Well this just happened today.

The last 3 years have been hell on both Rick and me.  I've spent 3 yrs keeping everything to myself, and that has done me no good.  So I decided to see a therapist instead of spending all my time crying.

I mentioned that I didn't think this was a good fit. He didn't like that I used humor. I made a funny, and while he laughed, he said I shouldn't do that.

He told me my sarcasm and humor are a serious problem.  Problem?  It's served me well in 69 years.  

But okay, no smart ass funny remarks with you - noted!  Ever see the Friends episode where Chandler isn't allowed to say what he wants to say, with his sarcastic wit?  His head about explodes. That would be me if I couldn't say those things too. My husband saw that episode and said, "Oh my God, that is 100% you!"  Thankfully, he thinks it's funny.

Now, this old therapist has made a few comments that bothered me, but I kept thinking it was me being sensitive, etc.

Today I left my therapist. I told him I didn't think he and I were a good fit, so I am not going back.

Today, when he asked me where I'd like to live, I said, " Oh, back in NoVa in a heartbeat, but in my teens to my 60s, I'd have said Manhattan. "

The fucker said, "Oh, you don't wanna live there, it's gonna go to hell." I laughed and asked why? 
He said, "They have a new communist mayor."

WTF?????

I said, "Dr V., he is a socialist, not a communist. 
So let me be sure I understand you, you're ok with a US president being controlled by a Russian communist dictator, and you think a socialist is bad?"  He was nodding yes.

"Okay then, I've made the right decision, sir. This is not a good fit for me!"
I left!.

God, how I dislike people! When I would say that I disliked people, I had a friend who would always say, "Oh, you don't really, Peggy." 

Ah, don't confuse my nice smiling Peggy face with how I really feel.
Because, yes, yes, I do. 

Whew!

 Well, the Grinch is happy that's over! 

I hope that you all had a wonderful holiday!

My cousin Bobby called me at Xmas, and we laughed on the phone for an hour!

I do wish I could afford to go to Florida to visit him. He can't travel right now due to a medical issue. Lottery Take Me Away!

I'd like to get rid of all my holiday decorations.

I no longer decorate.  We gave away our Frontgate prelit tree before we moved here.

It was a beauty, but we just don't care anymore.

There are only 2 of us.  Since moving here, we have no local friends.  I just don't get a reason to decorate. Rick could not care less. Same with me. See? 

We are grinches.

I have a ton of stuff to donate. I reached out to my sister, who has the same mom as me, and asked if she wanted any of Mom's "antique" bulbs. I can't just toss 'em, but I don't use them anymore. Perhaps donate somewhere, but where?

My nieces will take the rest of the stuff off my hands. 

Oh, I'll keep some things, but not much.

Up north, we used to have such fun holiday parties.

One year, there were so many new people, and all were missing their families, so I decided to have dinner for us all away from our families and get together.  

I put Xmas tablecloths all across the 8ft island and loaded it up with food. I made homemade eggnog, which is far better than the stuff in the box at the grocery store.

If you like eggnog, you would LOVE this. 

I put the eggnog in a big ole punch bowl. Of course, there is bourbon in the eggnog.  I grated some fresh nutmeg on the top and put all the glasses around the punch bowl.  One guest said, "What is this?"  She made such a face. I told her it was eggnog. She said, "Oh, I like eggnog, but what it on the top?"  Again, her nose is all crinkled, and it made me laugh. I said it's nutmeg. She said, "Oh gross."

She chose not to have any and instead went to the bar that was set up. I was now on my 2nd batch to fill up the bunch bowl because everyone else loved it. The woman who made the face said, upon seeing me fill the punch bowl up, that she would try this. So she did.  She looked at me and said, "Damn, this is really good."  I said, "See, I told you you'd like it." She drank so much, I was glad she was walking home.

I didn't make any eggnog this year. I did nothing this year. We had a lovely dinner.

I made what Rick refers to as "my bean thingy" for a side. He loves it.  It was a freak accident. Our garden was overrun with green beans and cherry tomatoes.  

One afternoon I threw some EVOO in a pan and threw in some garlic.(lots) I then put in the tomatoes to burst, then threw in the beans. Put a top on it and let 'em steam/simmer on low. Now it sounds boring and simple. But OMG is it flavorful and yummy.  We could both just eat the beans.  

I will leave you with my new theme.

Remember when Janis Ian sang Seventeen back in 1975?

Just changed the lyrics to 70 instead of 17.  

It made me laugh.  I follow this woman on instagram and she is a damn hoot.

Ecouragment

Well, that's over. 😁

In my Randomness post from Dec 23rd, I mentioned how I find the things my family says to be damn funny. Growing up, there were times when I'd tell friends that my family could be a sitcom.

I have a dear friend who is always offended by them.

Not for things they say to her, but to me. She doesn't understand them, and while I find the things they say very funny, she gets mad at me for doing so.

