Prize-winning [Bogus] Status Updates

When I need a good laugh, I know where to turn: The Washington Post Style Invitational. When I lived in D.C., I word turn to the Style Invitational first when the Sunday Post arrived. I don't read it as regularly nowadays, but I still end up laughing out loud each time I do read it.

Yesterday's edition had me emitting guffaws, yet again. Here's the link, then scroll down to "Report from Week 874."

My fave? Probably the one about strewing BP executives heads along the shore.

Enjoy!

(Photo credit: Bob Staake for The Washington Post)

A Brilliant Solution

You might remember several months ago when I posted about "The Gift of Giving." Some of you probably thought I was waaaay too into myself.

The other day I saw a quote somewhere about putting thought into a gift, and started ruminating (i.e. obsessing) again about this issue.

Then, today, an epiphany entered my inbox. The daily e-mail from Real Simple magazine, which I love, listed "6 Problem-Solvers." The first of their problem solvers is perfect for last minute gifts or gifts given by procrastinators. Texting with Benefits! Really!

Look at the Giiv site. Ingenious!! Movie tickets. Spa treatments. Wine. Barnes & Noble books. Krispy Kreme donuts! Toms Shoes (and an extra pair of shoes for a needy child!)! You walk into the store or restaurant or logon to the provider's Web site and provide the code in the text on your phone and—Voila! You've received your gift.

I wish I had thought of this. I think it is an absolutely brilliant solution to an age-old problem. (The problem? Forgetfulness!) Listen, y'all, I'm not proud. You want to give me a gift for my next birthday (when I'll be 61 and needing cheer)? Think Giiv.

Brilliant!

A Really Good Guy

Who knew, at our age, that such a good guy existed?

My Jazzman—marking a new year in his life today—is a remarkable man. He's hard working, diligent, thoughtful. He's a supportive and loyal friend. He's a loving son, brother, and cousin. He's gentle and caring to my grandchildren.

He's a man of integrity, a man of passion, a man of laughter. And he's cute. He's so cute I want to pinch his cheeks and pat his bum.

He has brought great joy into my life since the day I met him, just over six months ago.

I wish him love and happiness in the year ahead.

Happy 60th Birthday, Jazzman.

The Best of Summer

I am not possessed of a green thumb. As much as I love having flora around, I'm unskilled at keeping it alive and growing. But the former owner of my house created much beauty around her during her tenure here, as earlier noted.

Every day this week, I've gone out to pick a bowlful of blackberries to mix with my morning banana. They fall off the bush into my bowl! And the day lilies. Oh My Gosh. Look at those lilies! They appear to be triples and are layer upon layer of gorgeous!











What a privilege to live in this elegant old house, surrounded by so much beauty. Again—Thank you, Miss Villani.

Vacation Report

The Jazzman and I were honored that Esteemed Parents of Beautiful Grandchildren allowed us to host the Babes at the vacation cottage on Lake Erie for the first part of the week. Tyler drove up last night and took them home early this morning.

We've had a ball, swimming, playing, making new friends, and—best of all for Ridley—making faces at the camera with Grandma.

A big salute of appreciation to Tyler and Jaci for trusting us with their precious offspring.

More later. I'm at the Madison Public Library (Quick - Name that musical!) in the air conditioning working this afternoon. It's too damned hot outside to do anything but swim!

What a Difference One Percent Makes!

We're going on vacation tomorrow—a week at the lake. The Jazzman tells me it's a very casual environment, where the women's wardrobes consist of shorts and capris and T-shirts. I'm sad to report that I've put on weight since last summer. Significant weight. My doctor prescribed beta blockers to curb my headaches and decrease heart palpitations. But the side effect, for me at least, is weight gain. Therefore, only the clothes that were [very] loose (i.e. baggy) last summer still fit me this summer.

I have several pair of Not Your Daughter's Jeans® (NYDJ), which I wear almost daily. All are size 12 and fit me fine. My favorite pair of jeans were purchased in the Costa Mesa Nordstrom during the summer of 2007, and are a dream to wear. They're 12s and still fit me, so I should be able to slip on another pair of size 12 NYDJs with no problem, right?

I ran to the Beachwood Nordstrom after rehearsal on Wednesday evening and picked a couple pair of NYDJ cropped pants off the rack. To make sure they would fit, and not exhibiting any pride at all, I grabbed a 14 along with the 12. I looked at the labels first to make sure the denim was a stretch fabric with Lycra woven in. I was wearing my favorite NYDJ jeans at the time. I slipped them off and slipped on the 12s. Nope. Not even close to buttoning. So dropped them back on the chair and slipped on the 14s. What? Buttoning but not zipping? Size 14? If this is supposed to be funny, I'm not laughing.

