YADA, YADA, YAKETY YAK!

Over the summer, I encountered 2 different women who seemed eager to be my friend. However, I did NOT feel likewise about them! Both were the type who began relating their entire life’s history seconds after saying hello.

If they had just held back a bit, I might have found their conversations interesting. But it was just WAY too much information overload at one time! And worse, we weren’t having a conversation. I was just sitting and listening to their non-stop talk. They didn’t even seem to take time to breathe. In order to get a word in edgewise, I had to interrupt. And I do not like to interrupt people, but sometimes you are forced, just to get away from them.

My good friends Rose, Sue & Marie are NOTHING like this! Marie told me they were probably just really lonely.

I do NOT like lonely people! I myself am alone, however at any given moment; I can think of 10 things I want to do vs. 10 things that need doing. There’s no room for boredom or loneliness.

To be honest, I don’t like MOST people, period!

As a writer, I can spend an entire day struggling with just 1 page! Perhaps Hemingway, Dickens, Melly Nofal, or other more talented writers require few re-writes. But nothing comes natural or easily to me. I need lots and lots of re-writes!

After I think my work is finally perfect, I can rest. But the next day after a read-over, I wonder what I was thinking! This character would never react that way in this situation! Ugh, back to the top, again!

I know the creative process is uninteresting to other people. When someone at a social event asks what I’ve been up to, I don’t want to say, “Well, I spent all day yesterday working on page 47 and still couldn’t get it right.” I’m at a loss for words! So, I just say, “Nothing.”

Believe me; no one hates to socialize more than I do! Small talk bores me and most people have nothing to say that I’m interested in hearing. So, I just smile and pretend to listen while my mind is light years away in another dimension as they blather on.

Remember this, after the food is served, mouths are for eating NOT talking!!!

Never, will I forget a luncheon I attended during the last decade; I sat with 3 other women. They were about 20 years my senior. As they yammered on, they all sounded like the same person with 3 heads. And mine was about to explode from listening to them!

As a writer, my characters are often composites of several different people, similar, yet different enough to add depth and nuance. These 3 old women sounded so identical, it was downright creepy!

Recently, at a social event, I sat with a couple of age 20 somethings. Soon after seating themselves, they pulled out their texting devices. I found myself starring at the top of their heads. Yes, I thought they were rude! Apparently this is the wave of the future. But at least I was spared having to smile and pretend to be interested. Guess there’s a positive side to everything!

WOES WITH MY TOES

AND BAREFOOT FETISHES TOO!

I love going barefoot! This is Florida the laid back sunshine state where people come to play or die; usually both. It’s kind of a sacrilege NOT to go barefoot! After all we’re the land of the Barefoot Mailman. Shoes are confining!

Unfortunately, my love of going barefoot has cost me several of my toenails over the years. Darn it! It’s happened again!

As I was watching the last climactic 15 minutes of a movie, I suddenly found myself sitting in pitch darkness! I thought I’d lost electricity! But I heard the refrigerator running. Then I noticed my clock-radio was still on in the kitchen. I made a beeline for the nearest light switch. Yeoww! Ouch! Ouch! My pinky toe! It must have struck the bottom of the sofa! I flicked on the light. My toenail was bleeding and turning purple... Now it is black!

I’ve been thru this before (a few times) so I know what to expect. The nail doesn’t drop off. A healthy pink one grows under the black, with an elevated ridge separating the two. Several people told me they would never grow in normal looking again. – They were wrong!

During my childhood, before religion was removed from public schools, we learned Bible tales right along with the three R’s. In Biblical times washing a guests feet, then massaging them with olive oil was quite common. This sounded sensual and alluring to me.

Now, I am not someone who likes others messing with any part of my body! I hate going to hairdressers, even. But I would make an exception for my feet! Twice, I’ve had full body massages and both were a waste of money! My head was lodged in some type of cushion that looked like a toilet seat. On the last occasion, a eucalyptus pad was at the bottom, inhaling it gave me a sinus headache! I jerked it out and instructed the masseuse to remove it from my presence. Afterward, I endured icky grease being rubbed into my skin.