Example. 

As a kid, my sister, who is 3 years younger than me, were messing around while our father was trying to tell us about this little girl who was grabbed off her bike and raped and killed. She was abducted right in front of her home.

The little girl was about the same age as my sister and me.

My dad had just done plumbing for the family. He was so upset by all of this.

This home was by my aunts, so we went by it all the time. 

So we are in the kitchen. My dad is talking to my sister and me. We were only half paying attention. I was 10 or 11 if I was a day, but I still remember the clothes I was wearing and the full kitchen surrounding me.

My father smacked his hand on the table, which worked; he got our attention. He then said, Peg, pay attention, ugly girls get raped too.

I have never forgotten that. That is classic, my father.

Then, when I was a teenager, and he saw in my yearbook that a boy called me 'the bod', he then demanded to know what I was wearing to school. He yelled at me, my mother etc. He flipped out. If a burka were an option, he would have made me wear one. Look, I developed early. So at 5'2", 105 - 110lbs with a DD cup made me stand out. I tried to hide them, my God, I did. But it's pretty hard to do so. I slouched, I held my books at my chest, etc. My posture was becoming horrible. 

My mom, on the other hand, saw me being ashamed of my body at a very young age. She would make me walk with books on my head and tell me 'shoulders back'. Good posture was her thing. She told me that slouching didn't even hide my boobs; I just looked like a girl with big boobs who slouched. 

Stand up straight and just be proud of who you are, she'd say. See the difference in the two parents?  But c'mon, telling me slouching only makes me look like a girl with big boobs who slouches to this day cracks me up! She had a point. I wasn't hiding these girls for anything. And believe it or not, one of the first things Rick said to me was, "You have really good posture."

I'm thinking that is the 2nd thing he was thinking, but decided that was safe. 
:-)

There were a ton of these types of stories from my childhood.  But here are two more recent ones that I find very funny.

It was during the height of covid. I was doubled over in pain, and Rick took me to the ER by our home. They took me into the back, but would not allow Rick to come back with me due to covid restrictions.  We were all masked etc, but they wouldn't let him.

I sat in this room high as a kite on morphine all alone for what seemed like forever. It was discovered I had diverticulitis on this trip to the ER.  I was flying. Good thing that isn't a legal drug. :-)

I took a photo of myself and sent it to my stepmom.

You can see the black circles around my eyes. I am wearing a hospital gown, and I am wearing a mask. I looked dreadful. 

I texted my stepmom and said, "Guess where I am?"

She texted back, "I love your hair."

She had not seen it since covid turned me white. I had not even styled it, I was sick. So it's even sick hair. LOL

No asking about what I may be doing at the hospital.  Never asked.

Because I was flying high, I never saw these texts until the next day. It made me laugh even sober.

Then, when I had that fall on my face and broke my glasses, I sent this photo to her and asked, "think anyone will notice?"

She asked, "Have you lost weight?"

Nothing about my glasses or my 100th fall of the year. No weight was lost, darn it. 

Yes, these are the ugliest pix i could find of myself to boot.

My friend thinks this is just horrible. I find it funny because that is who they are.

My cheerleader as a kid was my mom. She left me when I was 13.  So if I didn't have a thick skin, Dad would win. As I have shared with you, on her deathbed, she told me to respect him but not to listen to him.  I understood the assignment I had. If I listened to him, did all he wanted, I'd be a nun, a virgin, and skinnier. I'm anti-Catholic, lost my virginity at 17, and I have never been skinny, damn it. Sorry Dad.

Since 1969, I have never heard a "atta girl," "I'm proud of you," or "You can do this, keep going!"  With mom, there was encouragement, and with Dad, it was all negative.  Not just to me, he did this to my sister, too. 

Girls don't go to college for an education; they go to find a husband. 

This was told to me the night before my SATs.  Bite me, Dad.  

But the Peggy Face he taught me was now in full force. Smile, head up, make everything look fine all the time. 😁 

Dad married a woman who saw a lot of things like him. She never encouraged her children. She was a dream crusher to me. But don't think it was because I was a stepchild. She was like this with all her kids. She loved them all, but that was just her way, like Dad. 

I was told my head was in the clouds because I wanted this career that they didn't understand. I was told my style in my home was masculine. We were in a car when I heard this. Rick and I were in the back seat when she said this. He looked at me with the strangest look.  I just shook my head and rubbed my finger across my mouth like a zipper so he wouldn't defend me. It's passive-aggressive like 'Marie Barone' on Everybody Loves Raymond.

You'll never win. They won't get it. You'll only cause more problems; let it go.

He has learned to, but it's far, far harder for him. 

You see, I don't like lace or flowery drapes or flowery bedspreads. Fine for others, just not my style. So what? 

