Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Did You Steal My Spandex?

    Do you like to read humor? Do you need a little pick-me-up to get yourself out of the doldrums? They say laughter is the best medicine for what ails us, so why not escape the heat of the summer (and all the stress of politicians bashing one another in the news) with something that is guaranteed to put a smile on your face?

     I have the perfect remedy to restore your sense of humor. For a limited time, you can STEAL MY SPANDEX at the low price of just .99 cents for the ebook version, which is available on Amazon and on Barnes & Noble.

     If you buy my book, here's a little summary of what you can expect between the pages:

"Who Stole My Spandex? is a witty selection of stories from Doyle’s madcap world of menopausal pitfalls, wardrobe malfunctions, and a family full of pranksters. This clever compilation includes laugh-out-loud pieces like "Queen of Klutz,” "One Size Fits None," and "Hands off my Egg Roll!" From couples' colonoscopies to nightmare holidays to disappearing spandex, no topic—no matter how crazy or unimaginable—is too taboo. With a heavy dose of self-deprecating humor, and a dash of sentiment, this marvelous collection of anecdotes will resonate with anyone who’s ever felt the call of nature at exactly the wrong time. Welcome to the nuthouse that Marcia Kester Doyle calls home."

     Still need some convincing? Check out what these reviewers had to say about WHO STOLE MY SPANDEX? LIFE IN THE HOT FLASH LANE:

"I did not steal anyone's spandex (possible liar who should be frisked), but I AM speechless. Utterly speechless." ~~ Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess and Author of the bestselling book, Let's Pretend This Never Happened

"Finding humor in the mundane days of motherhood is no small feat, but Marcia Kester Doyle succeeds with flying colors. She's the BFF we all want to have, who's been there, done that, and isn't afraid to tell it like it is. Grab a glass of wine, hide out in the bathroom and get ready to laugh with Marcia. Sounds like a perfect night to me!" ~~ Jill Smokler, Author of Confessions of a Scary Mommy

"Marcia Kester Doyle has a terrific way of looking at the ordinary and finding humor. When she sharpens her wit, no family member is sacred and no reality TV show is safe. Through the laughter there are some tears, as Marcia gracefully pens about broken hearts, loss, and life struggles. If you need to laugh, cry, and think, all in one book, then Who Stole My Spandex? is a great choice for you." ~~ Jen Mann, author of the bestseller, People I Want to Punch in the Throat: Competitive Crafters, Drop Off Despots, and Other Suburban Scourges

"No matter what life has dished up for her, Marcia Kester Doyle has an uncanny gift for seeing and sharing the humor or beauty in every situation. I've been a fan of Marcia's writing for several years and I'm always amazed at her ability to make me belly-laugh at the most universal topics like shopping, aging, and marriage." ~~ Leslie Marinelli, CEO of In the Powder Room and Editor and Co-Author of the bestselling women's humor anthology, You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth

"Who Stole My Spandex? is required reading for anyone who enjoys laughter at any age! Marcia Kester Doyle has the ability to turn a seemingly everyday event, mishap, or unexpected "issue" into a cause for celebration and high amusement. She writes so honestly and entertainingly about her life and loves; channeling Erma with humor, verve, warmth, and hard-won wisdom!" ~~ Jenny Isenman, Humorist behind and Jenny From the Blog

Don't wait! Grab your copy now while the sale lasts!!

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? I have a brand new article featured on Your Tango this week. Check out the story of my crazy hair---- "I Changed My Mom-Hair And My Life Got Significantly Better." You can read it here: 

Friday, July 22, 2016

Fly On The Wall In An Orb Weaver's Home

    Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Karen of  Baking In A Tornado. Today 10 bloggers are inviting you into their homes to give you a glimpse of what you'd see if you were a fly on the wall in their house.

