Menopausal Mother

Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group blog postings hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today there are four of us inviting you into our homes to see what a nosy fly might see if he was buzzing around. 

The flies in Florida were frantic last week when we were hit with a deluge of rain---a monsoon that I was certain would make our entire state break free from the U.S. and sink into the ocean. In fact, there was so much rain that we had to reschedule one of our camping trips when the RV park turned into a mud pit. I'm actually camping right now (storms are finally gone) at the beautiful Fisheating Creek Outpost and life is good (especially since I can still get internet out in the boonies!). We're getting the hang of this whole RV thing, starting with our first adventure with Lucy last month (and the lions!)---which I wrote about in May's Fly On The Wall post. We also went to Blue Spring State Park a few weeks ago and have more RV trips lined up throughout the rest of the year (cheers to senior discounts and cheap vacations!!). And YES, we are still carrying on the funny mumu tradition that started on that first trip. 

It has been a busy month with family and friends, and the fly has seen it all---preschool graduations, birthday celebrations, our local "Downtown Untapped" festivities (always cool to see neighbors, relatives, and FB friends come out to the monthly event), and a great, heart-warming Father's Day that I think made the big guy feel special. **In honor of Father's Day, I'm sharing lots of photos of my better half  (and the funny inspiration behind most of my FOW blog posts)!
 

The nosy fly has also been privy to some weird conversations during our camping trips, and as always, our discussions center on food and being overweight. Yeah, I'm seeing a connection there.....

Hubs does drive me crazy, but he's my ride-or-die on our camping adventures, so I think I'll keep him around for a while.... and also because he's the one carrying the bear spray.... 

*****WANT MORE MENO MAMA? Catch my latest for AARP/The Ethel on delicious foods to pack in your summer picnic basket HERE . For this month's column for Yahoo Life I wrote about late-in-life marriages. If you watched "The Golden Bachelor," you'll get a kick out of my latest article . Lastly, for AARP/The Girlfriend, I wrote about the top state parks to visit this summer with family, and you can read it HERE  .

Now buzz around these other homes and see what the fly discovered this month!

 Baking In A Tornado                                https://www.BakingInATornado.com

On the Border                                         https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/

 

What TF Sarah                                      https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com  

     I love sleep, but it does not love me. I either sleep like the dead or I'm wide awake all night. There is no in-between for me. The nights I sleep deep, a tornado could lift my house from its foundation and drop it into a cornfield in Kansas and I STILL wouldn't wake up. For this reason, naps also make me nervous. I never know if I'll fall asleep for twenty minutes, two hours, or two years. Naps are risky at best, and my poor husband has no idea who he will be dealing with when he interrupts my sleep----the Kraken or a disoriented Rip Van Winkle.

     The nights insomnia shares the mattress with me are the worst. I don't count sheep to fall asleep. I count calories. And sadly, that's enough to keep me awake all night. My mind flips through a gazillion thoughts in record time, like cards being shuffled during a poker match. I can't shut my thoughts off, much less dim the commanding voice of insomnia that nags my subconscious.

     On a typical sleepless night, these are some of the strange thoughts that keep me tossing and turning while the bedside clock ticks away the minutes:



That recipe for chicken chow mein turned out really good tonight. I'm craving it again. Right now. I wonder how it will taste cold, straight out of the fridge....

So, if I add Hub's paycheck to the balance in the checkbook, then subtract what I owe on the mortgage this month, plus figure in the $200 I owe for the water bill and another $300 for the electric, that means......beans and rice. I eat bean and rice every day for a month.

My underwear is too tight. I need new underwear. This pair has holes. Geez, what if I got in an accident today and the EMTs saw them?

It's hot in here. The sheets are sticking to me. The thermostat must be set on a temperature compatible to Mercury.

How do penguins mate?

Wait----what are those suspicious noises coming from the garbage cans outside? Possum? Raccoon? Hungry neighbor?