The only place I enjoyed the massage was on my feet, where they spent the least amount of time! For what I was paying, each toe should have been massaged individually. That would have been sublime! -- All I ask is that they keep my toes out of their mouth!

Friends told me that you receive a wonderful foot massage with a pedicure. -- NO YOU DON’T! What you get is similar to restaurants pouring hot water over your spent, soggy teabag. Your 2^nd cup tastes like piss water! Those pathetic little pedicure messages are over in seconds. The fact they can charge $20 for this and then expect a tip is just a rip-off! – And I can clip and paint my nails faster and better, too!

Clearly, I am NOT a spa person! If I won the lottery tomorrow they wouldn’t make 1 dime off of me!

My idea of fun is a big sheet of bubble wrap! I double it over and stomp on it with my bare feet as they do with grapes. It sounds like the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre!

In the early 1970’s, the year I turned 23, I lost BOTH big toenails just weeks apart in separate accidents. The 1^st was the worst and most memorable. I was busy taking phone orders in our family florist business. My shoes were off under my desk. A wedding was scheduled in our chapel later that evening. My father was getting ready. He pulled a lengthy, cylinder-shaped vacuum across the carpet. One of my calls happened to be for a designer in the back room. I walked around my desk to yell out to her. The heavy vacuum was dragged right over my foot. Blood gushed forth as I shrieked and screamed!

“Don’t bleed on the carpet!!!” my father kept hollering.

“The hell with the damn carpet!” I told him, angrily. “I am in pain!” A near-by designer rushed over with paper towels.

Still bleeding, I returned to taking phone calls. The next one happened to be my dad’s mistress and my future step-mother. Between ouches, I related the incident.

“What were you doing standing in the way?” she snapped. In other words, this accident was all MY fault! Grrrrr! I was tempted to slam the phone in her ear!

Just two weeks later, I was racing thru the kitchen forgetting that the floor had been waxed! Slipping and sliding, I crashed hard against a wall! My other big toe took the brunt of it. Now I was left with 2 sore, black toenails!

I was leaving for Mexico the following week, along with my father and his mistress! -- This was the trip we all slept together in a king-size bed, me between them!

Just days prior to leaving, I was forced to purchase a new pair of shoes, with open toes. These had lots of straps and seemed comfortable in the store. However, this was not the case when climbing pyramids and other ruins with steep, long steps that were better suited for rolling dead bodies than walking.

We left our Mexico City hotel early and took a cab out to explore the Aztec ruins. This area was vast and filled with a fascinating history. I was enjoying the day despite my pain. I had not the chance to break in my shoes before the trip. I would have been better off going barefoot, there!  

After we returned to our hotel in the late afternoon, blood had dried and caked all around my shoe straps. Dad had to take his knife and cut them off my feet.

For the remainder of the trip, I wore over-sized plastic thongs purchased in a shop around the block. These were the only comfortable shoes I could wear. Wherever we went, people stared at them.

For the trip home, we changed planes twice. First, we caught a small airplane in Acapulco right before dawn. (Watching the sun rise atop the mountains over Acapulco Bay is a memory I will always cherish.) Back in Mexico City we caught our plane to Miami. Boarding these planes, I suffered in closed- toed shoes, which I removed instantly upon seating.

The nails on my 2 big toes grew back just fine! And my pinky toe will too!

THE BACK-TO-SCHOOL BALLET

Hisss! Booooo $#%*! <+>!!! <o>!!! That was my reaction to the 1^st day of school, back when I was a kid.

Now that I’m an adult, I sing! “Yippy! Skippy! My mailbox is safe until the weekend!” Inside, I’m leaping and twirling thru the air in sheer exultation!