     Normally when I write these posts, I never identify the people behind the conversational tidbits that I share. But this time I have to give credit where credit is due. My husband has been on point lately with his creative comebacks, but I did my best to get a few jabs in there myself. I'm sure that nosy fly on our wall was throughly entertained by some of these conversations:

INSURANCE SALES REP: (on the phone with my husband): "Mr. Doyle, I'll need you to sign the insurance documents we sent to you, then scan and email them back to me. You do know how to do this, right?"
HUBS: "Are you kidding me? My wife and I are so old, we still use Wells Fargo to deliver everything by horse."

HUBS: "I feel like crap today and it's all your fault."
ME: "How is it my fault?"
HUBS: "You made me drink too many of those strong concoctions you prepared last night."
ME: "I thought you loved my Moscow Mule cocktails."
HUBS:" I did, until I woke up this morning feeling like the mule kicked me in the head."

SON: "Mom, how old is that box of cereal in the pantry?"
ME: "Which one?"
SON: "The one on the floor behind the cookbooks."
ME: "That's really old----don't eat it. Throw it out."
SON: " I thought this was Raisin Bran cereal and I already ate half a bowl. But now I can see these aren't raisins."
ME: "What do you mean?"
SON: "These are weevils.....and they're swimming in my milk."
ME: (trying not to throw up in my mouth) "Look on the bright side---you just got your allotment of protein for the day."

     Last weekend, Hubs and I went with the family to a Brazilian steak house that has an all-you-can eat buffet and waiters who approach each table with skewers of sizzling meats to choose from. The quantity of meat is unlimited, which means it's a carnivore's dream. Hubs took full advantage of the restaurant's generosity, sampling pretty much every type of meat that was offered. Two hours into it, he was groaning and rubbing his belly. When I asked him what was wrong, he grimaced and said, "I just ate every animal on Noah's Ark."

SON: (attempting to iron his shirt) "Who the heck put the iron setting on wool, for godsake?"
HUBS: "I did. I ironed sheep yesterday."

     One of our pugs sleeps at the foot of our bed every night. She really is a sweet dog, but if you try to push her aside or pick her up while she's in a deep sleep, she growls and sometimes snaps. Hubs is terrified of waking her, and when she sleeps between his feet, he's too afraid to move. The other night, he needed to pee really bad, and inadvertently woke the dog when he moved the blankets. She sat up and glared at him from the foot of the bed. I grinned and said, "Good luck getting to the bathroom. You just woke the Kraken."

SON: "I have to do my brain training exercises today."
HUBS: "Well, that shouldn't take long."

     Late one night several weeks go, my son had a run-in with a nasty looking spider. This was no ordinary house spider; it was large with claw-like front legs and a hump on its back. The spider dropped from a tree near our driveway and onto my son's neck before scurrying back up to its web. My son let out a howl and woke Hubs to come outside and kill it with a broom. Once things settled down, my son researched the spider online and learned that it was a Cat-faced Orb Weaver. For days, Hubs couldn't resist singing a certain song every time our son entered the room. He sang a different version of the old Gary Wright song, "Dream Weaver" by changing the lyrics to "Cat-faced Orb Weaver" (my son was not amused). Not to be outdone, I made a special poster and hung it on my son's bathroom mirror:

     Ironically, my daughter also had a spider issue of her own recently. A friend spotted a small spider in her apartment but didn't bother to kill it. A few days later, another larger spider appeared on my daughter's drapes, and she called me in a panic....
DAUGHTER: "Mom, my worst nightmare just came true! That little spider that my friend saw earlier was just in my bedroom. Do those things grow overnight, because this thing was HUGE. What if it was sitting in the corner of my bedroom all night, just watching me and waiting until I fell asleep so it could lay eggs in my ears??
 MOM: "You need to Google it and find out what type of spider it is."

     Yep, you guessed it. Cat-faced Orb Weaver. If you're not prone to nightmares, go ahead and Google it. I dare you.