Let's sing a song: "Rainy days and Mondays always get me down...." Karen Carpenter.....what year was that?

Did I turn off the oven?

Is that a lump under my armpit? It IS a lump. What if I have cancer? Aunt Sally had it, and look what happened to her! I have all the symptoms---I'm constantly tired and achy, and my weight has been fluctuating....OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE. Wait.....no....it's not a lump. It's a mosquito bite.

Why didn't the dog poop tonight? Maybe someone gave her too much cheese. I like cheese. I really like cheese on chicken parmesan. Maybe I can order some for lunch tomorrow. Maybe I can order some now.

Don't leave a leg sticking outside of the covers.....something or someone might grab it. Ghosts. Creepy clowns. Deranged serial killers. I need to stop watching American Horror Story.

Is that the toilet water running again? I need to get a plumber out here. Life would be so much easier if someone invented disposable, biodegradable toilet plungers.

Hubs needs to mow the grass tomorrow. I'll wake him and tell him. It's 2:00 a.m. but he won't mind.

If I could redesign this house, I would add an extra sink in the master bathroom, knock out the wall that divides the kitchen from the living room, add another bathroom to the east side of the house, because we can never have too many bathrooms.....wait, do I need to pee? Welcome to "Bladder Roulette." Spin the wheel and it lands on..... "You gotta pee. RIGHT NOW!"..... dammit.

Was my closet door cracked open all this time?

Let's sing again: "Cats in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon..."

Stop. Practice fake sleep. Close your eyes, breathe deep. Relax. Just go to sleep....hey, what was that kid's name in Mrs. Johnson's third grade class who puked whole blueberries by the classroom door?

I wonder who the first person was to eat an artichoke?

I need to find out what that weird sound was coming from my car today. What if it was my transmission? What if it blows up tomorrow while I'm driving down the highway? I'd better wear new underwear just in case the EMTs show up.


   
     Hopefully tonight will be better. I really need to get more sleep. I'll get the toilet fixed and make sure the thermostat is set low enough for icicles to form on the ceiling. And it wouldn't hurt to order a plate of chicken parmesan for dinner while I'm at it.....

     Welcome to a new edition of Fly On The Wall group blog postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today, seven bloggers are opening the doors to their homes so that you can get a glimpse of their private lives as if you were a fly on their wall.

     This month has been all about spending time with loved ones as our backyard is being transformed into a magical place for family and friends (pictures soon to follow). Listening in on the conversations around me is always a good way to gather fodder for these FOTW posts, but my family knows what I'm up to when they see me scribbling notes during dinner. Here are a few bits and pieces of conversation that I snagged from these gatherings:



"I'm not upset or too anxious-----I'm taking prescription medication to help me relax."
"Too bad it's not working."

"There's some leftover steak in the fridge if you're hungry."
"No thanks. I still have a couple of hooves in me from last night's dinner."

"I need to change the channel to something less scary than this presidential debate. I'm switching over to watch American Horror Story. Definitely less frightening."

"We're in a restaurant for God's sake, please stop farting!"
"I can't help it if the owner called me in to defog the place. My gas is lethal enough to kill the cockroaches."

"Having Carpal Tunnel in both wrists really sucks. I have to wear a brace on each one. My arms look the robot's arms on Lost In Space. 'Warning, warning, Will Robinson---Carpal Tunnel ahead. Danger, danger!'"

ME: "Look at that giant harvest moon!"
SON: "What is it harvesting?"
ME: "Your brain cells."
HUBS: "That will be a small harvest...."

"What on earth was that horrible screaming I heard outside?"
"I don't know but it sounded like someone stepped on a cat."

"I ate so much food at dinner that my belly button is now an outie."

"Our granddaughter is afraid to use the bathroom at night because she said she's scared she'll see a 'conch' roach."
"Tell her that 'conch' roaches only exist in Key West."