Truth be told, I’ve always hated kids, even back when I was one! The only thing that I have against abortion is they don’t perform nearly enough of them. Children are dirty and they make way too much noise. It’s a mystery to me why people actually want them around.

Imagine what a more beautiful, sweet, and serene world this would be without children fouling the landscape. They are vermin! – The definition of vermin is: annoying, destructive, pest. It applies!

After moving here, I got a queasy feeling seeing all the mailboxes lined up along the road. This seemed to be just inviting trouble. In the years to come, I would find garbage, silly-string, and other sticky disgusting things inside my mailbox. If I put my flag up, it would be down and vice versa, or I’d find it wide open on a rainy day. – These happenings always occurred during summer, a weekend, or a school holiday.

I wish these kids would keep their booger-pick’n fingers off my property! I’ve always thought tampering with someone else’s mail was a federal offense!

Example: I was out pulling weeds from my walkway; a boy on a bicycle was parked in the street drinking a slurpee. We saw, but did not acknowledge one another. I went indoors to pay a few bills. (To this day, I don’t conduct any important business online because I’m hacker candy.) As I walked toward my mailbox I noticed red slime all over the top. Inside, remained what was left of the slurpee.

That was the proverbial last straw! I gave my box a thorough cleaning, then drove to the Post Office to mail my bills and file a complaint.

I was given a form to fill out, but since I didn’t know the kid’s name or what house from which he spawned, it was useless. I was instructed to call the police the next time it happened. – Of course they would give this top priority!

Kids today may be little whizzes when it comes to technology, but in all other ways they seem dumber. They should be forced to attend school year round, starting earlier in the day and ending late into the evening.

On another recent occasion, while I was on my computer, I heard the doorbell ring. Since I was expecting a package, I looked outside, nothing! Then I noticed long, ratty-colored hair hanging down the side of the big oak in my yard. – I knew I’d been punked! I returned to the computer as my doorbell continued to ring on & off repeatedly all morning.

Annoyed, I went upstairs to where I could get a good view. I spied a group of about 5 or more girls ranging in age from 11 to 14 running from my property. -- I always thought ringing doorbells was something 5 & 6 year old kids did for jollies, some of these skanks looked to be in Junior High!

I did my best to ignore them. Later, I went back upstairs and happened to glance out my window. This group of delinquents was now gathered around my mailbox. My jaw dropped as I watched an older girl pull it open. Quickly I lifted my window. “What are you were looking for in there!” I shouted. She glared up at me and shrugged. Slowly, they moved away, seating themselves on the street in front of my neighbor’s house.

The second after my mailman arrived, I was out there! I was expecting a new auto insurance policy and wanted to make certain I actually received it.

The following day, I asked my neighbor if she had noticed that group of girls, and if she knew where they lived, or their parent’s names. She shook her head. “I doubt they were from this neighborhood,” she said. “Someone was probably throwing a party and that’s why they were around.”

So why weren’t they at the party house? In fact, the kids always seem to be out in the street rather than home on their own property where they belong! There are too many damn kids around here!

Hark, I hear bells! I’m leaping, twirling, leaping! I know it ain’t Santa in his reindeer sleigh. -- Those are SCHOOL BELLS! -- Suck it up and eat chalk, brats!

I fall to the carpet in happy exhaustion. Sky kick!

LOOSENING THE UNFRIENDING FAIRY

She’s a little bitch that fairy, kind’a like the hit lady of Facebook. However, sometimes a herd needs culling. And I’ve been on the receiving end more than a few times myself.

“Who the blazes are these people?” I’d say to myself every time I went thru my “Friends” list. I didn’t know many of them from a hole in the dirt! I’d put it off long enough, they had to go!

I know this sounds hypocritical coming from the LinkedIn whore. (That’s me!) However, LinkedIn is business site and I may actually conduct business with those connections. Facebook is a social site, except I have O interaction with all but a few. Too many strangers were taking up space. Of course anyone whose name ever appeared on my wall even once was safe, with 1 or 2 exceptions.

