DISPLAYING MY PRIVATE PLACES

Perhaps a regional custom, my mother always used to give newcomers a tour of our home as if we lived in Buckingham Palace. She seemed proud, I was embarrassed. I pointed out that others didn't automatically do it. -- Unless of course their house was new, or had recently undergone renovations.

"When you have nice things you want to show them off," she replied.

I told her that seemed rather braggy to me.

"They WANT to see what you have!" she insisted. "People are curious."

Personally, I'd rather they remain curious and use their imaginations. I've never liked others coming into my private space.

Back when my father worked at his high-paying job, my parents held a number of cocktail parties. I've always felt that people who love to entertain do it mostly to flaunt what they have. I know that was true in my former neighborhood.

My mother, and later my step-mother, BOTH maintained our home like a public museum. Everything always had to look perfect, living comfortably was next to impossible! My step-mom wouldn't even allow a garbage can to be visible! Guests often remarked that our house looked like a model home where no one lived.

I complained to my stepmother that I was tired of living in a showcase, I'd rather have comfort!

"You sound so silly it isn't even worth a reply," was her exact response!

Growing up, my drawers and closet had to be tidy and organized at all times. I was a typical kid, I loved to collect rocks and shells, etc.. Every time I tried to keep any in my drawers, my mother threw them out! "No one can see them in there!" I hollered.

She scolded, that one of our guests, even the wife of Dad's boss, might peek inside out of curiosity and wouldn't I be embarrassed!

Exasperated, I repeated this to our next door neighbor, a burly middle-aged man named George.

"You see ANY of those people doing THAT, kick them out of your house!" he exclaimed. "THAT IS YOUR PRIVATE SPACE! They have no right to violate that!"

I was stunned! This was revelation! I told my mother exactly what George said.

She gnashed her teeth. (I remember it clearly!) Shortly after, she complained to Dad that she felt uneasy around George. She didn't trust him. My father ordered George to stay away from us because he made Mom uncomfortable. I felt responsible! Up until then, George had been a close friend to our family.

Now that I'm old and alone, I'm free to enjoy my home exactly the way I want it! Nobody gets a tour. A few have actually hinted, I ignored them. My space is for my pleasure, not theirs!

When my close friend Margaret visited, she confessed to not being a great housekeeper, either. "I'd rather spend what little time I have left on the planet enjoying myself," she admitted. "I never allow anyone upstairs unless they're fixing something." 
 
I laughed and replied, "You too!" It's no wonder we were such great friends!

AND THEN CAME BARBIE

Contrary to what most people think, I never played with dolls as a small child. I was more into leeches and bugs. To my parents credit, they let me have toy guns and tanks. In fact when I was 6, my father bought me a realistic looking machine gun. That thing was really loud when I swung the crank. I also had a collection of little plastic soldiers who rode into battle on my plastic dinosaurs.

I did own an extensive doll collection which I never touched. However, when I returned home from school, their hair and outfits would all be different. I don't understand why my mother just didn't buy them for herself and say she was a collector! Lots of men do that with model trains and airplanes.

Shortly before I turned 9, an amazing new doll hit the scene, one different from any on the market. She actually had breasts, her name was Barbie! Plus she came with an assortment of beautiful clothes just like a movie star. Barbie struck like a blazing comet! My mother and I both were spellbound. Mommy wasn't getting this one!!! Soon I had multiple Barbies, so the problem was solved.

My father on the other hand, didn't condone Barbie. He felt since dolls are made for children, they should look like children, not 30 year old chorus girls! The original Barbie did have a rather hard, almost vampiric face. She appeared too sophisticated and mature for the teenage fashion model she was supposed to be.

Of course Barbie's origins were less than respectable. She was created in Germany as a sex toy for men. In other words, she was a little plastic prostitute!

Soon came the Barbie imitators! Most of these dolls had softer faces and longer, prettier hair. As a bonus, they could fit into all of Barbie's glamorous attire. I preferred them! Barbie was always Barbie, but these could be anyone I wanted. There was Adeline, Miranda, Juliana, & Letitia. The first 2 were angelic outer space maidens, Juliana was a movie star, and Letitia was a socialite. They joined the ranks among my Barbies.