"They're selling Smart Water here. How much should I buy?"
"A case, because you're gonna need to swim in that stuff in order for it to work...."


     It's all fun and games at the Doyle house until someone has to deal with gastrointestinal issues. But at least it keeps the cockroaches away.....

     Normally I love the holiday season, but the older I get, the more difficult the preparation becomes. I don't have the patience it takes to endure the crowds, the parties, the hours decorating, cooking and standing in long lines at the mall. If elves existed, I'd hire them in a nanosecond to take care of everything so that all I had to do was wake up on Christmas morning and enjoy my day. Oh wait---that already happened when I was young. The elves were my parents. And now it's my turn to play elf.

     I'll admit that menopause has made me more irritable than usual, but there are certain things about this time of year that really bring out my grinchy side:

   

   The Weather 
   
     I feel for my northern friends during the winter months. I have no clue what it's like to shovel my way out of the house each morning just to go to the Starbucks, or to search for a car buried under pounds of the white stuff.
 

    We have a different problem here in south Florida. Our winter lasts five days if we're lucky, and the only changing of the leaves occurs when the occasional palm frond turns brown and drops to the ground. I'd like a little bit of a change in the weather during the holiday season----temperatures in the sixties for a few months would be nice. It's hard to feel Christmasy when it's 80 degrees and I'm sweating through my tank top.

     I also envy the people up north who can make snow angels on their front lawns. The closet thing I have to that is thrashing around on the beach to make a sand angel. Even worse----while my northern friends are coating their pale skin with spray-on tans, I'll be coating my ridiculously green Christmas tree with spray-on snow.

I Get Fat

   The 12 days of Christmas should be called the 12 days of gorging. Why? Because the eating begins on Thanksgiving and doesn't stop until January 2nd. It's five weeks of no holds barred binging, and everything I eat contains butter. Before the Thanksgiving turkey gets cold, I have to move all my outfits that have zippers or buttons and replace them with clothing made of stretchy fabric or elastic. Whoever said the Pajama Jeans can't be worn to dinner at a nice restaurant was wrong.

Shopping

     First off, let me just say that you will NEVER catch me shopping on Black Friday. I don't want to end up in an internet video with all the other crazies elbowing their way through the electronics department. Long lines, greedy customers and rude sales people have nothing to do with the spirit of Christmas.

     I usually wait a week or two until the frenzy dies down before I hit the local mall. But it never fails that the day I decide to shop, I run into everyone from my high school graduation class. And of course this only occurs when I've left the house without a stitch of makeup on and hair that looks like a hiding place for a family of stowaway mice.

     The other thing that makes me stabby is the supposed "sale" prices that stores offer. Give me a break, Mrs. Department Store Manager---that memory foam pillow was always $50. You just wrote $100 on the tag, then slashed through it with a marker and called it a bargain at 50% off. No thanks. I'll just grab this $5 canister of tri-colored popcorn from aisle six and call my shopping day a success.

Secret Santa 

     Who the hell came up with the dumb idea of drawing names from a hat to buy cheap gifts for complete strangers at work? Nothing says "I-don't-know-you-and-I-don't-care" more than a plunger made in China from the dollar store. And what happens if you're paired up with the one co-worker you really do despise? Do you give them an enema kit?

     When in doubt about what to buy for a total stranger, grab a bar of chocolate, even if it's an off-brand and a bit stale. That's gotta be better than receiving a can of Silly String or a gift certificate to the adult video warehouse from Gerald in Accounting.

Decorations


     I don't mind decorating for Christmas, but my husband hates it. Every December this causes more strain on our marriage than our finances, our children, or the in-laws. It doesn't help that I'm a holiday hoarder, and my husband is easily overwhelmed when he sees twenty-three boxes of decorations that need to be opened. While I do all the indoor decorating, my guy is in charge of the outdoor part. The swearing begins the minute he opens the first box and sees the snarled mess of lights inside that will take at least an hour to de-tangle. This is followed by more boxes of legless deer, flattened sleighs, and a wobbly Santa that looks like he's been nipping at spiked eggnog. Putting together these holiday figurines for our front yard display is worse than trying to piece together furniture from Ikea.