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I had my first article featured on Grown & Flown: " 8 Things That Surprised Me The Most About Having Grown Children." You can read it HERE

Buzz around, see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:
Baking In A Tornado         
Juicebox Confession                                     
Menopausal Mother                                   
Spatulas on Parade                                 
Searching for Sanity                                 
Never Ever Give Up Hope                           
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                     
Southern Belle Charm                                 
Go Mama O                        
Molly Ritterbeck                                                                                                       

Friday, July 15, 2016

Same-Page Marriage Woes

     Anyone who has been married for any length of time has had their share of disagreements. I've been married for thirty years, which qualifies me as a professional "argument" arbitrator. Some of the feuds I've had with my husband have been more serious than others, but you have to know when to  pick your battles to get on equal footing.

     The two of us come from very different backgrounds, each with our own set of emotional baggage. For the most part, we're on the same page, especially when it comes to parenting. But there are other issues in our marriage that have reduced us to foot-stomping, sulking toddlers when neither one of us is willing to give in. The issues we are argue over most include:

Children: We want the best for offspring, but sometimes we disagree about their choices. I have no problem with my children dating at the age of sixteen, but my husband would rather they wear a chastity belt until they're thirty-five.

Money: This is the one subject that consistently pops up in our disagreements, because there is never enough of it to cover our expenses. My husband would love to drop some bills on a new bicycle, while I'm out scouting deluxe critter condos for my five chinchillas. And neither one of us wants to fork over five-hundred dollars for a new water heater. Sudsing up in the oscillating lawn sprinkler just might be worth saving a few bucks. 

Sex: My spouse is a morning person, and I'm a night owl. I preferred to hide my imperfections by candle light. He, on the other hand, rises with the sun and is as chipper as a toddler cracked out on Coco Puffs cereal.

Friends: Everyone has a friend that their spouse doesn't like. My husband has belligerent buddies who get drunk during sporting events and embarrass me with their rude comments. I have gal pals who love to chat it up all night over a bottle (or three) of wine. My husband refers to them as "yappers" who need to be muzzled after midnight.

Pets: My spouse would be happy if there were no pets in our house. The little accidents on the carpet and hairballs rolling around on the floor like tumbleweeds drive him to distraction. He feels that raising children is enough of a responsibility without adding critters to the mix. The night I brought home a stray bunny to add to our growing zoo population, my husband threatened to make rabbit stew. We argued for days, but he finally relented because the nibbling critter keeps his mustache hairs neatly trimmed.

Time Management: After financial issues, this is the second biggest issue on which we don't see eye to eye. When the kids were toddlers, we argued over whose turn it was to stay home and change diapers while the other person had free time with their friends. Now that we are older, free time is not an issue, since the adult kids have left the nest (and thankfully no one is still in diapers). The problem we face is trying to coordinate our schedules for family gatherings. Between strip bingo and pancake breakfasts at the Elk's Lodge, we rarely have time to schedule our colonoscopies together.

Technology: I was like a bear coming out of hibernation when it came to technology. I was the last one to own a cell phone, Kindle, or laptop. My husband brought me into the twenty-first century with my first iPod, which I had no clue how to use. When he tried to teach me the basic steps, I became frustrated and impatient. I couldn't grasp how something so small could be so complicated. The Hubs made the mistake of asking if I was born during the Jurassic period when I couldn't figure out how to use this wondrous gadget. The conversation ended when I chucked it at his beer belly.

Chores: The biggest question of the week at our house is: Who's turn is it to clean the bathroom? No one wants to scrub that toxic dump without a pressure cleaner and heavy-duty gloves. The kitchen isn't much better, since it looks like a bacon grease bomb has been detonated. We usually flip a coin to settle the argument. The Hubs still hasn't figured out why I always call "heads." (It's a two headed coin.)

In-Laws: When you exchange wedding vows, you inherit more than a spouse. You inherit their crazy-ass relatives as well. It's like Forrest Gump's analogy of a box of chocolates: some might be nutty, and some might be rotten. And some might be deceptively hollow inside. The best compromise is to move a continent away from anyone else who shares your DNA.