Being a cheeky little kid, I took my mother's red nail polish and painted nipples on all their breasts. A neighbor noticed the red nipples under their sheer tops. When he thought no one was looking, I watched him peek under their skirts. -- I'm sure he was disappointed!

My mother learned of a shop that sold one-of-a-kind Barbie clothes in a municipality 2 hours away from us. Of course we had to go. I remember the enormous back room and all the women busy on sewing machines. However, we bought nothing. Mom got sticker shock!!! Those little clothes cost just as much as mine, and in many cases even more!

As I reached my teens, I lost interest in dolls again. By this time, Barbie was being labeled a poor role model by many. It seemed to me that she was being stigmatized because she was beautiful. After all, Barbie had evolved beyond teen fashion model. Now she was a doctor, lawyer, singer, even an astronaut! She could do anything and look great doing it! I saw her as a positive role model. Barbie actually cared about her appearance and it showed. We could use a lot more of that today!

I saw a poster on Facebook that read: "Most girls want a big closet, but I want a big library." Why must we choose??? WHY NOT BOTH!!!

A TRUE FEMME FATALE

My friend Margaret led the most interesting and eventful existence of anyone I have ever known. The LIFETIME channel could make at least 7 TV movies based on her alone. Two men killed themselves because they couldn't have her. I'm not speaking figuratively, I mean literally dirt-nap dead!

We had just finished watching a movie about a stalker when Margaret announced she had been shot by a former love. It happened decades ago.

"Please don't spring a new ex-husband on me!" I expostulated.

"No, we just dated. I broke up with him and he didn't handle it well." She sighed.

My curiosity had been aroused. "Don't stop there, give me details," I urged.

"I've never even told my daughter about this. Carly was just a baby," Margaret reluctantly continued. "This happened back when I was taking some night classes. Roger showed up in the parking lot just as I was getting ready to drive home. My car door opened and he jumped into the passenger side with a shotgun and a briefcase."

"That must have been terrifying!" I interjected.

"He ordered me to drive home and pick-up Carly. That's when I threw my car keys out the window! We sat in the car and argued for a long time. I tried to reason with Roger. Meanwhile, my mother phoned Jim, my current boyfriend, she was concerned because I was late. Jim later became my husband."

"You were smart to toss the car keys," I said.

"When I saw Jim, I jumped out of the car and stood next to him. Crazy Roger fired his shotgun at Jim, but hit me instead. When he saw me on the pavement vomiting blood, he killed himself with his shotgun. Police later found rope and duct tape in his briefcase."

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I can picture it all so vividly.

Several years later, during another visit, Margaret mentioned a boyfriend whom she planned to drop after returning home. "He stated he loved me on our very 1st date and seriously proposed marriage."

I had a similar experience myself. I did not feel likewise, so I understood Margaret's feelings. "You know what they say about older men who are anxious to marry," I reminded, "they're looking for either a nurse or a purse."

"Ethan doesn't seem to have a lot. Plus he's so eager and needy," Margaret continued. "He claimed his last wife never slept with him. Can you imagine?"

"Maybe she didn't like the way he looked naked," I replied.

Later, the phone rang just as we said "Good Night". Margaret was already half-way down the stairs. "Do you always get calls this late?" she inquired.

"Only wrong numbers!" I replied as I answered the phone. "Guess who? Margaret, it's your boyfriend."

"I told Ethan only to call in an emergency." She shook her head in disgust as I handed her the receiver. They talked for what seemed like 40 minutes. "He was lonely for the sound of my voice! The guy's so clingy. I've got to end this soon," Margaret declared.

A month later, Margaret phoned me from Orlando. She was quite upset. "Ethan commit suicide!" she exclaimed. "It's all my fault! I wasn't kind when we broke up. I really let him have it! I should have been more compassionate."

"The man was unstable," I pointed out. "It was just a matter of time, it would have happened eventually no matter what. I tried to assure her it was not her fault!

"You weren't there!" her voice rose. "I will always carry this guilt."

2009 Margaret passed into my history. She was an individual unlike any other! I miss the light and color she added to my life. To me, Margaret was a rare a stormy-weather friend.