     Every year my husband swears that this is the time he's putting up our holiday display and threatens to donate all twenty-three boxes of decorations to the Salvation Army. Little does he know that I plan to hit the after-Christmas sales at the store. I hear they'll be selling their Santa stock for 50% off.  

Wrapping The Gifts 

     I advise people to tackle this holiday nightmare by wrapping just a few packages at a time. Otherwise, you'll be overwhelmed after the first hour and your thumbs will be stuck together from pulling out yards of tape from the dispenser. Believe me, I've done Christmas Eve wrapping marathons before, and by 3:00 a.m., my packages looked like they'd been wrapped by rabid squirrels.

Holiday Parties   

     Every year I get invited to an "ugly sweater" party. This would be fine if it was 40 degrees outside instead of the usual 80 degrees here in December. There's nothing fun about sitting around in a hot,  hideous sweater that causes perspiration to pool under the breasts. South Floridians need to switch up this event by hosting an ugly thong party instead.

     Another thing that sucks about holiday gatherings are pot luck parties. It never fails that the one  neighbor down the street who's proud of being crafty with her budget shows up with an odd concoction made from leftover turkey gizzards, green beans and mayonnaise. Hey neighbor, if your dog won't eat it, what makes you think I will? And don't even get me started on fruit cakes. I'm convinced that there's only a handful of these nasty things in existence, and it's the same ones that just keep circling the globe, year after year. I'm pretty sure there are enough preservatives in these cakes to last a millennium.

     The other type of party that's known to scar people for life is the annual office holiday party, especially if alcohol is involved. All it takes is for some fool to sneak a little Fireball Whiskey into the punch bowl and pretty soon shit gets real. Sure enough, two hours into this fiasco, the young intern from cubicle B is yaking up cocktail wieners at her desk while the nerdy guy from the fourth floor tries to impress his female co-workers by doing The Worm. Even more nauseating is the company boss disguised as Santa, trying to coax employees to sit on his lap and whisper what they want for Christmas. You know what I want for Christmas, Santa? A fat raise and a Netflix marathon followed by eight uninterrupted hours of sleep.

Out Of Town Guests  


     I understand the concept of gathering the family together during Christmas to create the perfect Norman Rockwell moment, but if you're the person who has surrendered your home to relatives you haven't seen since you were in diapers, you're just asking for trouble. Within days you'll know every intimate detail about their bathroom habits and just how far they'll go to avoid washing the dishes after dinner. It doesn't matter if you give them a dilapidated sofa bed to sleep on or just a leaky air mattress---once they've settled in your home, they'll be harder to get rid of than a swarm of termites.

 Hip Christmas Carols  

     Call me old fashioned but I love the classics. Give me music from Handel's Messiah sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir or even a little Bing Crosby, and I'm happy. But once I hear "Silent Night" transformed into a rap song, I'm ready to stick a fork in my eye. The same goes for department store muzak. How can I pick out the right size jingle bell jock strap for my husband if all I can hear blaring from the sound system is Christmas music sung by the Kardashians?

Travel

     I feel awful for the poor souls snowed in at airports during the holidays. I can't imagine what that must be like. I don't fly anymore, but I remember the frenzy of racing through the terminals after a delayed flight to make the next connection, losing my luggage, and being sandwiched in-between two men the size of sumo wrestlers on the plane. There is nothing worse than crawling over a complete stranger's lap to get to the bathroom before your bowels burst.

     Long road trips aren't much better. Icy roads, traffic jams, impatient drivers and five hour trips that turn into twenty-four hour trips....this is the reason antianxiety pills were invented.