Jealousy: When we're at parties and I see my husband flirting with a bleached blonde or a buxom brunette, my temper rises. I become like Medusa, my eyes zeroing in on him, willing him to turn to stone. If necessary I bring out the big guns and publicly share that little tidbit about his painful hemorrhoids.

     Marriage is never easy; it's a give-and-take relationship that needs to be nurtured in order to bloom. Trust, communication, and respect are the keys to a healthy marriage. After being together for thirty years, my husband and I have to learn not to sweat the small stuff. In other words, there's no point in arguing over whose turn it is to change the grandchild's blow-out diaper. Pretty soon, we'll be changing each other's adult-size ones.

***This story originally appeared in "Clash Of The Couples" (November 2014), published by Blue Lobster Book Co. I'm honored to be a part of this anthology with so many talented writers. If you would like to read more humorous stories about lover's quarrels, feel free to order the book from Amazon HERE.

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I had articles featured on MOGUL--- "The Seven Dwarfs Of Menopause"  and on THE FIFTY PLUS LIFE----"From Empty Nest To Full House."


Friday, July 8, 2016

Sizzling Summer Writers Series: Guest Post By Alyson Herzig

     I featured today's guest blogger awhile ago on my site and she has never failed to make me smile over the shenanigans that occur on her blog. I've been reading the hilarious posts written by Alyson Herzig's of The Shitastrophy for several years now, and I highly recommend her brand of humor to anyone looking for a good belly laugh. Her Facebook fan page is a riot, too---she posts some of the best memes I've ever seen on social media. 

     Please welcome Alyson to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love. I think her guest post will resonate with many of us who struggle with dieting (and often fail) but still maintain a sense of humor through it all.   

The Slippery Slope of Dieting

I started dieting about 6 weeks ago, living on asparagus and salad with a side of chicken, hold the cheese, butter, sauce, and flavor for the rest of my life. I was doing quite well, then shit hit the fan, a family emergency requiring extensive travel. There were copious amounts of pasta and beer ingested, with a daily dose of donuts. I was on survival mode.

But now I’m home and I seem to have continued my off track living – I’m teetering on the edge. Craft beer is again on the menu and I've answered the Girl Scout Cookies beckoning me (Hi! Carmel Delights, I've missed you). And though I have steered clear of the Doritos, I have enjoyed large quantities of goodies that come in sealed bags. It just happened. I swear.

I never set out with the intention of eating an entire bag of chips. It was only gonna be a few. Just a couple. A nibble if you will. But then something happened and I became chip obsessed. I could think of nothing but the crunchy yumminess of the chip. It wasn't intentional the whole bag disappeared, poof the bag was gone like a fart that just slipped out.

It's a gradual process to my chip eating debacle, you can relate…right?
  1. Remember there is a 'healthy' bag of chips in the pantry. Curse whoever beat you to the bag of Apple Chips and ate it without leaving a single trace. I got my eyes on the 10 year old.
  2. Find a bag of semi-healthy chips, revel in the happiness it hasn’t been eaten.
  3. Get small bowl out and transfer a respectable handful of chips into the bowl.
  4. Realize you will not want to get out of your chair to refill the bowl, upgrade to the next size bowl. It’s all about control. I will only eat what is in THIS bowl. I swear.
  5. Sit down, eat entire bowl in less than five minutes.
  6. Get up, after denying you want any more for three excruciating minutes, and refill the bowl.
  • Spend half a second considering downgrading to smaller bowl, laugh at the possibility.
  1. Sit with beer and try to ‘pace’ my chip eating. Sip of beer, couple of chips.
  2. Move chips from table to arm of chair, the closer the better for non-stop chip ingestion.
  3. Realize you’re shoveling Sea Salt Pita Chips at a gold medal clip.
    • Move chips back to table, institute Pintrest distraction technique.
    • Ogle decorations for small front porches. Wonder who these ladies are that can turn that into THAT and why am I not friends with someone who can do THAT for me?
  4. Take sip of beer.
  5. Realize my chips are sitting just next to my beer.
  6. Eat chips, move chips back to armrest, drink beer.
  7. Repeat until bowl and beer are empty.
  8. Get up for refills, grab bag of chips consider pouring some into bowl but accept that you're going to eat the whole bag of crunchy awesomeness.
  9. Grab beer, head back to recliner, sit back with my two vices and think, "tomorrow's another day."