NO, NO, MR. POSTMAN

Yeow! Ouch! It's starting to smart. Another postal increase goes into effect tomorrow! I can feel the pain in my wallet already. The price of everything will soon rise!

I used to be a prolific letter writer, most were handwritten. For the majority of my life, personal computers were something out of science fiction. I honestly thought we'd have flying cars before p.c.'s! Even after they became popular, none of my friends or relatives owned one.

My letters were absolutely beautiful, too! I bought scenic cards of all sizes that were blank inside until filled with my words, which often extended all the way down the back cover. As a finishing touch, I would place a lovely sticker upon back of the envelope that matched the scene or theme of the card. Plus I used pretty or unusual commemorative stamps on the front. Many recipients told me they never threw out my correspondence. All but one of these people are gone now. The double zero years will always be known as the death decade to me.

Often, I feel like a dinosaur. I'm still struggling to adjust to emails and computers. I don't tweet or text, or even know the difference between the two. And frankly, I don't care to learn. In the early 1990's I did own a word processor in attempt to start a professional writing career. It was already obsolete when I purchased it. The thing was little more than a glorified typewriter.

Back in the 90's, during my Stuart years, our neighborhood was a assigned a new mailman. He was a big, overweight fellow with a beard. Soon, we were issued a statement informing us that the mailboxes had to be relocated out by the road, or at least to a spot where the mailman wouldn't have to step out of his truck. -- If that guy was ever forced to actually do some walking, he wouldn't have been lugging around that big butt & gut!

My father attached our mailbox to the lamp post half-way down our driveway. We had an acre lot, so anyone attempting to steal our mail had to trespass on our property, unlike here!

Of course sometimes mailmen are forced to come to the door; packages are too large for the box, or a letter requires a signature. My favorite mailmen just say, "Hello" hand me my mail and leave!  It really bugs me when they try to make small talk or comment on my mail. The bearded one was a really intrusive type!

When I was going thru my ordeal in court, (it was quite a scandal in the neighborhood!) he actually had the nerve to ask me why was I getting all these letters from a lawyer and the courthouse. I didn't answer because it was none of his business! But I'm sure he got all the gory details from the neighbors. When he spotted one at a mailbox, he'd always turn off his truck to chat.

Back in the 90's, most aspiring writers still had to snail-mail a manuscript to a publisher. Every time I got a manuscript back rejected, (and this happened a lot!) the bearded one would lean on his horn. -- This made me want to go after him with a knife or a club! I would rather have my failures kept quiet. But he made sure the whole neighborhood knew!

Once, I sent my friend & neighbor, Gertrude, a birthday card with a large celebratory sticker on the back. I wanted it to be a surprise!!! -- Well the big mouth in the blue uniform told her he picked up a birthday card addressed to her from the mailbox down the street, and to expect it the next day!

Gertrude disliked this guy equally as much as I did. She resented paying someone to relocate her mailbox. As a snowbird, she told of her mailman up in Chicago who walked from house-to-house with a big pack on his back. Unfortunately, we were stuck with this sloth for a long time.

Eventually, he was transferred. Gertrude & I went to the RED LOBSTER to celebrate! Less than a year later, my father decided to put our house up for sale. We moved to Vero Beach and the decade of death began.

A FAREWELL SALUTE TO THE MAPLE BLONDIE

Recently, I celebrated my birthday. First, I treated myself to the latest horror movie in 3D. Afterward, I went to APPLEBEES for my favorite dessert of all time, the Maple Blondie, only to be informed that this piece-of-paradise-on-a-plate had been discontinued. All at once, I was disappointed, shocked, outraged, saddened and horrified. It was the main reason I liked to eat at APPLEBEES! It's their signature dessert!!!

RUBY TUESDAY'S also has a Blondie, but theirs is bone-dry and horrible!

I noticed APPLEBEES seemed to be emphasizing a healthy menu, now. Well I've got news for them, I don't go to a restaurant to eat healthy! (That's for at home.) I go to indulge! I don't treat myself to a restaurant that often. Plus no animal died in the making of a Maple Blondie!

To me, a meal is incomplete without dessert. It's my reward for eating all those awful vegetables like carrots & beets.