People I unfriend, tend to fall into 2 extremes. Either they are total strangers who completely ignore me after I accept their invitations, or they immediately ring me up for a private chat besieging me with annoying and intrusive personal questions. Young guys from foreign countries tend to fall into the latter category.

I was on the fence about some. Often, if it was someone from Vero Beach I wondered if I might have met them at one of the local business networking luncheons. If so, I’m liable to run into them again and it might prove awkward.

But then I remembered, I’ve been unfriended by several from these events. And these were people I had chatted with more than a few times, too. I was taken by surprise when I got the boot! Probably it had to do with politics. Vero Beach is a strongly religious, Tea Party town. And I’m that heathen woman who voted for Obama. (Twice!)

However, anyone is within their rights to unfriend anyone for ANY reason! In the great scheme of things unfriending is no big deal. Besides, I would rather have 2 good, close friends than 2000 faux ones.

I’ll admit I greatly enjoy Facebook. Each time I click on, I feel like a kid with a new toy. But it’s tantamount to living on a diet of cotton candy & potato chips. It’s also tremendous time suck. At my age time is quickly running out. Time is no illusion when you are growing older.

It’s remarkable how one’s perception of time changes with age. During those miserable desk years when my backside was velcroed to a chair (school & work) an hour dragged by so slowly it felt like 5 hours. -- Of course back then, I was stuck in a place I hated.

Now, I just blink and it seems the whole day is over in a flash! Time is traveling at warp speed, it’s really scary!

Often, after watching 10 minutes of a movie, I’ll reach for the remote to delete. I’m not wasting 2 hours of my life on this! I’m thinking. But I’ve wasted more hours than that on Facebook!

Another author insisted I needed to be there to promote my work. All it has done is to make me less productive. With all the time lost, I could have written and published another book. Not to mention I’d have a much cleaner house!

With determination, I’ve set out to limit my non-productive computer time. And it’s more of a challenge than I had anticipated. It’s way too easy to lose track of time online! You’re in another zone, which is wonderful if you are actually accomplishing something, not looking at videos or reading posts.

I need major Facebook cold turkey. If I can’t muster up the discipline to do that, I’m seriously thinking about deactivating. Perhaps that’s the answer, period. We’ll see.

MAKE-UP, SHAKE-UP, & MARK-UP

Here’s an old saying: “Powder and paint make little girls what they ain’t.” And here is another: “Any old barn looks good with a new coat of paint.” Both are true!

Way back when I was a teenager, my father told me that cosmetic companies take advantage of women. The stuff cost pennies to make, not only is there a tremendous mark-up, but they keep raising the price to ridiculous new heights. They figure they have women over a barrel and can get away with it.

Nowadays, I purchase most of my make-up at the Dollar Store. Hey, those greedy bastards are not going to make a big profit off me! But to my horror, I read recently that discount store cosmetics have nasty ingredients harmful to your health. So far, I haven’t suffered any ill effects, no puss-spewing boils, nor have my fingernails turned black and rotted off.

I shouldn’t make light this, since the facts are probably valid. Most of these products are made overseas probably in some third world country. Lord knows what goes into them! Perhaps I’ve just been lucky so far. Unfortunately, I’m forced to think with my wallet.

When make-up gets old, it should be thrown out to avoid infection, anyway. However, it’s far easier to toss out stuff that isn’t outrageously expensive!   

A high-end department store cosmetologist was interviewed on TV. “First thing,” she said “we make them show us the cosmetics in their purse. Then we sigh with disdain, shake our heads and display our more expensive versions.”

Since the creation of 24 hour lip stain, I leave make-up at home. (Also my lips are tattooed.) Speaking hypothetically, if I got that reaction, I’d tell her, “Missy, I’m twice your age and look way better than you!” – No, no, no, I would NEVER say that to anyone! – But you’d better believe I’m thinking it!!! I’d probably just gather up my things and leave.

