WHAT? IS THAT AN INSULT!

A friend told me she often made popcorn while watching flicks at home just as I do, then quickly added, "Did I just use that antiquated word FLICKS!"

I told her she probably picked it up from me. I use the word "FLICKS" all the time. To me, a light entertaining movie is a flick; where as a powerful one, the stuff of Academy Awards, or any foreign one is a film. This is MY thinking, anyway.

I LOVE antiquated words and phrases as well as many new fangled ones, anything imaginative, colorful, that's just plain fun to roll off the tongue. Many Victorian euphemisms in particular hit the mark, often without excessive vituperation, plus their insults were clever and hilarious! We need this again, desperately!

Below are only a few examples:

Bag o' Mystery:  Sausage

Bitch the Pot:  Tea is served!

Fustilug:  A touchy, crabby person

Gongoozler:  Someone who dawdles or idles

Totty One-Lung:  A sickly person with an inflated sense of self-importance.

Zounderkite:  A goof who makes awkward, avoidable mistakes.

Gas Pipes:  Tight trousers

Dirty Puzzle:  A lustful, loose woman

Tot-Hunting:  Prowling for sluts & sex.

Heymarket Hector:  A pimp

EYEBALLS SKYROCKET!!! Those cheeky Victorians even had names for male & female body parts:

The Staff of Life & Master John Goodfellow were a reference to the penis. Tallywags were testicles as were whirlygigs & twiddle-diddles. Crinkum-Crankum, The Phoenix Nest, & Mount Pleasant referred to the vagina. Cupid's Kettle Drums are now called tits, knockers, boobs, tah tah's; take your pick.

Now I've been inspired me to come up with some NEW WORDS OF MY OWN!  See below:

 

SLUPERDUFF:  A habitually late person. If you know someone like this, buy a cattle prod or a flame-thrower.

Gnatbeezer:  An annoying pesky, petty, over-critical person...Purchase a bottle of strong Dollar Store perfume, one that smells like insecticide & spray into their face -- accidentally of course!

Dudhumper:  Usually a barfly, someone who indiscriminately becomes intimate with strangers. -- Calling all Neanderthals & troglodytes; have at it, yeeehaw!!!

Toodledoom:  Someone romantically involved with a highly toxic person. Love is not only blind; it's deaf, dumb, & retarded. These cases are hopeless!

Grabbersnoodle:  Someone who forces a hug. -- For this, I plan to create a long pair of gloves with sharp metal spikes and then appear on Shark Tank. Kevin O'Leary would immediately go for these! And I'd give him a big tight squeeze of thanks!

Hahahooti:  A funny joke, just like the one I posted in an earlier blog about the Frenchman & the old lady. Scroll way back to The Continent of Pangaea to read this joke.

Spider Pus:  Exfoliating creams that sting!

Neon Hat:  Someone who shamelessly seeks attention & will resort to anything to get it. Think reality show celebrities!

Ratflinger:  A vile person who hits under the belt to undermine an opponent. One is occupying the White House at the moment. I wish to see him bungee jump off the Washington Monument with a frayed cord!

High-flying-jig:  How you feel when karma zaps a deserving person. However sometimes karma needs a helping hand!

Platepooper:  Someone who thinks they're a skilled chef, but in fact is quite the opposite!  -- Start gasping & wheezing! Suddenly exclaim, "Gadzooks! I must be allergic!" Make a quick exit.

Roach Soup:  An invitation you'd rather decline. See Above!

Now I expect YOU to start using all of these as part of your vocabulary and work them into your conversations!  -- MINE FIRST!!!

A CULTURAL APPROPRIATOR, ME???

I read about the teenager accused of cultural appropriation because she wore a Chinese dress to her prom. Oh for crying out loud!!! If cultural appropriation was a crime I'd be lined up against a wall, blindfolded and shot by a firing squad! I'm the worst offender out there! I'd probably be slapped with a with misappropriation label!

I saw a photo of the young woman online. She should be proud of how beautiful she looked in the dress! She did nothing wrong and owes no one an apology or even an explanation. She was much kinder to her critics than I would have been!

My flagrant compulsion as an appropriator began at a tender age. I was around age 4 when my family took me to visit a Seminole village. There, at my insistence, they purchased a turquoise & brown Indian dress with tribal markings. I've always loved pretty dresses! This one became my favorite! And coming from an Indian village made it that more special.

