Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Natural Remedies For Hair Loss

I've noticed that as I get deeper into menopause, I'm beginning to lose some of my hair, especially near my temples. Part of the problem may be due to me pulling my hair back in combs and ponytails every day. Since I've always been interested in ideas for correcting hair loss, I'm happy to share a post today written by Christina Morales on the all-natural remedies available for hair loss.

Top 5 All-Natural Remedies To Cure Hair Loss

For women, hair is so much more than just hair. It’s our identity, a fashion statement and even provides a sense of security. If you have thinning hair or hair loss, this condition can be devastating but there are a variety of natural remedies for hair loss in women. Keep in mind though, if you have permanent alopecia none of these herbal remedies will help.

REMEDIES TO STOP HAIR LOSS

Hair loss can occur for many reasons. Here are some natural ways to prevent hair loss:

Limit Damage to Your Hair – Excessive curling or straightening, putting your hair in tight updos, or brushing or washing it too much can cause thinning hair and hair breakage.
Reduce Stress – Relationships gone wrong, a stressful job, and money problems are all huge stressors that can cause your hair to fall out. Exercise, meditation or taking up a hobby to reduce stress can help to bring your body back into balance.
Add Biotin – Biotin, also called Vitamin B7, is extremely important for growing healthy hair. Oats, soybeans, nuts, broccoli, spinach, brewer’s yeast, potatoes, bananas, and cauliflower are all good sources of biotin.
Block Dihydrotestosterone – Dihydrotestosterone is a hormone that kills hair follicles. Consuming saw palmetto or licorice blocks the formation of this hormone to prevent hair loss.
More Vitamin C – Vitamin C (which is also called ascorbic acid) is one of the most effective and safest nutrients. Vitamin C helps the body to absorb iron which is needed to prevent hair loss. Citrus fruits are a great source of Vitamin C.

REMEDIES TO PROMOTE HAIR REGROWTH

There are many ways to promote healthy hair growth. Here are some hair regrowth remedies that you can easily adapt into your lifestyle:

Add Protein and Iron to Your Diet – Protein helps to strengthen the building blocks in your body. You should be eating two to three 3-ounce servings of meat or approximately four to five servings of dairy and beans each day to give your body the nutrition it needs to rebuild your cells.
Coconut Oil Massage – Coconut oil has been getting a lot of attention lately for its many amazing benefits. When you slightly heat up coconut oil and massage it on your scalp, this will increase blood flow to the hair follicles to strengthen and condition them.
The Benefits of Aloe Vera – Aloe Vera is a great option to promote hair growth and you can easily apply the juice or gel onto your scalp. Aloe Vera contains an enzyme called proteolytic that helps in repairing the dead skin cells on the scalp. This treatment can also be used as a conditioner to promote smooth, shiny hair and to manage dandruff or an itchy scalp.
What’s a Vasodilator? – Vasodilators open up the blood vessels in the scalp therefore increasing blood and oxygen for healthy hair growth. Safflower and potassium rich foods like bananas are good sources of vasodilators.
Rinse With Apple Cider Vinegar – This traditional remedy has been around for decades. Rinsing your hair with apple cider vinegar stimulates the hair follicles and maintains your hair’s pH balance which causes your hair to grow faster.

Sources

“Natural Ways to Strengthen Hair”. WebMD. Accessed October 3, 2017. https://www.webmd.com/skin-problems-and-treatments/hair-loss/features/natural-treatments-for-hair-loss#1

“19 Amazing Ways To Prevent Hair Loss In Women”. Organic Facts. Accessed October 3, 2017. https://www.organicfacts.net/health-benefits/other/home-remedies-for-hair-loss-in-women.html

Author: Christina Morales

Bio: This article was written on behalf of Periscope Group, a consumer advocacy group that provides support, education and direct connection to legal counsel for those that have been injured by an unsafe drug or device.

Friday, November 3, 2017

Things That Make You Say, "Ugh!"

We all have those craptastic days when multiple things go wrong. Bad things. Some call it Murphy's Law. Others simply refer to it as a streak of bad luck. I like to blame my misfortune on gremlins, because it's easier to blame them, rather than admit that I may or may not have done something stupid.