     Hopefully my grinchy little heart will grow three sizes larger before Christmas and I'll be humming to the rap version of Silent Night while shopping for gifts. But if someone sends me a fruit cake, all bets are off.



***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? Last week I was featured on Purple Clover with a new version of my couples' colonoscopy story. Check out my story, "Two Royal Pains In The Ass" here: http://www.purpleclover.com/health/5622-two-royal-pains-ass/





 

 
    I've been through the toddler trenches---four times, to be exact, and I'm happy to say that I survived unscathed. Okay, that may not be entirely true. My memories are blurred. Maybe I'm just suffering from PTSD (Post Toddler Stress Disorder), which explains why I don't remember much from those mind-numbing years of motherhood. But now that I have a young grandchild, it's all coming back in waves. I'm remembering what I didn't like about those years, but I'm also feeling immense pride in my daughter for being such a patient mother amidst the toddler turbulence she's currently experiencing. I'm happy that I don't have to deal with that kind of stress anymore on a daily basis (just on the weekends when I'm on babysitting duty, thank you very much).  

     If you have older children, you can finally relax and celebrate all of these reasons why it's great to no longer be raising a toddler:


1. BEDTIME: You get to skip the nightly ritual of putting a cranky, overly-tired toddler into pajamas while she's flailing around on the floor----which is about as much fun as trying to put long johns on a slippery octopus.

2. FOOD WARS: You won't have to smother every vegetable you serve with ketchup or cheese sauce and then lie to your child by telling them it tastes like chicken nuggets.

3. POOP: No more running to the bathroom at breakneck speeds when you hear an excited voice shout, "MOMMY, I DID A BIG POOPIE!" If you don't get there early enough to help them wipe, you'll be smelling butt vapors the rest of the day.

4. PROPERTY DAMAGE: You won't have to live in fear that your precious little angel will scribble all over your expensive baseball card collection with a waterproof marker.  

5. TANTRUMS: No more dealing with meltdowns over a sandwich that has not been cut into the shape of Simba's head, or the entire Lion King pride, for that matter.

6. LACK OF SLEEP: You'll no longer be prodded awake at 5:00 a.m. by a toddler who needs to pee, then claims to be thirsty and hungry. They rarely go back to sleep after they've made the long trek to the toilet and back. Whenever this happens, it's like having a little person running around all morning cracked out on Kool-Aid and lollipops. Be thankful that the only thing waking you up now is an alarm clock.

7.  ANNOYING KID SHOWS: No more whiney Caillou, Yo Gabba Gabba, Dora The Explorer or Bubble Guppies invading your living room each morning (which is far worse on your mental state if the coffee hasn't kicked in yet).

8. NOISE CONTROL: You can ditch the kazoos, electronic alphabet games, talking storybooks and mini drum sets. You might even be able to ditch the ear plugs too, unless your have a teen at home who loves to blast dubstep in decibels loud enough to make your ears bleed.

9. MESSES: The word "toddler" should be synonymous with"twister", because once these little human beings have been awake for a more than thirty minutes, your house looks like its been picked up by a tornado and tossed upside down. Now that your kids are older, you don't have to worry about developing curvature of the spine from bending down all day to pick up their toys.

10. OUTDOOR "FUN": Your thighs will no longer be chafed from the slide at the park, nor will you be forced to squeeze your butt into a swing the size of tight sling shot that's ready to launch you into outer space.

     Despite all of these things, if I didn't have my sweet grandchild to cuddle and love, I'd be missing out on all the good things that come with raising a toddler. They love unconditionally, expressing unbridled affection for family and friends alike. They're quick to forgive, trust easily, and are fiercely loyal.

     Toddlers also have an insatiable curiosity and a zest for life that most of us have lost. They find immeasurable joy in the simplest things, whether it's running through a sprinkler, digging their toes in the sand, dancing to silly songs or hugging their favorite animal. Every meltdown and struggle is worth the sound of their infectious laughter and the light in their eyes when you walk into the room. Their unvarnished souls are a glimpse into what our lives are intended to be---joyous, unfettered and filled with boundless love.