Today, I purchase many clothes from black women's catalogues. I love the styles! Plus they're made for women who are built like me with a protruding bosom & behind. Also they lack that frump-a-dump look found in most catalogues for women of a certain age. And I've always been attracted to colorful and interesting clothing.

Cultural appropriation/misappropriation means turning the clothing into a costume and making fun of the culture. Now I love costumes and I've worn many! I dressed as Norma Desmond when I attended the complementary lunch sponsored by the retirement home. And I wore black from head-to-toe at the one sponsored by a funeral home. -- These were tame compared to some of the get-ups I created doing commercials I wrote and performed live at business networking events.

However I've never derided anyone's cultural heritage. I consider myself a citizen of the world first and an American second.

Yes, I've worn Mexican attire at a Cinco de Mayo festivals, but no giant sombrero. Others did, however it was all in the spirit of celebration. And I once wore Rhine maiden duds for Oktoberfest. Look at all the people who wear funny green hats on St. Patrick's Day!  I've never done that, but someday I might!  During holiday merrymaking and festivals different rules apply.

And I would have no issue if someone from China dressed up in a ten gallon hat, chaps, boots & spurs from the rip roaring days of the old west! Or if anyone from another culture came dressed as a pilgrim for Thanksgiving, why would I even care! Geez, many people from exotic cultures wear North American styles!

After returning from Thailand in 2016 I started wearing the colorful harem pants I bought. (Lots of non-Asians wear them, there.) One day I happened to be wearing a pair with my turban when I went to fetch my mail. A neighbor's redneck lawn man passed by in his truck, he gave me a really dirty look. I glared defiantly back at him.

I could just imagine him telling my neighbors down at the cul de sac "Did you know there's a Mooslum woman living just up the street!?" And I can imagine them replying, "Oh you must be referring to that liberal lesbian who voted for Obama." -- For the record, I am neither liberal nor a lesbian, but I DID vote for Obama, TWICE! I had campaign signs on my lawn.

A year before Thailand, I met a friend at the mall for lunch. I was wearing exotic palazzo pants, a long sleeve fringe top, & giant earrings. I mentioned that I'd read it was the height of fashion in Dubai. "Are you going to Dubai?" she inquired. I shook my head and laughed.

Little did I know that a year later I would actually be in Dubai!!! I had to change planes there on my way to Bangkok. While at the airport, I found it fascinating to people watch. I saw styles from all over the planet! What struck me was how drab and boring North Americans looked by comparison. Jeans and T-shirt have almost become a uniform. Well NOT mine!

OK, I've worn jeans for heavy duty work around the house and on vacations while traipsing thru jungles, riding elephants, or climbing pyramids, but only then.

While in Ecuador, I noticed the native women wore long black shirts with lacy or embroidered white tops. They looked lovely and quite elegant. I asked a guide and later one of the women in the market if anyone would be offended if I started dressing that way. (At the time, I was considering moving there.) I was assured not and given the green light.

After returning from Ecuador, I put together an outfit like the ones I had admired. I've worn it many times and will again. And this is true of every outfit in my vast collection of culturally appropriated attire! I wear them all with pride!

Remember, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

THE INEVITABLE & MYSTERIOUS UNKNOWN

Yesterday I attended a complementary luncheon, this one sponsored by a funeral home. Of course I went! This was a free meal at a country club. Several years back, I attended one sponsored by a cremation society.

What happens after death? I find myself thinking more & more about this as I grow older. As I'm fond of saying, I'm now 67 and one year closer to Heaven. What is Heaven? I've heard it's whatever you want it to be. If that's true, my dead relatives will be elsewhere! I've had encounters with ghosts and also some downright inexplicable experiences so I'm inclined to believe there's something after.

Reincarnation makes sense to me. However I don't want to return to this planet, it's Jerk World! I'd rather come back as an amoeba on another one. During autohypnosis I saw briefly a past incarnation, my death as part of the Roman war machine. I was part of a small group separated from the others. We were ambushed and outnumbered in a shallow stream under a steep, sheer cliff only a few feet higher than my 30ft cathedral ceiling. The barbarians wore helmets trimmed with fur. Quickly surrounded, we were overcome! While frantically engaged in a fight, a warrior came splashing thru the water and slashed me across my lower back with his sword! I swung around and fell face first into the stream! But I didn't die of my wound; I drown in the bloody water.