I was inspired to write a post about the things that make me say, "UGH!" after reading my friend Seanna's blog---The Seanna Method, on this very same subject. She came up with quite a few things that drive her crazy, but I have some more pet peeves of my own to add to the list, such as:

Stepping outside your back door in the morning, right into a pile of dog poo....barefoot.

When you just finish waxing the car and it rains.

Digging out slimy food particles that are stuck in the dish drain <gag>

When someone puts the toilet paper roll on backwards. Savages!

You think you're done folding that mountain of laundry only to find that the dryer is packed with more clothes. Hey, at least they're clean!

When you're trying to stick to your diet and the kids bring home a large pizza....with extra pepperoni on top.

You get out of the shower, towel off, and realize you forgot to shave your legs. Decision time: shave or be mistaken for Bigfoot.

When you're napping on a Sunday afternoon and the kids pop over for a surprise visit...with three of their loudest friends.

The way your stomach feels when you overdo it.....such as after a Thanksgiving feast and that second helping of pumpkin pie you should have skipped.

You accidentally wash your new t-shirt in hot water and it shrinks down two sizes. Your shirt is now a crop top. Welcome to the 80's!

When you've sworn off sugar for the month, and someone shows up at work with a box of donuts.

You're late for an appointment but you can't find the car keys you had in your hand five minutes ago. Early dementia?

When its 90 degrees out, you're hot flashing, and the A/C quits.

You're more than halfway done writing an email or essay online and the internet goes out. And of course, you forgot to SAVE the document.

When you're trying to get some sleep but your neighbors have gone out for a late evening and left their non-stop barking dog outside.

You're late for work and drive six blocks from home before realizing you might not have locked the front door.

When you're in the middle of watching a really good television program and the cable goes out.

Solicitations for bank loans, credit card debt, and people looking for donations to save wayward cats, who phone your home during the dinner hour. Don't even get me started on the political phone calls......

When friends stop by your house unannounced and you haven't bothered to clean the place in a week. Even worse when you've just microwaved cabbage and salmon for dinner and the house smells like a fishing wharf.

Can you relate to these troublesome situations? What sort of things make you say, "UGH!" ??

****WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This past week I had two essays featured on different sites! Read about my Zumba class bonding experience at Her View From Home. Then check out my perspective on the elderly and how they are being shunned by today's youth-oriented society, which you can find at Fifty Shades Of Aging.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Winter Writer Series: Guest Post By Juju Hook

I'm so pleased to have Juju Hook, author of the new book, Hot Flashes, Carpools, and Dirty Martinis--The Quintessential Guide for Turning Midlife into PrimeTime on the site today! I met Juju online through social media, and was immediately intrigued by her quirky, midlife humor. She was kind enough to send me a copy of her book, along with a lovely martini set-up. That's when I knew she was my kind of gal! I love her comedic style of writing, and wanted to share her book with you, dear readers, because so many of you will relate to what she writes!

Juju has graciously agreed to share an excerpt from her book on Meno Mama's site. After you take a look, please click on her Amazon link and order your copy today!

MY JERRY SPRINGER SHOW MORNING

I was 35 when our son, Christian, took his first breath. We had him late by parenting industry standards. That put all of us in the unenviable positions, years later, of me beginning early menopause just around the time Christian was reaching puberty. Menopause and puberty go together like beer and ice cream. For about a year, our house was constantly in a low state of rumble, right on the edge of serious upset.

One morning when Christian was 13, we had a Jerry Springer Show episode in our house. It left me sitting on the edge of his bed, with him having just climbed out his second-story window into a rainstorm. And me with my head in my hands, pajamas smelly and soaked, asking myself through the olive-tinged fog of a martini hangover, “How the hell did we get here?”

This episode also launched me into a new career.

I had awakened that Friday morning to the sound of rain pounding on our clay-tile roof. The pounding in my head was an echo. The night before, I’d made a bold choice to forego the Pinot Noir I’d come to love (and trust) with dinner, and instead enjoy a couple of dirty martinis. My rationale was entirely sound. The recent shift in my hormones had played a cruel trick on my relationship with velvety red wines. The wine still went down like a charm, but the days that followed—no matter how small the quantity consumed—had become painful, muddled, gloomy, and unproductive. I’d wisely decided to try something different.

