause have moved in. More often than not, I resemble the wicked queen with my rapid mood swings. "Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the meanest of them all?" Even these dwarfs know better than to hang around when I'm having a lousy day. If I had a poison apple in my hand right now, I'd throw it at them.

     Who are the little buggers I'm talking about? These seven, miserable dwarfs:

GRUMPY:  Overnight I've been transformed into a grumpy old person, which makes me hard to please on any given day. The sun is too bright, the kids are too loud, and my fiber pills are not working. Unless you're going to surprise me with a juicy burger and a chocolate milkshake, then leave me alone.

SWEATY:  Ceiling fans on warp speed and an A/C unit set at 65 degrees is STILL not enough to stop the sweating. My pores have become a sprinkler system spewing sweat that runs down my face and pools at the base of my neck like the Great Lakes. My damp clothing is a second skin that I can't remove fast enough. Where the hell is the shut-off valve?

BLOATY: I have a stomach that feels like it has been inflated with helium. Put a string in my nose and watch me float across the sky like the Goodyear Blimp.

SLEEPY: I'm always sleepy because I can't sleep when I need to be sleeping. Insomnia has stolen the joy of hibernating under my blanket for hours and has turned me into a creature of the night. When I finally do fall asleep, I fall so deep that I can't wake up. My house could go up in flames and I wouldn't know it. If that ever happens, the firemen will just have to carry me out on my bed because I'm not leaving my Tempur-Pedic for anyone.

DRIED-UP: Sex is not always pleasant when there's tumble weeds rolling around in the desert of my lady bits. If I'm not careful, my poor husband will be searching my body for alternative orifices.

FORGETFUL: I forget the pasta water that's boiling over on the stove; I forget to pick up my granddaughter from pre-school, and I forget to walk the dogs until one of them leaves a smelly surprise on the couch. You know what would make a great Christmas gift this year, Santa?  A LoJack for my car keys and reading glasses.

PSYCHO: Think Jack Nicholson in The Shining, or Norman Bates from The Bates Hotel. It's all fun and games until the grocery store no longer stocks my favorite pinto grigio and flames begin shooting out of my nostrils. Mr. Grocery Store Manager, you have been warned.

     I can only hope that one day soon the prince of post-menopause will arrive on my doorstep. With a single kiss, all my symptoms will disappear….and only then will I live happily ever after.

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I'm featured for the very first time on Boomer Cafe, where I'm sharing the joy of being an almost empty nester! Can you can read it here:

Friday, September 4, 2015

Eight Types Of People Who Annoy Me

    The best thing about the human race is our individuality. The world would be a dull place indeed if we all dressed the same, talked the same, and shared identical opinions on everything from ice cream flavors to presidential candidates. Our uniqueness is what makes us interesting.

     While I respect individuality, there are also certain types of people who annoy the hell out of me. Their "uniqueness" doesn't jive with my own personality flaws (which include impatience, irritability, and a short attention span), and they bring out the worst in me. They make me feel stabby, which is never good for someone who is going through menopause.

     If you fit into one of these categories, stay far, far away from me. Or better yet, hide your forks.

THE MOTORMOUTH: This is the person who never knows when to stop talking. There's a tiny motor attached to their mouth and it's set on warp speed. Their incessant chatter triggers an instant headache while I'm trying to process the minute details of a story they're eager to share. I'm not interested in hearing "101 fun facts" about your new turbo vacuum. Nor do I need to know the name of every dairy cow that contributed to the chunks of imported cheese behind the deli counter.

INDECISIVE PEOPLE: I refer to these people as "wafflers." They can't make up their mind about ANYTHING. Ever go out to dinner with these people? If the restaurant has an extensive menu, you might as well bring a sleeping bag because you'll be camping under the table for days.

A waffler will agonize for hours over the abundance of food choices. Fried calamari or beef sliders?  It's impossible for these people to make it through a four-course meal because the restaurant's kitchen closes at midnight. For the love of all that is holy, pick the damn calamari and call it a night.

BRAGGARTS: Whenever you share a personal victory, these people like to pipe in about something BETTER that happened to them. They could care less about your trip to Wally World last summer because they were busy partying it up in Monaco. And even though you're proud of the 5K race you ran last weekend, the Braggart is quick to remind you that they ran a 10K race in 102 degrees… uphill. Both ways.