This revelation explained an issue that's plagued me since childhood. I loved to swim, but I'd freak out just thinking about my head under water. Eventually, I overcame this phobia. However, I'm still uncomfortable with it.

But what if this vision and all of my inexplicable experiences are a brain glitch and nothing but mere illusion? What if this life is ALL there is. Why is that a bad thing??? During surgeries I recall the feeling, or rather the lack of it, no dreams during my unconscious,  as if I simply ceased to exist. If that's what death is, I don't have a problem with it. If I could remain eternally young in good health with an endless stream of wealth, I'd want to live forever. But that's not reality! I've enjoyed wonderful times and endured horrible ones, I can accept finality.

Actually, I'm far more frightened and worried about advancing age and illness than I am of death!!! Even a brief hospital stay would ruin me financially.

Most believe that you are automatically entitled to receive Medicare once you hit age 65. That's untrue! If you are ineligible for Social Security you are also ineligible for Medicare. I am proof! -- And don't tell me to get a job unless you are offering me one. And I mean one that pays a living wage!

A few have suggested a GoFundMe page when the need arises. However I am someone many people cannot relate to, much less sympathize. Most would probably be happy to see me die. -- And I'm spitting on each of you in my head!!!

We live in a screwed-up pseudo religious society where owning an assault rifle is a God-given right, but affordable healthcare is a privilege and often a luxury. And this is only one issue!

The previous complementary luncheon I attended just weeks before was sponsored by a retirement home. The speaker was good and she made the place sound fabulous. If an appliance breaks, you just phone maintenance. They will not even allow you to change a light bulb by yourself! Best of all, should a hurricane appear on the horizon, no cause for worry, you do nothing. It's someone else's problem! Plus there are 5 restaurants to choose from and one meal per day (your choice) is included. As for medical care, no problem!  All of this for only one check per month.

Whenever someone inquired about price, we were informed it all depended on the dwelling of your choice; pricing was listed in a brochure on the back table. And we were assured this place was the most reasonable around.

I picked up one of those brochures. The most inexpensive dwelling there, a small studio apartment the size of a hotel room, (no porch or veranda) cost $500 more a month than I pull in! That does not include the purchase price! If I sold my 2-story house that I love with room to roam and a private back yard I might be able to afford it. However, I'd better take an enormous purse to that one daily meal because I'd have no money left for groceries, or anything else.  At least the retirement home I visited in Thailand included all meals.    

Also I find people to be draining. I don't like to socialize with groups, much less live with them! I would feel like an inmate confined to that tiny apartment. NO THANK YOU! If I had the amount required to live there, it would be unnecessary! I could be enjoying life way better right here.

Everyone who sees me cannot believe I'm as old as I am. I want to keep it that way.

I've switched to a healthier diet and I'm doing everything in my power to preserve my health. I'm not trying to live forever, I can't afford to! I just don't want to die in a hospital! Nor do I want to be one of those senior citizens with a kitchen counter or medicine cabinet full of over-priced drugs. Perhaps everything I'm doing will never be enough, heredity is a major factor. But when the time comes, I'm determined to leave this world on my own terms.

YOUNG & FREE

Decades ago before all the concrete & traffic, and before half the state of New York moved here to ruin it, Florida was paradise! Gorgeous tropical wilderness was everywhere! I was raised a free-range child. Everyone was back then and exploring is what we did.

Whenever outdoors, whether it was with friends or alone my parents never knew where I was at any given moment. In First Grade while living on the Intracoastal Waterway in Hobe Sound, I often walked blocks to friend's homes without informing my parents. All my folks cared about was whether or not I showed up on time for meals.

From Hobe Sound, my family moved to the 100 acre place on the Port Salerno border. Here, there were no neighbors within socializing distance, just beautiful eye-filling nature that felt like heaven. Every inch of it was explored either on horseback or on foot.

At age 9 under protest, I moved with my family to our new home within the city limits. Our house overlooked the St. Lucie River. We enjoyed a magnificent view from the back because we were on a steep hill. Visitors would gasp and their jaws would drop at the sight. However, I would have given it up in a heartbeat to go back to those seemingly endless acres of beautiful green wilderness and the lake we left behind. The beauty of that place was serene with no people noise.