I’d also hot-fashed through the night, in a repeated cycle that was longer but every bit as reliable as the cycle of waves that tumbled onto our beloved Ponto State Beach down the street. The cycle began the moment I fell into my deepest sleep, and repeated once every 20 minutes until the 6:00 a.m. alarm. Each time, I’d be pulled out of a serene and glassy slumber by an internal heat wave that would rise and crest gloriously at what felt like a thousand degrees. Then I would kick off the covers in a fit and drift back to sleep. Moments later, I’d be woken again—drenched from sweat, totally exposed, teeth chattering—as the wave crashed, right at the edge of my sanity.

One of the few pursuits more frustrating than struggling to sleep through hot flashes is fighting to wake a pubescent boy. So while the morning alarm marked the end of one battle, it signaled the beginning of the next. My body was awake. But my sense of humor would need a while to catch up.

Groggy and preoccupied, I headed downstairs to the kitchen, an angry and insistent voice in my head screaming, “COFFEE, COFFEE, COFFEE!” As I walked off the last step, my bare foot landed squarely in a plushly carpeted puddle of freezing water.

It was on like fucking Donkey Kong.

My in-laws were in the house that morning. They were wintering with us, having recently flown in from Germany, which helped to create the perfect storm. The entire situation was intensified by the actual storm that had seized San Diego after months of drought, and by my lack of attention to the sticky slurry of leaves and dirt that had clogged our rain gutters in the meantime.

The small lake that snapped me out of my stupor was about three inches deep and ran the length of our hallway. It took me only 10 frantic seconds to discover the source. At the rate of approximately one bucket per minute, water from outside was gushing through the vent into the laundry room, just on the other side of my in-law’s bedroom wall.

While my screams of “SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” were not a terribly elegant way to wake the sleeping Germans, they were effective. In a split second, we were all standing in the hallway, our pajama bottoms soaked, staring at one another like passengers on a sinking ship.

German in-laws, as beautiful chance would have it, are the best possible houseguests in a moment of non-existential crisis. They know what to do when shit hits the fan. And they are unbelievably efficient at getting it done.

In a literal flash, my father-in-law was outside assessing the lake that had formed along the side of the house. Seconds later, he was on the roof (torrential downpour be damned), scooping leaves from the gutter. My mother-in-law grabbed a broom and, before I could shout a single obscenity more, began sweeping water from the laundry room into the garage. I gathered towels, rugs, and finally the dirty laundry, to sop up what she couldn’t sweep.

Nearly 45 minutes whizzed by before I realized I’d forgotten to wake the sleeping teen.

Today was an especially bad day for a late awakening— Mastery Learning Day. This would set the stage for an emotional terrorist attack from which we wouldn’t recover until hours later. And for an existential crisis for me that took me the better part of two years to clean up. (Sadly, my German in-laws had no efficient solution for this.)

Mastery Learning Day was a hallowed occasion and somewhat new to our family. The process at The Grauer School, where Christian was a new seventh-grader at the time, works like this. The students are required to set a Mastery Learning Level in each class of no lower than 80%. They must complete every assignment at or above that grade level, even if it means reworking it several times. Using this system, the students master subjects before moving on. On the last day of the quarter—dubbed Mastery Learning Day—they must submit portfolios for each class, organized to include every assignment from the prior 13 weeks.

There’s a tasty carrot for the kids on this special day. If they present their fully organized portfolios and obtain signatures from every teacher, they earn a half day off school to muck around and celebrate. Otherwise, they’re required to hang out at school and finish whatever assignments are missing or not up to par, while their friends are out having a blast.

This was to be our family’s second experience with Mastery Learning Day. The first had been a veritable shit show, filled with drama and tears. Christian was upset as well. He had to complete three hours of make-up math work while the other kids hung at the beach, and he sulked for days afterwards.

If you’ve ever met any 13-year-old boys, you know that “organized” is a wholly unnatural state for these perpetually preoccupied creatures. So you can imagine my trepidation as I—soaked, sleep-deprived, still in fight-or-flight mode, and without my morning coffee—climbed the stairs to his room, knowing that today organization would be the key to the kingdom.