I was told to get a civil service job, so I'd have a pension. They encouraged me to take the mail carrier exam. I did, but I wanted to be a mail carrier like I wanted to be dragged by my hair into the streets.  No, thank you, it's not for me. So I put myself through school with my money and did what I wanted. Did it take me longer than most? Sure. But I did exactly what I was meant to do. 

Bottom line, I could do a lot of funny stories about my family.

To me, they are funny anyway. When we are together with friends, and I tell these stories, everyone laughs like crazy. They always say I should do them in a stand-up comedy routine.  Oh, I  could never stand in front of people, nope. But if Kathleen Madigan could tell them, I know they'd be a hit. I've seen how others respond after the first recoil. :-)

On the TV show,  Everybody Loves Raymon, Marie Barone's passive-aggressive ways were very familiar to me. 

In fact, the very first episode of Everybody Loves Raymond was about a Fruit of The Month Club.  

I saw where Ray Ramono said this was a true story of his parents. He was young and finally making enough money to buy them this gift. And you all know that is way over $100 for 3 months minimum, and close to $500 for a year.  He said he was finally in a position in his life that he could buy them this, and he was proud. Of course, they hated this gift and let him know. I have the same story, only it wasn't fruit.  But just as damn funny to me!

Rick and I laugh so hard at this episode. Recently they showed it on a special of Everybody Loves Raymond.  Rick just kept saying, My God, this is your parents.  Oh, I know. It is funny to me. If only I could make money off of them like he did. 🤭 Can you help with that? LOL

Now, don't get me wrong. They loved us. They did the best they knew how. Neither had a great family life as children, so there is that. They helped us financially, and they gave us a nice life overall. So please don't think I had a rotten childhood. I had everything I needed physically as a kid. Just not emotionally.  It was just different from most, I guess, so I find it funny.

If you had encouraging parents in your life, you are so damn lucky.  

I probably wouldn't have a Peggy Face if I had. 

Merry Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM YOUR FAVORITE GRINCH.

I WISH YOU ALL A HAPPY AND SAFE HOLIDAY!

Randomness

Boy oh boy, I sure got everyone all riled up about the shoes, didn't I?

I learned there are inside shoes that apparently aren't your slippers and outside shoes.  I found that interesting. I learned something new yet again. 

I have doctor's appointments galore before the end of the year - trying to do this all before my new deductible hits again at the first of the year.

My shoulder was barking Sunday night, something awful.  I took some ibuprofen and announced that I was not doing a damn thing the rest of the evening. I was going to sit. 

Rick laughs at me. But normally, if I'm sitting, I'm folding clothes, or reading, even playing my favorite puzzle game on my phone, but never to just SIT.

Rick said he wanted to watch 60 minutes. I saw the subject and said, "you go ahead that is not a topic I wish to watch.  I'll go in the bedroom and watch tv. He said for me to stay put and we'll find something we can both watch. 

We do not watch football and honestly, that is all that is ever on local channels here from Friday nights through Sunday.  They love their football down here.  Rick then jumped to Netflix.  He saw a brand new game show hosted by Neil Patrick Harris.  I said, "Sure, what the hell."

This is a brutal game. So many twists and turns. I got into it and Rick said, "This isn't like you."  I know!  I'm more of the Password kind of gal.

Of course, the team I wanted to win did not. But it was fun.

We watched all 6 episodes.  

The game is called 'What's In The Box? if you wish to check it out.

Monday morning, we learned that CBS was told to yank the story that 60 Minutes was to air. Trump was furious about the piece. 

WTF, am I living in Russia?

So we could have watched 60 minutes because it wasn't about the pain of trumps deportation.  God, I wish Canada would let us in. I also read that because this is global, Canada already had it and ran it. Damn, I love you, Canada.

But I did enjoy that fun game as a wonderful diversion from life.

Give it a go.

One more fun thing for me is Kathleen Madigan

I listen to her podcast. I watch all her specials.I LOVE comics. Back in the late 80s /90s there was a show that showcased comics weekly. Good ones. We recorded it, yep, on VHS.

When we moved, we finally tossed them. We no longer had a VCR so not like we could watch them again.   I saw Kathleen in a tile on YouTube so I had to check it out. A comedian named Bret something was was interviewing her. I don't care for this comedian, Bret, he does shows without his shirt on. He's heavy too. It's not a good look, and I don't find him funny.

But the interview was funny to me.  A good ole midwestern gal from St. Louis, I believe. The stories about her parents are what kill me. They are so funny and for me relatable. 

I have a friend who is horrified by my parents comments to me over the years. I laugh and say, but can't you see the funny? She can't.  I may tell one or two tomorrow. 

SHOES

There was an article in the New York Times recently about wearing shoes in the house.  Oooh, people got really excited about his topic. 

I hate taking off my shoes when visiting someone. But it's your home, and I respect that and will do what you ask. This woman hates people to wear shoes in what she calls her pristine home.

She invited us to a holiday party where the attire was to be very formal.  She offers no slippers or booties. 