I've never been overweight due to my magic metabolism. I can drop weight fast just by eating yogurt or jello for dessert for a few nights rather than my usual pastries. I'm the only woman I know who can do that! I can easily fit into a tight outfit when the occasion arises. Also I work my weights when I'm trying to lose, but I'm not a fanatic about it.

I see these women with the big muscled-out arms and my reaction is ugh! Personally, I think this looks downright hideous on a female.

There is a beautiful woman in Vero Beach who is a fitness expert as well as a gifted writer. She has a column in our local newspaper. When I read it, I enjoy it. I genuinely admire this person. But at the same time, I don't want to be anything like her. Because our ideas of fun are just too different. Sweets are tantamount to poison in her mind.

There is an old saying, "To eat well, is to live well." I believe this means eating food you actually enjoy, at least every now and then. You would have to chain me to a restaurant chair and duct tape my mouth shut to prevent me from ordering dessert!

Columnist Erma Bombeck used to say, she often wondered how many women passed up the dessert tray that last night on the Titanic. -- I'm with Erma! I look forward to meeting her in the afterlife. (Yes,I'll probably drop dead due to my high triglycerides.) And when I do, I'm sure we'll both be enjoying Maple Blondies. Because heaven just won't be paradise without them.

UPDATE: I just learned some APPLEBEES still have the Maple Blondie. Sadly, the one in Vero Beach where I live does not.

THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR STRUTT'N

It's no secret that I love clothes! And if it's "OUT THERE" I'll wear it!

My favorite time to buy winter attire is after the holidays when all the stores dramatically slash prices to make way for the spring & summer line. Also I shop catalogs if I can find a big enough bargain.

Long have I held a love affair with boots, from cute ankle lengths right on up! And it pains me that I live in a state where the weather is only cool enough to wear them 3 to 5 months a year. I'd sleep in them if I could! Curse you Global Warming!!!

Among them are 2 pairs of riding style boots that I bought in Thrift Shops 25 and 30 years ago, neither is leather. Amazingly, both are still in good enough condition to wear. A couple years back, I bought a pair new and they fell apart the 3rd time I wore them. I was really pissed, I had paid full price because I loved the style!-- In my opinion, someone at a factory in China deserves a good whipping!

That reminds me, I have an over-the-knee pair with long straps in the back like cat-o'-nine tails.

Right after New Year's, I ordered a pair for a price I couldn't pass up! They're dark-gray and thigh-high! To my delight, they arrived on my birthday! They fit my legs like gloves and are just as comfortable as can be!

They are so high they dwarf even my over-the-knee pairs! And even my shortest mini skirts completely cover the tops. But they look magnificent with stirrup pants or a long sweater with opaque hose.

I can just hear a former neighbor of mine saying, "A woman your age in those, shame on you!"

I just turned 62. However, I've never let age inappropriateness stop me before. I look young for my age and I still have thighs to die for, as well as my magic metabolism. Guess you could call me the geezer-teaser.

Back in the 1970's during my blonde years, I was quite striking! Everywhere I went I was mistaken for a model. Men were too intimidated to come close. During that period I was taking frequent trips to Europe. I could walk into a restaurant in Paris or Madrid and turn every head in the room.

In 78 the Gypsy Peasant style was in vogue. This was my favorite look of all time with its sashed peasant blouse, long flowing skirt, & boots. I was in Lucerne, Switzerland all decked out in my Gypsy Peasant outfit, wearing the same chic boots all the French girls in Paris had been sporting. The 3 inch heels made me 5'9. Today, it would make me 5'10! -- Believe it or not, I actually grew an inch in my 50's!

I'll admit I'm not the most graceful woman in the world. I was coming down the long stairs into the lobby, half-way I slipped and tripped . I tumbled, bum-pity bump all the way to the bottom floor! A British couple rushed to my aid.

"Are you all right, dear!" the woman exclaimed. I assured her that I was. "It's so nice to hear another English-speaking voice," she intoned.

Of course at my age, I could break a bone! -- That's why I take calcium and dolomite and other minerals. I've done so for decades. Recently, I had a fall in a restaurant parking lot and got up without even a bruise, so I guess they work.