 

     I remember the day I dropped my oldest child off for his first day of kindergarten. Once the teacher smiled politely, waved goodbye and shut the door, I rounded the corner and sobbed. My baby boy was growing up too fast.

     Fast forward to his college years. It was deja vu all over again when my husband and I hugged him goodbye and drove away from the dormitory that was to be his new home. Once we were out of view, I curled up in the fetal position on the passenger side of the car and cried during the entire trip back home.

     I survived all those years my son was gone, and went through it again with my oldest daughter when she picked a school several hours from home. But I was prepared, and by the time she left for college, I was a seasoned veteran of parenting long-distance. Fortunately, my two younger children chose to stay local, which spared me another round of emotional goodbyes from the steps of a college dorm.

     Now that I have all four of my offspring living nearby, I've noticed not only a stronger bond between us, but a few subtle idiosyncrasies that no one warned me about once my baby chicks grew up and flew the coop. I was surprised to learn the following about my adult children:

* My kids still believe dear old Mom and Dad have only had sex four times in their life---once for each kid. There's something to be said about living in a state of denial.

* They expect us to babysit their pets whenever they go out of town. Good thing none of them own a six foot python, otherwise we'd have a problem.

* Even though they have washing machines down the hall in their apartment buildings, they prefer to haul an industrial size bag of dirty clothes to our house, especially if they're fresh out of quarters.

*They're convinced that we have gold bars buried in the backyard and that we cash them out from time to time to afford our monthly beer budget. The rest, they are certain, will be liquidated to fund our future retirement home on wheels.

* The first thing they do when they walk in our door is head straight for the refrigerator. We might as well hang a neon sign above it that says, FREE FOOD. Same goes for our supply of toilet paper and paper towels.

*They never keep a stash of envelopes or stamps, and will pass by the post office next to their home in favor of driving the extra five miles to our house to borrow one of each.

*Even though they know how to wash and wax a car, they still bribe their father to clean their vehicles with the promise of a bottle of Jameson whiskey.

*On the rare occasions that we get an invite to their apartments for dinner, we have yet to eat a meal off of anything other than paper plates. At least they use real silverware. Have you ever tried cutting a steak with a plastic knife and fork?



     The best part of having adult children is the friendship we share. The door is always open and the fridge is well stocked for their impromptu visits.

     Little do they know that we really ARE saving up for that retirement on wheels….and the day we leave, I'm taking all the toilet paper and paper towels with me.  

     Last month I wrote about the fifteen things no parent should have to say to their teen daughter (you can read it HERE). So what about the boys? I've raised two sons, as well as daughters, and it seems that in every stage of my boys' lives, from the moment they stood unassisted to when they took their first step, there was a battery of things I NEVER imagined I would have to say to my little male bundles of joy. When they were young, it was the simple stuff like, "I know it looks like a Tootsie Roll but you can't play with the cat's poop"…..."Stop eating dirt---it's not part of the food pyramid"…... "No, that humming wand you found hidden in the back of Mommy's drawer can NOT be used as lightsaber while playing Star Wars."

     Raising boys is a whole different ballgame, and their teen years are known to reduce even the toughest of parents down to a puddle of anxiety and insecurities. Please know that if you have uttered one or more of the following statements to your teenage son, you're not alone:



*You're gonna need a chain saw to cut those toenails.

*If you keep 'borrowing' gas money from me, I'm trading in your car for a Vespa.

*Just because you have laser lights and a stereo system the size of a Winnebago in your room, it doesn't mean that you're allowed to host a rave every weekend. Our house withstood several hurricanes, but I'm not sure it'll last through the rumblings of your bass.

*Please chew with your mouth closed. I don't need to see how fast your molars can masticate a steak.

*Did you wipe?