The sales associate and I discussed the problem and starting looking more closely at the labels on several pair of NYDJ jeans. The labels we pulled said 99% denim, 1% Lycra, and 98/2, and 97/3. The pair I was wearing, and that I love*love*love, say 96% denim, 4% Lycra.

Would you ever have guessed that one percent of Lycra in a fabric weave could make that much difference?

I finally found a little pair of soft green crops that will go with a beige Chico's T that I love. They're not the most comfortable pants I've ever bought, but with my Nordstrom Rewards certificate, they were less than $20 and will be cool in the 85-90 degree temps under blazing sun that we're supposed to get on the lake next week.

While we're discussing clothes, I'll confess that I bought a new pair of white slides. I have a pair of Ecco white slides that I've had since around 1990. They're the most comfortable casual shoes I own, but a dog EEFFH and I brought home from the pound to please his kids in about 2002 chewed into them, and they look incredibly ratty. When Jazz suggested I wear them to a party last Sunday and I cringed, I realized they needed to go in the trash.

I received a catalog from FootSmart earlier this week. When flipping through it, I noticed that the Walking Cradles' Alva slide was almost identical to the Ecco slide. And, of course, the white was on sale. There's a new Top Shoe on my most comfortable casual shoes list now. The sole is cushioned, and the shoe is just a dream to wear. I think they will be on my feet for rehearsal at Blossom this afternoon!

My final shoe note is to show you this incredible shoe, which I found while looking for a picture for today's post. What a kick! Have you ever seen anything so wild?! That's the sort of outrageous shoe that my daughter-in-law loves to wear, and looks fabulous in.

And my final note on the weight problems is that I was ready to sign the gym membership papers yesterday when my doctor called and told me my left medial meniscus is torn and will require surgery. I see the ortho on July 29th. I am not happy.

I've been chiding Jazz for not shoving me onto the grass when he saw me start to fall on the pavement. What a perfect opportunity he had to release his aggression on me. Now he has to put up with my limping and complaining for another four weeks, then wait on me hand and foot while I recuperate from surgery.

Sounds like a plan, huh?

Aren't We All in This Together?

Or: Why I Love Facebook

I occasionally field questions from real-world friends who wonder why I have a profile on Facebook, what I get from it. I have to admit that on the mornings when I wake up with only a cat in my bed, the first thing I do is reach for my iPhone.

First I flick through my e-mail, quickly deleting notes I have no interest in, sending spam to the appropriate folder. I glance at the remaining notes, mentally noting the ones I want to read later on a big screen, and scanning the ones I deem important enough for immediate attention.

Then I turn to Facebook. I flick down through screen after screen of status updates from friends, neighbors, and companies I like. I marvel that so many people have so much to say. I read the comments people have written to my posts of the night before, and note who has "liked" something I've said. I post "likes" where a friend has accomplished something difficult. I write an encouraging comment where someone has faced a difficult challenge. I laugh and I sigh and I shake my head. I make a mental note to find more good information to post to several business sites for which I am responsible.

And I feel connected.

Yesterday I posted that I was thinking of John on the anniversary of his death. I don't say much about him any more, out of consideration for my new beau's feelings and the fact that my life is moving on from "me" to "us". But the anniversary of John's birth and our marriage and his death are big days to me. He was huge in my life, and I will forever be grateful for how my life changed as a result of knowing him.

And then several old friends who knew him posted comments to my post. That meant the world to me.

We all plod along in our lives, one foot in front of the other, absorbed in our activities and our thoughts. We think about our friends and the people we come into daily contact with, but we don't think quite so much about whether anyone else is thinking of us. For me, Facebook helps me see that many kind and gentle people are plodding along a similar road to mine.

In the old days, years one through—oh—six of my post-John life, I would think of him. But no one else ever noted the date. None of his family members ever called or wrote me to share a memory or say they missed his smiling face and active sense of humor. I felt totally and completely alone. I felt I was the only one who remembered this bon vivant with whom I shared ten years on this earth.

Nowadays, I might post a memory of him on Facebook, and without fail someone will comment. His pre-me wife and I are friends and she is quick to share a thought or feeling; his sisters-in-law tell me when they remember something funny or meaningful that he did. Our friends with whom we sang in The Washington Chorus are extremely generous in sharing their memories with me.

Yes, life goes on, but our memories keep us grounded in the lives that brought us to where we are today.

People say, "I'm not going on Facebook. I don't want anyone knowing my business." For me, having people who know my "business" gives me the courage and strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

To quote the "Golden Girls" theme song, "Thank you for being a friend."