NEGATIVE PEOPLE: No matter how much positivity you try to send out into the universe, negative people will find something wrong with the very things that make you the happiest.

"I just got a promotion at work!"
"Say goodbye to your social life because you'll probably have to work nights and weekends from now on."

"I just bought a new car!"
"I heard there was a recall on that model."

Carry an umbrella when you're around these people, because they will always delight in raining on your parade.

THE CHRONIC COMPLAINER: This person is impossible to please. Nothing is good enough, and fault can be found in just about everything. Their boss is a jerk, their spouse is a slob, their kids are unappreciative, their rent is too high and they have mysterious illnesses that keep them from enjoying pretty much everything in life. Whatever you do, NEVER ask a chronic complainer how their day is going. An ear full of wax is preferable to an earful of misery, which is what these people will give you.

KNOW-IT-ALLS:  My biggest pet peeve is with people who think they know EVERYTHING. Heck, they don't even mind telling me how to run my life. If I ask for your advice, great. Give it to me, and chances are I might actually follow it. But when someone steps into my personal territory and tells me how to do something that I feel I have already accomplished on my own, the claws come out. Unless you've discovered a more efficient way to plunge a toilet without splash-back from a fecal bomb, then please keep your opinions to yourself until I ask for your advice.      

UNRELIABLE PEOPLE: Don't promise me that you're going to do something…..and then bail on me. Don't change plans at the last minute, either---this messes with my OCD. If we have plans to go to dinner at 6:30 and you don't show up until 7:15, I might have to start the party without you. Which means I might be a hot mess by the time you arrive.

OVER-THE-TOP INDEPENDENT SALES ENTHUSIASTS: I get that you have a job to do, but please stop pressuring me to buy your nail sticker designs, powdered shakes, knock-off designer bags, miracle skincare products, prepackaged diet food or emoticon-shaped jewelry. If I win the lottery and can afford all of these products, I'll let you know. Otherwise, back off…..unless you're selling baked goods. I'm always ready to shell out money for a good cupcake.

     What type of people annoy you? Oh wait, let me guess…..people who make lists of the people who annoy them the most.

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I'm featured n BLUNTmoms with my post, "8 People I Love To Hate At The Gym." You can read it here:

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Guest Post by Kimberly Dalferes: Magic Fishing Panties

     I'm so excited today to introduce you to my dear friend and fellow author Kim Dalferes, who has just released her NEWEST book, Magic Fishing Panties! I was lucky enough to get my hands on an ARC of the book, and let me tell you, I was laughing the entire time I was reading this marvelously funny
compilation of stories from her life. I always thought I got myself into some crazy situations, but Kim deserves an award for some of the things she has experienced! I asked her to share a synopsis and a little snippet from her book as a taste of her writing, because I know my readers will want to grab a copy of this hilarious collection for themselves.
     Please welcome Kim to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love. Don't forget to check out her links at the end of the post!

                                        "MAGIC FISHING PANTIES" SYNOPSIS:

Have you taken to blaming the little people for stealing all the things you can’t find, like the damn Chico’s gift card you are 100% sure you left on the dresser? When you take off your bra, is it as if an airbag has deployed? Have you more than once started a sentence with the phrase “Back when I was in school…”? If you answered yes to any of these questions, welcome to the middle-aged cheap seats.
Magic Fishing Panties is the follow-up to Dalferes’ debut book I Was in Love With a Short Man Once. This collection of humorous tales offers new perspective from the self-proclaimed crazy Southern Irish gal and recent inductee into “Club 50.” Rather than wallow in the self-pity often induced by sagging jaw lines, empty nests, and menopause, the author offers colorful depictions of life in the middle. You will find yourself contemplating:
            ·       How would you react to being in public during an earthquake? Oh, and you’re naked.
·       The wedding starts in five minutes and your best friend needs to pump her breast milk, but all the bathrooms are occupied. Where should she go to quickly resolve her situation?
·       You are depressed and alone on your 39th birthday. What do you do? Hint: tattoo anyone?
You’ll come to know Kimba as a true gal pal, someone who will gladly lend you her size 11 black boots, favorite red coat, and anything else you might need to rule the world – with the exception of her magic fishing panties. Because letting you borrow those would be a little weird, don’t ya think?