*You're going to have arthritis in your fingers by the time you're twenty-five from using your cell phone 24/7.

*I don't care how pretty she is---when you take her out on a date, you'd better be thinking with the big head and not the little head.

*All that stinky laundry on your closet floor is making your room smell like a Porta Potty that hasn't been cleaned out in months.

*If you're going to spend THAT much time in the shower, then you need to start scrubbing all the extra  "conditioner" off the shower doors.

*Pay your speeding tickets before you end up on a television episode of Cops.

*No, you will not get carpal tunnel syndrome from flushing the toilet several times a day.

*It's going to take an ice cream scoop to clean all that wax out of your ears.

You need to make a cell phone payment instead of spending your entire paycheck on sneakers…unless, of course, you plan on ditching the wheels in favor of using your feet to get around.

*Yesterday there was a five pound ham in the refrigerator, and now it's gone. A gallon of milk, two bags of chips, a loaf of bread and an entire box of Oreos are also missing. If you step on the bathroom scale, I think I can solve the mystery of the missing food.

*Belching the alphabet is not a skill that women find attractive.


Thankfully, one of my sons is now an adult who has turned into a fine gentleman. My youngest (and feistiest) still has a few more years to go, but the way I see it, he'll be the one who ends up married with four children. Hopefully all boys.

I'd better keep an ice cream scoop in my pocket at all times…..just in case.








***This week I was thrilled to be featured on Beyond Your Blog! You can read my post about living the writer's life here: http://www.beyondyourblog.com/its-a-writers-life-for-me/#

    Welcome to the April edition of Fly On the Wall groups postings, hosted by  Baking In A Tornado.  Today, 15 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you'd see if you were a fly on the wall in their homes.
 
    As for my house, there has been a lot of yawning going on. Lately, I'm always tired. The Hubs is tired too, and now the teen is tired. Heck, I'm beginning to feel envious of my dogs because they get to nap all day long. I'm trying to combat my drowsiness with more coffee, but even after several cups of java strong enough to wake the dead, I'm STILL yawning at the gym and dreaming of when I can curl up on my Tempur-Pedic.

     Here's a glimpse of some odd, conversational tidbits going on around me while I was trying to sneak in a few cat naps over the weekends:


"I wish our female dog was spayed. When she gets her period, she leaves her doggy DNA all over the new carpet."

"Why don't stores sell elephant print leggings for working out?"
"Because no sane woman would wear elephants plastered all over her butt and thighs while doing squats at the gym."

"Don't bother me while I'm writing."
"Are you working on the new book?"
"Nope. This little piece is known as Book Proposal Purgatory."

"When you have A.D.D., your brain is like a computer with 20 tabs open all at once."

"You know we can't afford another car, Hon. You can still squeeze a few more years out of that 1999 Honda Odyssey minivan."
"That's easy for you to say! I'm the only man in Broward County driving the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car from hell."

"When it comes to quality time in the bathroom, our son defies the success of any odor-eliminating spray."

"Nana, do you want a lobster roll or lobster ravioli for dinner?"
"No thank you. I don't like my lobster adulterated."

"I'm convinced that stemless wine glasses were invented for sloppy drunks."

"On Pinterest, it says that pinning a dryer sheet to your shirt will ward off mosquitoes when you're outside.  I have a better idea---just pin a poopy diaper to your hat. I'm pretty sure that would keep the mosquitoes away."
"Yeah, but then you'd be inviting the flies to a feast."

"I'm so full from dinner, I feel like someone put a sandbag in my stomach."

"It doesn't matter if you're in your 80's---you can still join a Cross Fit Class. But it will have a different name----like "Wheel Chair Aerobics" or "Walker Workout."

"If you eat that blueberry, raisin, and apple bran muffin before going to Zumba, you're going to end up with fruit flavored flatulence at the gym."

"After all the margaritas I've consumed tonight, I think the last mosquito that just bit me is going to be hungover for a week."