I threw open the door, switched on the light, and shouted......

WANT MORE??? Buy the book and you can read the rest HERE!

AUTHOR BIO:

Juju Hook is a brand strategist, author, coach, and speaker dedicated to rebranding middle age for women. Her goal is to inspire one million women to live out the second half of their lives with more passion and joy than the first. Her proprietary system uncovers the 1 question, 3 problems, and 6 lies that midlife women must recognize and overcome in order to live out the dreams that they’ve set aside—or kept hidden—until now. Using Juju's system, women turn midlife into PrimeTime, and free themselves to pursue goals that have, until now, been beyond their wildest imagination. And in the process, they become a whole lot happier, and groovier to be around.

Juju is a firm believer in both big, hairy goals and the enduring truth the past is not a reliable predictor of the future. She ran her first marathon at 40, completed her 200-hour yoga teacher certification at 45, ran her first triathlon (an Ironman 70.3) at 46, and walked away from a 25-year-career and started an online business at 47.

And at 50, she wrote her first book: Hot Flashes, Carpools, and Dirty Martinis--The Quintessential Guide for Turning Midlife into PrimeTime.

Juju lives in San Diego with her husband, her son, and her Golden Retriever.

Friday, October 27, 2017

Winter Writer Series: Guest Post By Margaret Lashley

I'm thrilled to have Margaret Lashley, author of Glad One: Starting Over Is A @%&%#! , on the blog today! I "met" Margaret online in one of the social media writer's groups that I belong to, and immediately felt that I had found a kindred spirit. Margaret has written several funny, women's fiction books, and today she is generously sharing a chapter from her latest. On Amazon, the book is described as, "Glad One is a satirical look at divorce, single-hood and climbing back up the social scale told through the eyes of a sarcastic, reluctantly redneck woman who's a magnet for the absurd."

I'm already hooked after reading several chapters----Margaret's humor is something I can certainly relate to, and I think that you will, too!

GLAD ONE: STARTING OVER IS A @%&%#!

St. Petersburg, Florida only had two seasons – summer and not- summer-yet. It was not-summer-yet, but just barely. I first met Glad on May 10, 2009. I remember because I was trying to make the most of “The end of days.” I called the first two weeks of May that because anybody with any sense (translation, not a tourist or a transplant), didn’t venture out in the Florida sun between 10 a.m. and 5 p.m. from the middle of May to the end of October. Not if they could help it, that is. And with no job at the time, I could help it.
I was determined to get to Sunset Beach early that Sunday. Not just to beat the heat, but the five-dollar fee as well. If I got there before the lot attendant, I could park for free at Caddy’s, my favorite beach bar.

I was attracted to Sunset Beach for three reasons. One, it was gorgeous – sugar-white sand and water the color of a fresh robin’s egg. Two, the tourists hadn’t discovered it yet. And three, it was the only local strip of beach that allowed open containers (aka BYOB alcohol). Caddy’s bar sat right on gorgeous Sunset Beach, sandwiched between a patch of virgin sand dunes and a recently erected, three-story McMansion the color of pumpkin puke.

In stunning contrast to the prissy new house, Caddy’s was pure, relaxed, old-school Florida. To be honest, it wasn’t much more than an old beach shack with a front porch and a rooftop deck scabbed onto it with bent nails and duct tape. The bottom floor facing the Gulf didn’t even have an exterior wall. If it rained hard or the temperature dropped below 65 degrees, the easy-going folks at Caddy’s unfurled plastic flaps like tent windows against the inclement weather. But on good days, which were most days, there’d be nothing between Caddy’s tipsy patrons and the turquoise Gulf of Mexico but a hundred feet of squeaky, blindingly white sand. Caddy’s fit right in with its laid-back vibe, good food, live music and a full liquor bar. Being a native Floridian, I appreciated that it wasn’t a tiki bar. After all, this was not freaking Hawaii.

When I got to the beach that morning, I’d planned on getting in a stroll before the humidity turned the air to soup, and then the sun heated that soup to steam. I thought about splurging for breakfast at one of Caddy’s picnic tables on the beach afterward. But being a loner, and on a budget as tight as last year’s jeans, I decided against it.