                                                   BOOK EXCERPT

We gals possess one distinctive disadvantage out on the fishing boats. It’s the “head.” For the guys, their need to relieve themselves is accomplished by a quick pit stop over the bow of the boat. For the gals, well, our equipment doesn’t work that way. A woman’s use of the bathroom on a fishing boat is a time-consuming process. I use the term “bathroom” here with a bit of poetic license. Often, the facilities are nothing more than a bucket. You can take as many countermeasures as possible: limit the coffee consumption and definitely go at the lodge before you get on the boat. But, eventually, you gotta go.

Step 1: The captain clears out the cabin for a little semblance of privacy.
Step 2: Layers of clothing (gloves, hat, scarf, rain slicker) are removed.
Step 3: The bibs must be unhooked, but—and this is important—you mustn’t remove them fully because this would entail also removing your boots.
Step 4: Shuffle over to the cubby area under the bow. You’re lucky if there is a cubby area.
Step 5: Back in, derriere first, drop the bib tops you’ve been holding up, unzip and drop your pants, followed by your underwear, and attempt to squat/land upon the toilet/bucket.
Step 6: Pull across the battered blue plastic sheet that is supposed to provide some modicum of cover.
Step 7: Pray the toilet paper is somewhere within reach.
Step 8: Anchor your hands and feet against the sides of the cubby to steady yourself as the boat sways and rocks.
Step 9: Proceed with, well, you know.
Step 10: Attempt to rise, remaining in a somewhat stooped position in order to avoid bumping your head. (I did not forget about the use of the toilet paper; I’m trying to keep this classy.)
Step 11: While remaining hunched over, attempt to pull up your underwear and your pants in the cubby. Damn near impossible.
Step 12: Pull back the blue plastic sheet and while once again attempting to hold up your pants and bibs, turnaround, bend over, and pull the lever which evacuates the contents of bowl.
Step 13: Turn back around, continue to hold up your bibs, and shuffle back out into the main cabin.
Step 14: Refasten your pants and your bibs, put back on all your clothing—rain gear, hat, gloves, and scarf—and head back out to fishing.
 What could possibly go wrong?


Kimberly “Kimba” Dalferes is a native Floridian, but currently pretends to be a Virginian. She is an accomplished king salmon slayer, estate sale junkie, and sometimes writes books. Her first book, I Was In Love With a Short Man Once, was published in 2011, with a 2nd edition released in 2015 by Booktrope Publishing. Her second book, Magic Fishing Panties, also with Booktrope Publishing, will be released August 2015. Her stories have been featured in diverse publications including Voices from Smith Mountain Lake (an anthology published by the Smith Mountain Arts Council), The Roanoke TimesHippocampus MagazineThe Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, Better After Fifty, Laugh Lines-Finding Your Funny, and Midlife Boulevard. She is also a columnist–her humor column Dock Tale Hour appears regularly in Laker Magazine (an affiliate of Times-World LLC). She recently had a limerick published by the Washington Post and she vehemently believes this is a legit publishing cred.         
The author happily serves on the Board of Governors for the Virginia Writers Club (VWC). She is a member of the Orangeberry Book Tours Hall of Fame (2012), is a featured writer inThe Authors Show, 50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading (2012)and won gold in the AuthorsDB 2013 Book Cover Contest. She has also been recognized for her nonfiction writing as the winner of the 2014 Golden Nib Award; VWC’s highest honor.
Dalferes divides her time between Fairfax and Smith Mountain Lake, Virginia with husband Greg, Bonz the cat, and occasionally her son Jimmy, when he is home from college. She is also often found hanging out in The Middle-Aged Cheap Seats–her blog. She continues to sing hopelessly off-key and waits patiently for that phone call from George Clooney. Find her at or at–where midlifers come to sit, laugh & "occasionally" drink tequila.

·       Facebook -
·       Twitter -
·       Website -
·       Blog – “The Middle-Aged Cheap Seats” -
·       Pinterest –

I Was In Love With a Short Man Once (2011, 2015)
Nekkid Came the Swimmer (contributing author, 2015)
Virginia Writers Club, Inc. Virtual Anthology (2015)
Virginia Writers Club, Inc. Virtual Anthology (2014)
Dock Tale Hour (humor column, Smith Mountain Laker Magazine, since 2014)
Voices from Smith Mountain Lake (Anthology, 2013)



Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...