The new house was a bad fit for me right from the start. Also life for my family seemed to quickly unravel there. But some of my memories at the beginning are good ones.

We had a 150 ft. dock with a boathouse at the end to the right. On top was a sundeck where we'd take the binoculars. The river was a mile across plus we could see for miles each way. And we brought the radio up there, too. We'd dance to the music! Back then the twist was popular. (They were probably doing it in Siberia!) Thank goodness it was easy to do.

My friends and I swam in the river too and often drifted far from home.

Just to the right of our dock near the shore was a clam bed. During the season I'd wade out and feel them under my bare feet. I'd toss them into my bucket and for days after I'd have fried clams or clam chowder for dinner. I loved it! 

Alone, I frequently took long scenic walks down the shoreline. I watched herds of manatees swimming down the river. Sadly they became fewer and fewer with the passing years until they disappeared altogether. And there were dolphins too! I'd stroll behind all manner of homes. And more than a few times found myself behind the hotel where Natalie Wood honeymooned the first time she and Robert Wagner married.

Once, after a storm I discovered a raft with a long pole & oar washed up on shore. I paddled way out on the river and for long miles. Life moved slower then with plenty of time to savor it.

Just as frequently, I walked to what is now referred to as the Historic Downtown District. A theatre was there and Saturday movie matinees were only 25 cents. Often, I'd stop at the Drug Store for a scrumptious ice cream soda. These were 25 cents also.

Later, when I was in the 11 and 12 age group friends would stay over. On summer evenings we'd walk to town and have dinner at the Drug Store counter; usually hot dogs, fries, & a coke. Then we'd catch the 7:00 PM movie. Afterward, we'd walk home by ourselves in the dark. We were never afraid.

During friend's overnight visits we stayed in our guesthouse across the carport. After my grandfather's death it became vacant. Later, at age 39 I moved over there after Dad re-married. As a kid it was the perfect place for entertaining. We could stay up late as we wanted. Often we'd act out everything we saw in the movie adding our own plot twists and alternate ending. We reveled in pure clean fun and it was glorious!

Children both small and tweens enjoyed far more freedom from parental supervision back then. I can recall only one harrowing incident while being out and about. This happened when I was age 10.

My friend Shelly who was a year older, received a bike for her birthday. She took me for a ride. I sat on the back. We had wheels now and intended to do some major exploring far from home. She peddled into a neighborhood neither of us had ever seen before. Inside an open garage were a group of boys ranging in age from 7 to 15. They were gathered around a motorcycle.

As Shelly pedaled past, a huge vicious German Sheppard came tearing out after us barking and growling! --That dog belonged to one of those boys; you'd think someone would have called it back! Instead, all just looked on with intrigue as if they'd paid tickets for a show! Quickly the dog caught up with the bike! It grabbed my skirt within its snarling teeth. I jerked it free as Shelly pedaled fast away.

I was shaken, but relieved it was only my skirt and not my leg! But usually my friends & I were safe.

Unbeknownst to my parents, to make extra spending money, friends and I would go door-to-door selling oranges, grapefruit, & kumquats from our trees in the yard. We'd start on the next street over and work our way into town. Citrus fruit in Florida was as common as Italian restaurants in Italy. Yet sometimes we got lucky. A nice man once bought our entire bag for a dollar! He led us into his kitchen where he handed us the money.

In retrospect, I see how risky this was. However back then, most adults were considered above reproach and trusted. Now, I can see how this would enable a sicko to take advantage. We just happened to be fortunate. Eventually, a neighbor told my folks and we were ordered to stop. But our fun remained unabated.

Summer days were splendorous and overflowing with joy! Never did I want them to end! Freedom filled the air like perfume.   

Everything changed dramatically with the start of a new school year. There was absolutely nothing pleasant about school, at least not the one where I spent the majority of my attendance.  

I remember my childhood times vividly. Technology had yet to commandeer every aspect of our lives. I may as well have grown up on another planet in comparison to the kids now. And I'm grateful for that!