She says this shoe thing is for not bringing in disgusting things from outside into her home and floors.  Okay.

While at the party she had 2 dogs going in and out of the house. I didn't notice she or her husband cleaning the dogs feet when they came in. So I have to walk around in my bare feet on your dirty floors, and that's okay.

My feet were black by the end of the night (pristine floors?)

They make mops and floor cleaners for a reason. But again, it's her home and her rules, so I obliged.

Now, if I am going somewhere and the invite says no shoes. I bring booties.  I am not taking off my shoes hemmed to my heels, and then dragging my clothes on your dirty floor.  Short people get this.

I have booties in my car just for this reason. If I get to a person's home and I don't know that they require me to take off my shoes, I can run to my car and get the booties.  I've never had anyone mind if I wear booties because I always ask.  Personally, they should offer them if making people do this.

Well, apparently, I am in the minority. I was told that Canadians never wear shoes in the house. Okay, knowing that I will respect their rules and not wear shoes in their house. I will respect anyone's rules and do what they like.

I don't have to agree, but if you are hosting me, I should be that polite and gracious.

You can wear your filthy shoes in my home.  As long as your shoes stay on the floor, I don't care. I wash my floors more than most, so I am okay with it.

So c'mon beat me up.  Do you allow shoes in your home, and if not why? 

Cultural or hygiene or both?  If someone asked if they could keep them on and wear booties over them (like in real estate)  would that bother you?  

Sunday Bad Day

I made a huge mistake today. I went in public. I should know better, being the holidays (bah humbug) 

It was just too peoplely out there.

It's a Sunday, and I'm doing a couple of errands that I didn't accomplish as I should have on Saturday.

Rick wanted Ruebens. He is on a Reuben kick.  

So my stops were as follows:

1. Walgreens pick up Rx and stye medicine (yep, got a stye)

2. Publix for corned beef 

3. UPS Store to return an item

I go to Walgreens and get Rick's Rx and stye medicine for me.

Pleasant enough. I see an item that is really cute of a Santa Mug with hot chocolate inside and a Xmas coffee all wrapped rather festively.  I grabbed that in case someone drops by for a quick little gift.  Sometimes the trump neighbor gives us a sweet treat at Xmas, but since I was the only person without a trump flag in the yard, she may not stop by this year. :-)

I then head to Publix (grocery store) I don't shop here much because the prices are higher, but it's close, and they carry Boar's Head luncheon meat.  It's gluten-free, unlike most luncheon meats, so I buy that only. Besides, it's far better than most.  And why is there wheat, barley, or rye in my luncheon meat?  I digress...

I was in line for 18 minutes. I was looking at my phone.  I am not a patient person. The woman who was being served said to me when the clerk turned around, "what is taking him so long?"  I shrugged. 

Now, being the bitch I am today, I was thinking, "Well he's a mouth breather who doesn't understand that he has a line and to hurry the hell up."

There was only one person helping customers. There were 2 others back there just talking and not helping customers.  

Finally, we moved up 1 person.  The woman gives her order, and we all wait.  The man behind me got closer.  I turned and said, "Sir, I am going to turn around, and I don't wish to hit you with my cart."  

He moved back and said, "Leaving, huh?  Gee, a NY'er with no patience, imagine that?  

He laughs. I boil inside, but smile outwardly.

oooooh, I was now annoyed. But I kept my mouth shut and my Peggy Face on. I smiled and said, "I'm not a NY'er, but yes, I am impatient, you are correct."

I got my cart away and then, smiling, I said to him, "The grocery store across the street has the same thing, and I bet I can leave here, drive across the street, get my items, and leave before you get to order."  

He laughed and said, "Ya think?"  I said I did and think I'm gonna try.

I wished him a very Happy Holiday, and got in my car and mumbled to no one, Bite Me Mister.

Every time I wear the sweatshirt below I get grief around here. It's my favorite sweatshirt. It's huge and big and warm.  These southerners hate everyone unless you are missing a tooth, love trump, and are basically mentally challenged.  (told you I was a bitch today)

So I go across the street.  I drop off my UPS package at the UPS Store next to the grocery store.  I went into the grocery store deli and stood in line. There were 3 employees helping people.  I got my corn beef. Walked out to my car, and guess who was walking in?  

Yep, that MF'er who said I was an inpatient New Yorker.  

I smiled at him and said, "Hey, what'd I tell you, you inpatient New Yorker" 

Thankfully, he laughed and said, "Touché." 

I wished him a Merry Xmas.

Why does everyone think I'm from NY?  My whole life.  I've never lived there in that state. Worked there but never lived there.

One can wear a sweatshirt of their favorite team and not be from there. 

Hell, I have a Maple Leafs jersey, and I'm not from Toronto or a big hockey fan. Last time I picked some items up from the floor that a very large woman in a riding grocery cart knocked over with her ample hips.  She never thanked me, just said, "For a NYer you're really nice."  She then just went down the aisle.  Well, I may be nice but you aren't, but one can't say that in a civilized world. I say a lot in my head boy.

