Since my last post went over like a lead balloon...

...I will post again.

Just for me.

No longer for comments.

Those days are gone.

Soooo...

I am taking this week off of work (of which I do not reveal what I do for anonymity reasons...yeah, yeah, I'm a very important person in the witness protection program and can't have my identity revealed).

While lazing around the house yesterday with a cold and cough, and quite frankly enjoying doing absolutely nothing, I tuned into the Ellen Degeneres show.

She begins the show with a monologue, and then breaks into dance.

Wow, how great is that?

I turned to my husband (who is also on holiday from his highly confidential job, and sat very patiently with me while I hackingly coughed my way through the day) and said...

"What could be better, I mean really, than to have your own talk show, where you can get up and dance each and every day, with an audience cheering you on, and your own D.J.?"

Of course my husband turned back toward me and said, "why don't you blog about it?"

Isn't that cute? How sweet,huh?

And in that moment it hit me...

this guy has figured out how to get me off his back!

Now that I think about it, this isn't the first time he has gently suggested I go blog about some inane topic.

And all this time I thought he was supporting me in this endeavor, while praising my great writing talents (coincidentally, especially when they are posts about him).

So there you go. After two years of digging into the depths of my brain, cranking out stories from my past and present, the truth is revealed...

Turns out, blogging has saved my marriage. When my husband was frustrated with me, he told me to blog.

When he could no longer listen to my words (I know, hard to imagine), he told me to blog.

When I couldn't stop talking about the same thing over and over, he told me to blog.

Turns out...the act of blogging is more than just a place to express oneself...

Turns out...



Blogging is a marital aide. (you should pardon my expression).

Who needs Dr. Phil when you've got blogging...

Drove my Chevy to the Levy

inspired by Val

It's funny how all of your feminist ideals get thrown right out the window when staring into the eyes of a great big policeman.

Especially when you're 16. Especially when you have just gotten your license a few weeks prior.

There I was, newly licensed, in my brother's "kelly green" '69 Camaro. I had four other girls in the car with me. For those of you who know Los Angeles, you will recognize the exact off-ramp of the 405 Freeway I'm about to describe. The exit is Mulholland. As you pull off the freeway, there are a couple of lanes...you can go left from the left and right from the right lane...makes sense, right?

Sitting in the left lane with my four friends all screaming different things at me..."go left, no, go right, no left, no right"...I finally had to choose. Unfortunately, the last thing I heard was "GO RIGHT!"...and so, I did.

OOOPS! I was in the LEFT turn lane.

And there it was. The thing we fear most. The thing a brand new 16 year old driver fears most. Those lights, the siren. I knew I was "dead".

I pulled over, in my brother's kelly green Camaro. The Camaro that, in this year of 1971, had a huge peace sign in the back window. Not to mention the crap all over the car...a rolling trash can as it were.

The nice, rather large policeman came over to my car, motioning to roll down the window. I began to roll it down, and then it happened.

I burst into tears. Uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop.

The great big policeman asked me a few questions. I answered through my tears. My girlfriends were as still as statues. And then the miracle happened.

He asked me to promise I would never do it again. Hell yeah officer

Of course it was more like “y-y-y-es officer”.

“O.K.” he so generously said. “Then go, and don’t ever do anything like this again”.

And you know what? I never did. Until I was 34, and pregnant with my youngest. I was nabbed doing 40 in a 30 zone. And hormonal. And figured, hey those tears worked oh so many years ago, why not now, right?

So, bring on the tears! Only, this guy? Wasn’t buyin’.

Crap…out came the ticket book…I was doomed to “comedy” traffic school. (which, by the way…NOT funny)

I have never sped down that street again.

Somehow, the picture of a flashing 52 year old with tears streaming down her face, just isn't quite the same as a cute, perky, scared out of her wits 16 year old.

Maybe I'll soon be able to play the "poor old senior" card.

Hey, you do what you can.

Does this make my butt look big?

AWWWWW...the holidays...

CAKE CANDY COOKIES...

EVERYWHERE

And so here is what I am acutely aware of this holiday season...

My derier enters the room about 5 minutes after I do.

Yep...everything I eat goes straight to you-know-where. The cake, candy, and cookies do not pass GO. They make a bee-line for my (in the words of Tyra Banks) "big fat ass".

Now, really, is this such a bad thing? Let's face it...it's worked well for J Lo hasn't it? Kim Kardashian had a whole show planned around her big booty airing on the scholarly "E" network.

So why shouldn't it work for a menopausal, post mid-life, Jewish woman, right?

In fact, I say, a big rear is like wrinkles...they are earned.

With hard work.

Determination.

Getting rid of wrinkles has never made sense to me. Have you seen botoxed women? Their foreheads literally do not move. What happened to aging gracefully? As far as I'm concerned, each little line and wrinkle is a like a road map.

A map that carefully lays out where you have been. The heartaches, the triumphs, the wins and losses, the births and deaths that have boosted up or torn out your heart.

All of these expressed in the little lines that run through our faces.

Wrinkles really are a beautiful thing. They are wisdom, laughter and tears all rolled into one.

And so, I say it's time we re-think the rear end.
It's time to find it's beauty, wisdom, and true meaning.
It's time to stand up and let the big rear be counted.

We must appreciate a large tush for what it really is...

it is a woman's expression of having lived a "full" life.

And so, the next time you realize yours is entering 5 minutes behind you...remember,

it is merely a testament to...

a lifetime of talent, beauty, inner strength, and wisdom.

Enchanted Memories

When I was a little girl, I went to Disneyland twice each summer.

Yep, you read that right...TWICE each and every summer.

Why, you ask? Well, my father, an elementary school teacher, needed to supplement his income. So, he and a fellow teacher, borrowed money, worked hard, and opened a well-respected summer day camp in L.A.

The camp ran two sessions each summer. And each session consisted of various field trips...Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, Mattel Toys, and Helms Bakery, to name a few.

This was how I spent each summer, until I turned 10...the year my father died. The next summer, my mother would run the camp with my dad's partner, one last time.

I was reminded of all that last weekend when I went to see the latest Disney blockbuster..."Enchanted".

It is a tribute to all things Disney...and they were not afraid to make fun of themselves. (Of course, putting McDreamy in the staring role, didn't exactly hurt).

Isn't it strange how a movie can take you into the hidden corners of your mind...corners that have gone unnoticed for years.

Movies, just like music, have a way of transporting us to another time, place, or emotion that has gone unexplored for years.

Maybe that's exactly why we go to movies. To relive long lost feelings. To escape to another time and place.

As the movie Enchanted moved along, I found myself giggling like a little girl...enjoying every aspect of this movie. I felt slightly silly. Until I realized that an entire audience was enjoying it just as much as I was. I wasn't the only one finding their way back to a simpler moment in time.

Maybe it's that Disney is a constant in our lives. Always there, always dependable. Disneyland is, after all, the happiest place on earth. Disney characters find their way to the hearts of generation after generation.

Even when everything else changes or falls apart, Disney is always there.

I guess we need to be able to escape to those corners.
We need constants.
We need the things that connect us to the warm, safe places that exist in our hearts and minds.

Even if it's just for a mere 90 minutes.

A little sappy...maybe...but, hey...

Thanks Disney...

for connecting me to memories of my past, and for memories yet to come.