It was Mother’s Day. Not being a mother myself, or having one I was keen to celebrate, I planned to let the day go by as unnoticed as possible. I got lucky and pulled into the lot in time to avoid the attendant. I slipped off my flip-flops and shorts and put them on the floorboard of Shabby Maggie, my 1963 Ford Falcon Sprint convertible.

I had to admit it. Maggie suited me. Today’s cars all looked the same. I couldn’t have told a Prius from a Pontiac to save my life. But those older cars like Maggie had style. With her curvy, Batmobile rear-end, cherry-red upholstery and Wimbledon-white exterior, Maggie was a classic beauty. All the nicks and dents and faded spots reminded her she’d seen better days. Boy, could I relate.

As I reached into the backseat for my beach bag and chair, a loud wolf whistle rang out over the rumble of a diesel engine. I didn’t even waste the energy to look up. Instead, I just shook my head and wondered what desperate soul could find the sight of my flabby ass in bathing suit worth that much effort. I hoisted my beach chair under one arm, hooked my bag over the other and picked my way across the crushed-shell parking lot.

As I reached the white picket fence leading out to the beach, I spied an old woman lying on a lounger a good fifty feet from the shoreline. I’d seen her there countless times over the last few months. She was a wiry, leather-skinned old bat who, had I met on the street, I’d have labeled a bag lady. But there at the beach she fit right in. Maybe stripping down to a bathing suit somehow leveled the playing field.

To be honest, she reminded me a lot of my friend Berta, a crusty old psychologist from New York. We’d shared some laughs together in Italy, and she’d helped me get through some tough times in Germany. Before she died, Berta had warned me about making friends with strangers. I hadn’t heeded her advice then, but I was trying to now. I couldn’t afford another disastrous mistake.

The old woman always set up camp near the same wispy clump of sea oats, so it had been easy to avoid her so far. That day, however, my luck finally ran out. The wind blew sand in my eye, and as I fumbled along trying to get it out, I’d wandered blindly within earshot of her.

“Nice toe rings,” she croaked in a scarred, toady voice that perfectly matched her appearance.
Sprawled out on a pink, plastic beach lounger, she reminded me of one of those dried-up frogs you can still find now and then in politically incorrect souvenir shops.

I was running on just one cup of coffee that morning, so it took a moment to realize she was talking to me. I sighed and wiped my eye again.

“Thanks.” I turned to take a step toward the water, but the old woman wasn’t having it.

“Wanna beer?”

She grinned at me from under a pink Gilligan hat. Her oversized dentures looked clownish, wedged between two wide smears of bright-red lipstick.

“It’s Sunday, you know. They ain’t servin’ booze ’til ’leven today.”

Her salty-sweet Southern accent had a familiar ring. I’d spent three decades trying to rid myself of one just like it. She tilted her head and motioned toward a small cooler nestled in the sand beside her. I shook my head.

“No thanks. I’m good.”

I forced a smile and gave her a quick once-over. The old lady was one shade up from mahogany and as wrinkled as a linen pantsuit after a high-stakes game of Twister. Her arms and legs looked like four Slim Jims sticking out of a neon green bathing suit. It was the kind of simple, one-piece suit women over forty wear. One that supports the boobs and hides the belly. I was grateful for her modesty.

Freckles and white spots covered the old woman’s dark-brown arms and legs. The Florida sun hadn’t been kind. She could have been fifty-five or ninety-five. With hard-core beach bums, it was impossible to tell. But given the full-on dentures, I placed her in her late sixties – at the youngest.

“Okie dokie then, have it your way,” Slim Jim said.

She watched me carefully from behind black, bug-eyed sunglasses. Her gaze never shifted as she reached instinctively into the cooler, pulled out a can, then cracked the tab on a family-size Fosters. I turned and took another step toward the water when I thought I heard her say, “Screw you, Kiddo.”

I whirled around to face her.

“What?” I asked, thinking I must have heard her wrong......

Want to read more? You can buy the book HERE!

BIO:

A lover of laughter and aficionado of the absurd, author Margaret Lashley brings her unique, sideways look at the world to the page in her hilarious and irreverent Val & Pals series of seriously funny women's fiction. Each of her books explores the ups and downs of being a woman while mining life for all the laughs along the way.