But down here in the county I live in, you hear banjos.  (not Raleigh) 

So most are not highly educated. But things are changing here rapidly. Lots of "foreigners moving here."  A 'burb near me called Clayton is mostly folks from NY, Long Island, upstate, Bronx, etc.  Running from the snow.  The more the merrier for me. They are turning this place purple 😁

So that my blogger friends was my bitchy Sunday.  

I get a shot in my shoulder on Monday, so I won't be typing.

I'm eager to be free from pain. My doctor isn't doing it he's on vacation so his PA is.  Fingers crossed he's as good. 

Below was my day in pictures- 

This is the sweatshirt that gets me in trouble every time I wear it.  Will I stop? Nope. 

This, my friend, is the difference between normal bread and gluten-free bread.  It's 3x the price and far smaller. I wanted a salami and provolone sandwich. You know, like a good Italian American Gal.  The salami was bigger than the bread, so I folded it. It still hung over the bread. I cut the provolone to a 1/4 piece and put that on, and it fit the bread. 

Boy, was I stuffed. 😋

I've been hacked

 I received an email from a blogger. I tried to open it and it did nothing.

Then I find out everyone on my contact list received this from me.

If you are in my email contacts list, please - 

 DO NOT OPEN IT -I DID NOT SEND IT.

I'm sorry for this royal pain in the ass. Let's all blame Bill where it came from 😁

NyQuil

 I took Nyquil Wednesday night because I knew this was going to be a night I'd never sleep. I'm tired of not sleeping for 24 hrs. 

So Nyquil was my drug of choice. If I had ice cream, I told Rick that Nyquil with a scoop of ice cream could kill 2 addictions at once. A Nyquil float. :-)

He just shakes his head at me. But c'mon, good idea here.

It did the trick. I slept for 12 hrs. Boy oh boy, did that feel good. I mean, really good. Rick said I never moved; each time he'd look in on me, I was in the same spot. 

I had to pee, or I'd never have gotten up. When I saw the time I was shocked!  

I grabbed clothes and ran out to the living room.  

Why did you let me sleep like that? It's almost time for your 3 o'clock nap?

He laughed and said, "What is the emergency? Why do you have to be out of bed?  I did not burn the house down. I did leave the lights on in the hall bath, but I caught it. So all is good, Margaret."  

I lost my whole Thursday, but boy, do I feel good.

A couple of topics today - 

**Did you see where the transportation secretary wants a dress code for airline travel?

Everyone has their panties in a twist about this.

I agree with him, which is odd. I'm not saying you have to fly like a non-rev had to in the 80s and 90s. I'm saying you should not wear your PJs, slippers, half shirts, and shorts that I can see your ass in, or if pubic hair were a thing, I'd see that too.

Yes, I grew up flying in dress clothes. To fly free while working for an airline, I had to be in business clothes. To me, while it sucked, that was a small sacrifice to fly first class and free to any destination in the world. Rick asked once if they wouldn't let me board. Hell yeah, they wouldn't.  It was strictly enforced. A ticket or gate agent or for that matter, a flight crew member could remove you from the flight. I've seen it done.

I went to Jamaica in a skirt, blazer, blouse, nylons, heels and stood in line for customs.  I was sweating!!  Rick said, "no one else is dressed like this."  

My retort was, "Ask them how much they paid to get here."  

To me a small sacrifice to fly free and in first.

So no need for nylons. And yes, that was a big thing in the 80s and early 90s. Must have nylons on.  Weird eh? Thank goodness that's over.

If I could go to the West Coast to visit family, I'd wear a clown suit if it were free.

But I digress. I don't know how they can implement such a thing, but I wish they would and could. I also wish people had pride in their appearance enough to dress for the event.  

Do you know I was upgraded because of my clothing?  I no longer fly free. I no longer have friends at the ticket counter of any airline.  I just checked in at the gate.  She asked if I was traveling alone. I said yes. Then I wondered why.  She smiled and said, "Just wanted to be sure." I wanted to ask, "Sure of what exactly?" 

But I let it go.  When they got to announcing they were about to board, they called my name to come to the counter. I did. The woman handed me a new boarding pass and said, "We've upgraded you."  I was thrilled and thanked her again and again. It was a 4 hr flight, and damn it would be nice to be in a big ole seat where I could fold my legs and sit indian style. 

I thanked her again and headed for the gateway. As I was walking, the pilot who was talking to the women at the gate counter came up to me and said "know why you were upgraded?"  

I told him I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I was thrilled.

He said, "Have you ever worked for an airline?"

I said I sure did, and an airline's GDS. He said I figured.

Is it written somewhere on me?