A couple decades ago when I was an ash blonde, I found an eye shadow/liner that went so perfectly with my hair & complexion it looked as if I’d been born wearing it. Best of all, it was inexpensive. This was a drugstore product.

Without warning, it vanished from the shelves! “That shade has been discontinued,” the clerk told me. -- How could they do such a mean thing! Surely I wasn’t the only ash blonde around! I took what remained to the Cosmetic Dept at the mall. I placed it on the counter.

“We don’t carry that brand!” The snippy young salesgirl told me.

“I know you don’t,” I replied. “I’m searching for a similar shade.”

She found one nearly exact, at about 5 times the price! It was placed inside a fancy bag and I carried it home.

This pricey version flaked and didn’t stay in place. I was constantly doing damage control; otherwise I looked like I had 2 black eyes. Also it drifted and caked in the creases of my upper lid. I had none of these problems with the cheap drugstore version! Obviously price doesn’t guarantee quality.

Shortly after, I switched to a different shade of blonde. Each time I change hair color, I change make-up as well. Now I’m a redhead, but I tell everyone not to get too used to this color.

I must be doing something right! This 63 year old barn is holding up pretty well, with or without the paint job.

THE SUPERNATURAL VS.THE NATURAL LOOK

Seems every other week I see online that some woman is conducting a “bold” experiment and going make-up free in public for a year. Oh please! Look at all the dish-rag faces around, it’s not a “bold” experiment, its everyday life!

Just go inside one of those fundamentalist churches and see all the “bold “women in their drab clothes sitting in the pews.

Why the rush to join the frump-a-dump brigade???

The latest woman in this experiment has a pleasant face, but bland as vanilla pudding. – I like rainbow sprinkles on my vanilla pudding! We taste with our eyes as much as with our lips.

What is wrong with trying to look your best!

Yes, make-up is a mask, but so are clothes! There is nothing wrong with that! – It’s the mask on the inside for which you have to watch out!

The following day, I watched a video of random men being made-up by a cosmetologist. A step in the right direction! Now, I want to see men forced into the same tight, revealing, uncomfortable clothes women endure!!!

Clothes can be comfortable and modest, yet still attractive. The ladies clothing designers seem to have forgotten this.

Unless performing on a stage, no one (man or woman) needs to wear as much make-up as in that video! Just a bit here & there can work magic! I can show you how to go from blah to ooh la la!  

A friend who read my latest book (co-authored with April Sampson) told me, “You sure go thru a whole lot to look like that!” Much of what is in the book exists only as an option, I reminded her.

The best cosmetic is clean living. Otherwise all the make-up in the world won’t help. Strangely, this seems to be the hardest for most. And don’t skimp on sunscreen! This is crucial!

I should not have to point out that the right clothes and cosmetics add to a woman’s empowerment! A good Nazi woman did not wear make-up. It was discouraged in that society! In Muslim countries, women are forced to wear burqas in public. In a totalitarian male-dominated society, anything that empowered women is either discouraged or outright forbidden. Beauty has power; a lot of men can’t handle that.

I recall a once popular saying, “There are no unattractive women, only those who don’t know how to be beautiful.” The problem nowadays is that most women won’t even make the effort. This is truly a sin.

FURRY LOVE & FUR COVERED ME

I still laugh and cheer when I see the video of that cat tearing into the dog attacking her small owner. I had a female cat exactly like that! She was a Russian Blue with a white half-moon on her belly that looked just like a bikini bottom and white markings on her chest & neck that made her appear to be wearing a halter top. Also she had white mittens & toes. Tasha was a little beauty we acquired at 10 months of age. Already spayed, that didn’t seem to matter to the neighborhood Toms. They still came around.

I could almost hear saxophone music playing as she sashayed down the driveway swinging her saucy little behind. Meow- wah-wah-waaah! Meow-wah-wah-waaah! However the Toms learned fast that Tasha wasn’t game for their advances.