She also penned How to be Happy When Life Treats You Crappy, a personal workbook based on her world-wide travels in search of what makes people resiliently happy. Margaret is a native Floridian and lives in St. Petersburg, Florida. Write to her at: Contact@margaretlashley.com. She loves to hear from fans!

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Switch Up Your Mealtimes...For Good!

Do you miss the good ol' days when family actually sat down to share dinner together? No cell phones at the table---just old fashion family conversation? It's difficult nowadays to plan meals together, and even more difficult to keep the kids entertained at the table without the use of electronics. My guest writer today, Giles Moore of Ceramictopia, has come up with a product that will help make mealtime more fun for your kids:

Switch Up Your Mealtimes…For Good!

In recent years, I’ve noticed a change in family meal times, with technology having a dynamic effect. I wondered if we stripped it all back to the basic, the simple dinner plate and mug, whether you could still boost imagination, playfulness and engagement for the kids and families as a whole.

There’s also the challenge of being able to encourage your kids to eat all their food, and as we all know, there is no set method, each one of us has to come up with their own idea and/or version.

However, it appears Ceramictopia may have found a solution, (click here to see our Kickstarter campaign)

I went on a mission to try and find a way by using just the plate and mug, if I could bring back fun to meal times. The actual concept stemmed from my brother having fun in an arts and crafts café with various paints, and for fun, he created a Giraffe that went across the plate and mug, which immediately made me think.

We have since created a unique and original concept, being the first company in the world to combine the plate and mug. Individually the products create a scene but together they form an entire story and they really do make you smile every time you look at them.

My company, Ceramictopia, are working with various artists from around the world to create unique and individual designs that have their own distinctive personality. For the Ceramic and Glassware ranges, the designs are focused on animals, sports and landmarks, and for the Paper products, they are focusing on seasonal events such as Halloween, Bonfire night, Christmas, New Year as well as big sporting events such as the Superbowl.

We are running a Kickstarter Campaign to raise funds for the tooling, so they can create the products on mass scale. Please do make sure you check out our Kickstarter Campaign because we believe this is one of those products we need in this world.

About Ceramictopia:

Ceramictopia, a new Sheffield start up, is the first company to combine and create a story using every day dinnerware. Established in the UK using only English products, Ceramictopia is looking to work with artists around the globe to create unique and original designs for dinnerware, to reinject fun back into meal times. All designs are available on ceramic, glass or paper and are based on a memory, dream or an experience. Ceramictopia are launching a Kickstarter Campaign to produce the tooling for the artwork so the products can be mass produced. Go to ceramictopia.com for more information and to back our Kickstarter Campaign. (Press Kit) PHOTO: Giles Moore

Friday, October 20, 2017

Fly On The Wall In October

Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group blog postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today, seven bloggers are once again inviting you into their homes for a sneak peek at what goes on behind their closed doors.

The fly buzzing around my house this past month saw several birthday celebrations and a whole bucketful of love. I feel so blessed to have all of my children living nearby. I see them every weekend, and sometimes during the week. How cool is that? I am also blessed to be married to my best friend, who never fails to make me laugh no matter what curves life throws me. These are the best years of my life, and I look forward to many more birthdays with this crazy family of mine.

Here are some snippets of conversation shared with my hubs this past month:

"We ate too much bean dip at the party. I'm pretty certain we'll be farting in bed all night."
"Well, don't be surprised if we wake up to find our sheets on the ceiling."

"How was your birthday trip to St. Augustine? What did you guys do?"
"Fat. We got fat."

"Why do you need another purse? You already own a gazillion of them."
"I need different colors and sizes to match my outfits."
"Then men should be able buy dozens of wallets for every occasion. A church wallet, a fine dining wallet.....a velcro one for sporting events, a casino wallet with lots of pockets, and a date night wallet with a condom holder...."
"Okay, you made your point. But I'm still buying the damn purse."

"I'm tired of food having so many calories. From now on, I'm eating off your plate because your calories don't count."