He was so nice, he said, "No, you are dressed well, and we don't see that anymore. The gate agent pointed you out and said, I wish more would do that. So she upgraded you when an opening became available.

WOW was my response. 

Now, look, I was not in business clothes. To me, just regular street clothes.

I was wearing a pair of black jeans, a tank top, a black and white tweed blazer, boots, and jewelry. Hardly dressed up. But my hoo-aah wasn't showing, or were my boobs. (ok, a bit of cleavage with a tank top by c'mon I have cleavage if wearing a turtle neck)

So dressing well does help. Don't think for a minute they don't notice every inch of you!

**To Ro, who used to blog. She lives near me so I get to see her a bit.

She mailed me the funniest Thanksgiving card.  In it was an article about wearing underwear to bed. She told me this was a great blog topic. Really?

She makes me laugh. I read the article. So I will make this a blog question.

Do you think you should wear underwear to sleep in?

Yes

No

Sometimes.

I'm in the do whatever the hell you want to do.

I prefer sleeping in my birthday suit. I don't get dressing up for bed. But everyone has their own thing. I don't care what you do. Sleep in a tux for all I care.

Do you wear underwear to bed?

Someone stated in the article - What if your house is on fire and you're not wearing any panties. I laughed at this one. Yee-haw said the firemen. 

Running

 This came up on my phone yesterday.

Note the running man at the bottom left. 

He says it's poor running conditions.
What are optimal running conditions?
Unless I'm being chased, I, along with "the girls," aren't running anywhere!

Batting My Lashes at You

I had a post queued up to post on Friday morning.

Late last night, I had the realization that some may clutch their pearls again since it was a tough subject. So I scratched that.

This has been a bit of my week.

1. My therapist told me that I joke too much. I think I need a new therapist.

He also told me to start to focus on me. Easier sad than done but I'm doing my homework.

2. Rick and I remembered a show we loved in Seattle. It was like SNL on Saturday nights at 11:30, and they showed SNL right after it.  

We even got tickets to see the show live and sit in the audience. One of our favorite skits, and there were many, was the drive-through Mammograms. 

It caught us so off guard that we laughed like crazy.  Pull up in your car, pull up your blouse, they give you the once over with their eyes only and would say, "Gee, these look good - closer, yeah, okay, you're on your way - NEXT." 

I don't know why, but it cracked us up.  Hey, I'd do it, a helluva lot better than being squished like a pancake!  We also found out that Joel McHale was on that show and was a writer while we were there. So apparently we saw him, but he wasn't "Joel McHale" then.

3. I have made more warm-weather foods and crockpot meals this week. It is brutally cold for us southerners. 13 degrees tonight. My favorites of the week were Zuppa Toscano and Beef Stew.

Now I want a week off from cooking. Thank God for leftovers and a man who will eat them!!

A while back, as you recall, they had me do 6 months of chemo with high dosage of steroids for the mass on my retina named Betty.  After those months of chemo, my hair on my head grew back, but my eyelashes didn't. 

I swear I've only got 5 lashes on each eye.  It really bothers me.  It's stupid and vain how much it bothers me and that bothers me.  (see therapist)

Anyways -

The last 3 years have been all about Rick. I have not gotten myself anything in 3 years nor have I done anything for just me in 3 yrs. If it's a day out, I think about whether Rick can walk there. Can we do this?   

So the ole therapist told me to work on myself. Be selfish without guilt.  

I was raised with Italian Catholic Guilt. For those who don't know, it's neck and neck with Jewish Mom's Guilt. Selfish is not easy for me, but I'm doing my homework. I giggled today when I did something because it felt naughty. No guilt, just all about me. 

So selfish Peg did something just for her. I got eyelashes.  No, not extensions.  I did do that many, many years ago when it became all the rage.  They were falling onto my cheekbones as I drove home. I laughed and realized this is not for me. BUT I had eyelashes then. Now it's a different story.

I've had a gift card to Ulta for a very long time. I love Ulta and Sephora and stores like that. I could spend hours there. So I did just that.

I made an appointment at their Beauty Bar and was taught how to put on eyelashes. Fake Eyelashes.  

She brought out all these big ole Cardi B eyelashes, and I would laugh and shake my head.  Nope.  I said, "Look, I'm a few months shy of 70.  I want to look the best I can, but I don't wish to look like I'm 25.  Nothing obviously fake. Just to fill in my bald spots."

So this young thing with the most perfect porcelain skin brought me back some eyelashes that I could live with. I chose the last ones she brought me. She did her tutorial, and I pray I can do this again.

You all know I don't take pictures of myself. I don't like the old face, but I did take a selfie...my 2nd one, you guys. You can see my eyelashes that she gave me.  I think we chose wisely. 

This is so not an everyday thing.  I don't need them to run to Walmart or scrub my toilets.  But when I am getting dressed up to go somewhere, I know I'll feel better with these.  