My dogs & cats were never pets. They were family members and fully-empowered canine & feline Americans.

Our small female dog Coco, was her step-sister. She was terrified of big dogs! A neighbor had 2 large Labradors that often came onto our property. They would gang-up and playfully tease Coco who didn’t enjoy the harassment. Tasha would race to the rescue with teeth & nails barred, yowling & hissing! Those big dogs would shoot off down the street in dire terror as if she was the devil! It was hilarious to watch!

Until 2003 I always had either a dog or cat, usually both in my home. I’m germ phobic, but this does not apply to animals. Right into adulthood, my mother was always yelling at me to stop kissing the dog & cat on the mouth. And I’d holler back, “What’s the big deal, people kiss babies!” – I’ve never been one of those people who think babies are cute, not the human kind anyway!

Eating mammals makes me feel like a cannibal. I’ve always avoided it whenever possible.

Around 2004 I was in a Thrift Store when I came across a beautiful faux fur jacket for $5. A great imitation for sure I thought and what a bargain! After I got it home and examined it. I discovered to my horror it was the real deal, genuine silver fox! Now I felt like a hypocrite, but throwing away $5. made me feel guilty. So, it just sat in my closet for a few years.

Later, my friend Margaret came again for a fun day out on my birthday. The day was an extremely cold one by Florida standards. I was debating whether or not to wear the beautiful fur. I decided OK, maybe this once.

First, we stopped at a gas station. As I stood pumping gas, I heard someone at a red light screaming, “Animal killer!" “Animal killer!” My reaction was WHERE? WHERE? I looked around. Then I realized he was referring to ME!!! Now I felt ashamed and terrible.

Margaret was comforting. “No one is kinder to animals than you. Just forget it!” she said.

Well it ruined my day! I couldn’t get it out of my head! Later, as we sat eating in the restaurant I looked at the other people chowing away. How many of those cows & pigs on their plates died from a hammer or nail gun to the head, probably in agony! Yet no one blames the restaurant for serving and the customers for ordering. -- A woman in a fur coat is a much safer target than a man sitting in his truck eating a Big Mac!

Before long, it was the middle of summer. I spotted a full-length FAUX silver fox fur in one of my catalogues for half-price. I decided to buy myself an early Christmas present. I’m glad I did! I haven’t seen one that gorgeous since. It’s a darn good imitation, too! And if anyone dares to call me an animal killer, instead of hollering back, “I’m coming after you next!” I’ll just say it’s a fake fur, you dumb ass!”

The last time I wore it, an older man approached to inquire what type of fur I was wearing. “It’s a synthetic,” I replied. I could tell from his puzzled expression he was wondering what-the-heck kind of animal is a synthetic.

“Oh,” he said, “it looks like fox.”

“It’s synthetic fox!” I explained. Finally he understood.

Once upon a time, I couldn’t imagine my life without a dog or cat. But I’ve reached the point where I don’t want one anymore. At my age, an animal is liable to outlive me. I’m seeing more members of my High School graduating class in the obituaries all the time. What if I had a stroke or heart attack, or was in an accident and had to be hospitalized! My neighbors who left me to twist in the wind during 4 hurricanes aren’t going to rush to assume responsibility for any dog or cat.

Plus with inflation my budget is growing constantly tighter!

Nowadays having an animal is almost as expensive as having a kid! Just walking thru the door at a Veterinarian’s office used to cost me $100 alone and that was over 10 years ago! Plus I like to spoil my fur babies. After my last dog died, I gathered up her things and donated them to the local animal shelter. There were so many toys, blankets, types of food & treats you’d have thought I had 10 dogs rather than one small one.

However, I do enjoy the neighborhood cats & dogs. I like them way better than most of the people. In the A.M. when I go out to fetch my newspaper, a little gray cat (I believe from one house over) comes to greet me. I don’t know whether it’s a male or female, but we always delight in a lovemaking session right there in the middle of my driveway.