So that’s how I’m doing on the diet, you can relate...right?


Originally from NJ, Alyson lives in the Midwest but has kept her sarcastic cynical Jersey attitude. She has been described as the Andy Rooney of Stay-at-Home Moms. You can find her writing about the perpetual shit storm of her life and various ridiculous observations at or on her popular Facebook page The Shitastrophy. Alyson has had works featured online at various venues including but not limited to Scary Mommy, The Mighty, Good Housekeeping, Huffington Post, Momtastic, and What The Flicka. She has also been published in numerous anthologies, including two of the New York Times Bestseller installments of the ‘Pee Alone’ series I Still Just Want to Pee Alone and I Just Want to Be Perfect.

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Friday, July 1, 2016

How To Pass Time While Living With Writer's Block (My Life As A Sloth)

    There's nothing worse than a writer with a blank brain, or a blank computer screen, for that matter. Right now, I'm suffering from both. Short of caving in to the advertisements for online courses that promise to restore my forgotten muse (or spending $100 an hour with Cleo the psychic to find out what evil spirit has inhabited my laptop and stolen my creativity), I've been living a double life as a sloth. Yes, that's right. I'm slothing all over the place---on the couch, in my car, on the living room floor.....wherever I can park my butt and do absolutely nothing. I know I need to snap out of this funk, but my inner kindergartner is screaming for a nap and a bag of Oreos.

     I want to get back into the writing game--I really do--but words fail me as I sit here, fingers poised over the keyboard. The good news is that I'm learning to adjust to the sloth life. My computer screen may be blank, but I've found creative ways to stay busy (and still remain sloth-like) while waiting for inspiration to strike. And my day usually starts like this:

*Drink a cup of coffee.

*Drink another cup of coffee.

*Organize papers on desk and make a to-do list that will most likely not get done.

*Join Farmville and learn how to manage imaginary livestock.

*Pluck stray nose hairs.

*Check refrigerator for snack even though there's only healthy crap in there (rubbery carrot sticks and bruised apples are NOT food for the muse).

*Experiment with different ring tones on my cell.

*Search desk drawer for hidden Easter candy that may or may not have been eaten five months ago.

*Trim toenails and make smiley faces out of the clippings.

*Check refrigerator again in the hopes that fresh pastries from the bakery have magically appeared.

*Frown at bag of rubbery carrots. Feed a few to the dog.

*Play tug of war with the dog.

*Check online farm to cultivate imaginary corn crops.

*Pick lint out of belly button. Contemplate knitting it into sweater for pet hamster.

*Scroll through old photos on cell phone and think about the good ol' days when there was plenty of inspiration for writing.

*Eat remaining rubbery carrots.

*Attempt a two-minute plank on living room carpet. Wake up one hour later.

*Take selfie next to blank computer screen.

*Pick two-week-old blue polish off fingernails.

* Investigate strange sounds in the kitchen. Clean up dog's carrot barf.

*Make three-story house and detached garage out of Post-it Notes.

*Close laptop for the day and dig through pantry for something to eat other than a potato and a can of tuna.

*Yell at television when Game Of Thrones ends.

*Set alarm and pull bed covers up over head.

*Tell self not to give up on writing career. Remember that tomorrow is new day for a fresh start.

     And for fresh pastries in the fridge.




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