Rick asked why I feel so guilty about wearing them.  I don't have an answer to that, but a very interesting question.  He said you wouldn't feel bad if you had to wear a hairpiece or wig after you lost your hair, would you?  

He's right, I wouldn't. Ah, screw it.

With that attitude and attempting to do more for myself, I'm wearing them when I want and to hell with what anyone thinks. If nothing else the ole therapist will be very happy with me. Hey, I may wear them next visit. 

They don't look too fake, do they? 

Jury Duty.

I have always wanted to be on a jury. Hell, I watch enough crime shows that I know I'd be that pain in the ass on the jury who is the holdout.  
Everyone would hate me. 

Rick had to call a number the night before to see if he still had to show up. He did indeed.

I asked," What time do you think you'll need to leave to be there on time?"

It was down in the sticks in Smithfield, NC.  Yes, you hear banjos.

He responded with, "I'll be up by 7:30a a.m., and I should leave at about 8:15 a.m." 

I, the one who never sleeps, was finally getting tired.  At 7am Monday morning, I thought, Oooh, I can sleep now.

So I opened the bedroom door and woke Rick up 30 minutes earlier than he hoped.  I told him I was going to sleep - he's on his own.  Don't miss this or you'll be fined.  I then proceeded to pass out!  (for a whole 90 minutes)

When I awoke, he was gone.  I had put all the things he needed by the door. His keys, his wallet (which was on the coffee table for some reason) his walking cane, and the form he was mailed to bring in. I was shocked to see that he took his cane. I just knew there would be lots of steps and walking before 1/2 the day is over, he will be in pain. So I suggested the cane. He poo-poo'd me, but I saw he took it. A small victory. 

When he finally got home, he was in a bit of pain. He thanked me for suggesting the cane. But this new Rick doesn't even think of this. I am not that fond of this new Rick. Post Stroke Rick is 180 degree different from the OG. But I digress.

He texts me throughout this event. At 11:45, he texted that he was hungry. I know, I know, he texts, you were right, I should have packed a sandwich. He watched others eat the lunches they brought.  No, it didn't say to bring lunch on the paperwork; I just thought he would want and need it. He did. 

I texted him that I hoped they wouldn't do their government-issued lunch in 15 minutes, or you all will be just sitting there for another hour. He text back to me, "OH NO, you're right."  

When they finally moved them, he said it was like a cattle call. Upstairs, downstairs, herding them all over the place. One of the men in the group actually Moo'd.  I thought that was funny, as did many of them, Rick said.

After they arrived in their new room, one by one, they were called into another.

They asked Rick if he owns a gun? No. 

Has he ever owned guns? Yes.

They asked when. He used to hunt when he was younger.

The line of questioning was about owning guns. He knew then he would be omitted. And he was  - quickly. It was asked of everyone if they were opposed to owning guns, and one woman's hand shot up quickly. She was let go immediately. HA. That would have been me. Never owned one, never have needed one, and don't see why anyone NEEDS one. There are stores for food so I don't hunt.  I am a strong believer in the theory: If you have one, you'll use it.  So I have no good reason to have one. 

I'd be in prison if I did. LOL

Apparently, the person on trial was a white redneck looking man, probably around 40. (yes, redneck is judgmental, but it gives you a picture of what kind of person this was - or I could say a skinny, uneducated, missing-tooth looking Trumpster, which was how he was described to me.)

This man was a felon who was stopped by the cops, and they found a gun in his trunk. A felon is not allowed to own/carry a weapon.

So after a long 6 hours, Rick was sent packing.  He was, of course, bummed. He wanted to hear about the allegations, but he didn't want to stick around. He was hungry and tired. So he left and earned his $12.

$12 is pitiful. You ask people to take a day off work, and you reimburse them with $12?  Okay, Rick was not taking off work, but $12? So, for a retired person, this is okay. Not enough to cover the cost of gas, but it's okay. 

When he showed me the money, I told him he could get that kidney he wanted now. We both just laughed because, really, it's pitiful. Perhaps they need a cost-of-living increase? Can you buy anything in America for $12? 

A coffee, I suppose.

That was the exciting experience of being called to Jury Duty.

He has been called 3 x and never gets on the jury.

I have never been called, and I so want to be on a jury. Although I can see why they wouldn't pick me for this one. 

This all reminded me of the time my father was asked to be on a jury.  He was a self-employed master plumber.  He was not happy about losing work. It was a huge murder case in our hometown. He knew this trial would go on and on. (It did) When they asked my father a question about this woman, my father said, and I quote, "She is a murderer, and she should rot in hell for what she did."

Well, that will get you off the jury quickly. And it did. He stated they couldn't get him outta there fast enough. That makes me laugh for some reason. So like my father.

He came home and told us all what had transpired. I asked if he did it on purpose. He said yes because he knew they'd let him go, but he also felt that way. She is the murderer.