Whenever I buy a new pair of boots, I have a little romance with them. I'm always trying them on, or constantly going to look at and touch them. This passes after I officially wear them in public for the first time. Then I start to ogle and fantasize about other shoes.

SNAIL-MAIL KIND O' GAL

Here we are in a brand new year. I for one, am happy to be alive! I had feared we all might disappear from the surface of the earth in December of 2012. On the other hand, all the usual problems remain, plus new ones are popping up all the time.

Postage is rising again, the later part of this month. Ugh! That means more inflation, or perhaps stagflation. As a backward member of the Boomer generation I'm not into all the new technology. I still send out handwritten letters and mail Christmas cards.

In fact, the day after Christmas I bought 4 boxes of beautiful cards at half price. I'll admit it's starting to get expensive to send them. However, I still have enough holiday "FOREVER" stamps to get me thru a few more seasons, also my card list continues to get shorter.

I've got to say, last Christmas I was impressed as to how fast my packages moved thru the mail. Often, the merchandise was delivered the same week as I placed the order. Unfortunately, the postage sometimes cost as much as the item itself. -- And I always choose the least expensive rate, too!

Mail crawled back in the olden days! As a 7 yr. old, I forced my grandfather to buy an extra box of breakfast cereal so I would be able to send away for that Jiminy Cricket sippy cup with the moving eyes. I needed 2 box tops along with my dollar. Anyway, I had to wait 6 to 8 weeks for delivery, which is almost a lifetime in child years.

By the time it arrived, I had forgotten all about it! Receiving it was a big anti-climax, too. Sure the eyes moved, but the cup was an unappetizing flesh-colored pink; even Jiminy's hat! Within 6 months, the plastic cracked and my cup had to be thrown out. It wasn't even worth my dollar! And a dollar was worth a whole lot more in 1958!

But at least the shipping & postage were free! Back then, it was free on ALL orders from catalogs, as well. Plus you received a free gift from the company and some really nice items, too. This was true in many cases until I reached my 40's.

Several years ago, I ordered a book thru the mail and received an empty package. (You could actually see where it had been slashed open at the bottom!) Fortunately, the company replaced the book at no extra charge. I called the Post Office and complained to a supervisor. I asked why on earth they would deliver an obviously empty package in that condition! It should have been investigated because it left the company intact! Their response was similar to, "Yeah, it's our fault, but that doesn't make us responsible." If it hadn't been so sad, it would be laughable.

Unlike most people, I enjoy getting junk mail. It's fun to wish shop thru all the various catalogs I receive. But I really wish they would put an end to Saturday mail! It's just a nuisance. Plus every time a problem arrives via mail, it always seems to come on a Saturday. Everything is closed and I can't deal with it until Monday, but I'm left with 2 days and 2 sleepless nights to worry over it.

My family had a P.O. Box until we moved into the city limits in 1960. Always it was a treat to go pick-up the mail! I loved to ferret thru the garbage cans for unopened letters and packages. Usually there was plenty! I would bring home hand fulls of other people's junk mail. Frequently, I found packages, too! There was a doctor in town who was constantly throwing out sample medicines from pharmaceutical companies, and I mean some large boxes filled with all kinds of pills!

Of course my parents threw everything out. But it was just the thrill of the unexpected! Always I hoped to find something wonderful in one of those boxes!

After moving into town, we had an actual mailman deliver to our house. Man, we really were moving up in society!.. Although our initial mailman was rather incompetent. On several occasions I came across neighbors unopened bills blowing across our lawn. (At least I didn't have to root thru any garbage cans!) I took them to my mother, and she would steer me in the direction of the correct neighbor. Then I got to play postman.

Back then, our mail box was attached next to our door. That meant the mailman actually had to get out of his truck. During the 1990's we were forced to move our mailbox to a more convenient location for the mailman, one less so for us.

When I noticed the mailboxes in this neighborhood, I became uneasy. Anyone driving by in a car or walking down the street can help themselves to my mail without ever setting foot on my property. Anytime I place checks in the mail, I either wait until I see the mail truck, or I drive to a mailbox.

Eventually, I'll get with the times and pay all my bills online. But I intend to fight it as long as I can. I trust computers even less than I trust the Post Office. However, I know that one day soon, I'm going to be sending out electronic cards.