ME TO HUBS: "It's time for me to teach you how to twerk."
HUBS: (dressed in underwear and socks) "Are you making me do this because I may or may not have had too many glasses of wine tonight?"
ME: "No, I'm asking you to do it because I need to be entertained."
HUBS: (grabbing bedrail in an attempt to hold his balance while he moves his butt back and forth) "Is this the right way?"
ME: (gasping for air because I can't stop laughing) "It's right if you're trying to imitate a manatee during a mating ritual."
HUBS: "Glad I could amuse you, but I think I just threw my back out...."

"Geez, it's October and its still 87 degrees out. This heat makes it harder than normal for me to be fat."

"You know you're old when you have to pack a knee brace, arch support pads, and extra pain relievers for a trip."

"How's the diet going?"
"Great! I had three egg whites for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and chicken for dinner."
"Good for you---but why can't I find my six leftover chicken wings that were in the fridge?"
"I didn't say what kind of or how MUCH chicken I ate, did I?"

"Did you know that you walk like a penguin when you wake up at 3:00am to go to the bathroom?"
"Yep. I'm doing my best imitation of a Weeble wobbler because they don't fall down."

"Let's buy our Halloween candy now before the store runs out of the good stuff."
"You're not fooling anyone with that excuse. Those mini chocolate bars are for your personal stash. If I buy the treats now, there will be nothing left to pass out on Halloween except for candy corn and gum."
"After 33 years of marriage, you know me too well. Time to trade you in for a newer model..."

****WANT MORE MENO MAMA? Check out my first humor piece on ROBOT BUTT: "The Seven Neighbors Mister Rogers Never Imagined."

Buzz around, see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:

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

Menopausal Mother http://www.menopausalmom.com/

Searching for Sanity http://singlemumplusone. blogspot.com

Spatulas on Parade http://spatulasonparade. blogspot.com/

Never Ever Give Up Hope http://batteredhope.blogspot. com

Bookworm in the Kitchen https://www. bookwormkitchen.com/

The Blogging 911 http://theblogging911.com/ blog

Friday, October 6, 2017

How To Be A Hipster In Your Midlife Years

You've seen them. The Millennial hipsters who wear t-shirts sporting logos from rock bands you saw in concert during the 70's and 80's. The same people who crowd the check-out lines at Starbucks, Whole Foods, and the free beer-sampling stand at the local arts and crafts festival. Seeing them makes you wistful for your younger days when Mom and Dad paid your car insurance and served free hot meals from the kitchen.

No need to despair. You too, can become a hipster (like your adult children) despite your advanced age, by following these easy, "I'm-Gonna-Stay-Young-Forever" steps:

Stock up on plaid flannel shirts from Urban Outfitters and a pair of Doc Martens to conceal your rubberized arch support pads.

Learn how to crochet a sweater made from wheat grass and hemp.

Cash in your 401k and travel around the country in a vintage Airstream to sell healing crystals, Buddha bracelets, and your own brand of organic hummus made from cage-free chic peas.

Grow your own cannabis in decoupage milk cartons stored on your back porch.

Carry a ukulele everywhere you go, even if your rendition of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" sounds more like the neighbor's cat in heat.

Call yourself a "craft brew aficionado" and be well versed in the difference between IPAs and Stouts.

Recycle EVERYTHING, including lint from the dryer that can be knitted into socks.

Enroll in yoga classes but make sure you take plenty of Gas-X before you stretch into downward dog position.

Ditch the frozen meatloaf from 2012 in the back of your freezer and become a vegan.

Master Corn Hole and giant Jenga blocks.

Buy a used Prius---or better yet---get a gerbil-powered bike.

Get a Tattoo of your spirit animal inked on your shoulder---even if that animal happens to be a hippopotamus.

Stash some edibles in your faux leather fanny pack before heading out to a tribal funk music concert at the park.

Learn how to pronounce quinoa.

Grow a beard and buy special wax for shaping it into a facial topiary.

Protest against social inequality, corporate greed, and Alpaca farms.

Buy organic, gluten-free, locally grown food at the farmer's market, even if it means you'll have gastrointestinal issues for months to come from the amount of kale you'll consume.

Take a class in latte art.

Leave a final request in your will to be buried in a biodegradable burial pod, or to have your cremated remains turned into family heirloom jewelry.

Menopausal Mother

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