Just as I am thinking of this incident, what do I hear on my car radio? The deadline podcast of said murderer, my father wanted to rot in hell.

Marjorie Diehl.  I chuckled because what are the chances of that?

All in the same day. 

I know if you are American, you have probably seen this story on 48 hrs/Dateline/20/20, and the news. It was always called the pizza bomber. It's horrible what she did to innocent people.

So that is as close to me getting to be on a jury as I'll get, I suppose.

SNOW DAY

Here in the southern US we've had snow.

We got a snow day.

How is that different from any retirement day. Oh, it's not.

I took this pic through my back door at 6am.  Tons of snow huh?

 

This is what I grew up with.

So I will have some hot cocoa and watch the Today Show while the south freaks out. Enjoy your snow day.

Wegmans and Crowds

I made the enormous mistake of going to Wegman's yesterday.

If you are not aware, Wegman's is the best grocery store in the U.S.

Think Whole Foods meets affordable, and throw in Trader Joe's, and then high-quality produce and products at a reasonable price. Well, as reasonable as we have these days under tariffs and the big orange peckerhead.

I had the stupid idea that the grocery store would be slower than normal since everyone is in a food coma or driving/flying home.

Oh, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Traffic getting there was heavy. 

Okay, I'm on the highway, so maybe it's just the Thanksgiving rush home.

Apparently not. All going to Wegmans I swear.

By the time I got a parking space, it was pouring down rain.  I saw that Rick had a baseball cap on the passenger seat, so I grabbed it and walked to the entrance. I was drenched by the time I got inside.  

I grabbed a cart, and a man jumped in front of me and grabbed a cart, making me have to stand there and wait for him or run him over. I seriously contemplated running him over, but I didn't feel like being arrested.

There was no meandering. The aisles, which are so wide, were cramped.  I needed some frozen spinach, so I had to climb. I opened the door to the frozen food and had to step on the ledge because the spinach was on the top shelf.  An employee walked by and said, "Can I help you, ma'am?"  

By this time, I had them in my hand, and I jumped down, smiled, and said, "No, but thank you."  Ooooh, he gave me a look.

Several aisles later, I was attempting to get a couple of tomato pastes on the top shelf and pushed back a bit.  I looked around.  I saw a tall man and asked him if he could reach those for me. He said I can reach them and walked away.

Funny.

I don't think I appreciated it when I was young, and men fell all over me or followed me around a store.  

I am now at an age where I am invisible, and sometimes it sucks.

So just as I put my foot on the bottom shelf, the same damn man came by and said, "Ma'am, please don't climb on that," as he reached for my tomato paste.  

As he does this, I suggest he move those cans left to the front for other shorties so they don't climb.

I got the look. But he did it. 

Damn, is that guy following me?

Then I went to the gluten-free aisle for some soup and bagels.

This time I had to get on the floor.

I got on the floor, reached back for the bagels, and when I got my head out of the shelfing, I realized  - shit, now I have to get up.

So there I am in aisle 27 laughing while on the floor.  

I grabbed the bottom shelf and prayed it would hold me as I used it to help me push myself up. Whew!  It held.  But where the hell was that man now?  

But I do amuse myself.

What should have been a quick trip to Wegman's ended up being a very long time of shopping.  I was finally free, and as I was walking in the rain to my car, I saw a woman just push her cart, and it missed the entire covered shopping cart container.

I mutter some choice words.  Why are people so messy with their carts? 

Yes, some people are paid to go fetch them. 

But you don't need to throw them all about the parking lot for Pete's sake.  

Anyway, after I empty my cart, I walk it back to the little 'hut' for your carts.  I put mine inside the one put in last. I had a smaller cart, and those on the right were all the small ones.  

The other side was a mess. I grabbed the cart that the woman threw, and I put it in the large cart side and straightened them all out.  

I turned around to go to my car, and this gorgeous man was standing there watching me and smiling.   He said, "So you are one of those." 

"So I've been told, I tell him."

He laughed and said, "I have a daughter like you. I didn't bother you, I just let you do what you NEEDED to do."  

He wouldn't stop smiling or perhaps laughing at me. 

I said, "Well, thanks.  Have a great day!  It's crazy in there, you've been warned."

He looks shocked. 

"Really?  I thought it'd be dead today."  

"Well, great minds think alike; I did as well." 

In other great news.

Campbell's Soup has made some soups gluten-free.

I made a casserole last week that Rick likes, and I used a can of Campbell's tomato soup. I just didn't eat any of it. 

But I saw Cream of Chicken and Cream of Mushroom at Wegmans, and I grabbed several.  I will normally make Cream of Mushroom soup from scratch, but seriously, I'm an old broad, I don't wanna. (Did you hear that whine?)

So I'm off to make a casserole like a good 1960s Midwest housewife. 

🤞 hoping this turns out. It's cold, and he wanted comfort food.

It's cold, and I want to be on a sunny, warm beach. 

We are different.