STUFF THE BERET, I WANT THE BUFFET

I will be the first to admit that I'm a seriously uncool person by society's standards. For one thing, I have never followed popular music. Unless the electricity is out for more than 6 hours, or its Christmas, I never listen to the radio except in my car. I prefer quiet inside my home.

Lately, whenever I go anywhere, anytime, the 1980's song by Prince, Raspberry Beret always seems to be playing on my car radio. It's a happy upbeat tune so I don't turn down the volume as I do many others. Frankly, the oldies station is just too current for my taste.

I love folk songs! Almost everything else sounds like noise to me. And by folk songs, I mean those from centuries past before they were mutated into that hideous country whine & twang by the Appalachian hillbillies.  

As to the song Raspberry Beret, I can only make out a few of the lyrics. For a long while, I thought Prince was singing Raspberry Buffet!!! Which is another reason I enjoyed it, this conjured up wondrous toothsome images of raspberry cake, raspberry torte, raspberry truffle, raspberry scones, raspberry turnovers, raspberry cupcakes, raspberry muffins, raspberry parfaits, raspberry mousse, raspberry cookies, raspberry ice cream; a glorious buffet of all things raspberry!!! All of it washed down with tangy raspberry tea! Not to mention raspberry combined with dark chocolate is a taste straight out of heaven!

Yes, I did get the Second Hand Store part. However there is a high end consignment place down in Fort Pierce that holds an open house with an elaborate buffet around the holidays. My friend, Marie & I have attended several times and we didn't need to eat dinner afterward.

This shop has many beautiful and interesting items. I've made several purchases there, but so far no berets, not at this one anyway. And I happen to own a varied assortment of these, but no raspberry one! The closest is a light pink, the color of a creamy raspberry mousse. The kind you make by adding Raspberry Jello mix to whipped topping and blending. Chill and place fresh raspberries on top along with dark chocolate shavings and people will be impressed. I guarantee it!

Most of my berets are of the style with a large nipple on top; one has a long feather on the side. Two have a knit flower there, those I purchased at Claire's in the mall. The really classy-looking one with the buttons on the side I bought from Frederick's of Hollywood. (No one can believe it's their product!) And I have a black one with a bow on the side that looks almost identical to the one Monica Lewinsky made infamous. Only I bought mine at a consignment place several years before.

The last time I wore this one, I was coming out of the mall as a man was coming in. He gave me a wink! My reaction was eeeewww! I hope he doesn't think I'm anything like THAT woman!

But whenever I wear any of my berets, I seem to attract a lot of attention from men. Guys seem to get excited by these little hats, especially men from a certain generation, but others too as attested by the song.

About 15 years ago, I had just paid for a meal at Applebee's. As I headed for the door a young waiter (not mine) hurried over and opened it for me. "You are such a beautiful lady, thank you for coming in," he said. I was taken back with surprise, but flattered! However I do believe that giant nipple coming out of the side of my head probably gave me a certain air of je ne sais quoi.

Another time I was standing in line at Walmart wearing my black nipple beret & black boots along with a gray jumper & white turtleneck. The man in front turned and told me, "Looking at you, I feel like I'm back in France."

With a flourish of my hand I replied in a phony French accent, "In my heart, I am a European woman." I don't think he knew how to respond, he said nothing. But the clerk cackled!

I thought back to my late 20's when I was visiting Paris. I happened to be seated at a cafe when along came a group of Japanese tourists and they started snapping photos of me. No, I wasn't wearing a beret. But my blonde hair was jaw length that year.

Here in Florida, 10 months of summer isn't unusual anymore thanks to global warming. So my berets are stuffed in the back of a closet now, they're more of a cool weather accessory. Nowadays, I'm usually in wide-brimmed hats and big sunglasses, better for enduring the blazing sun and the sweltering heat & humidity.

However, last winter we were blessed with chilly weather. Mostly, I was homebound. I'm not complaining, it felt like playing hooky.

Spring is here and for breakfast this morning I enjoyed fresh raspberries. I sing loudly and off-key my own words to the Prince song: "Raspberry Buffet! Hey! Hey! Hey!"

MY HEART WAS SURE NOT IN ART

My friend, Marie is blessed with the gift. Gracing her home are gorgeous pieces of art that she created herself. Marie could have her own show! She is THAT good! Unfortunately, she does not believe this. I've tried repeatedly to persuade her to at least join Facebook and post her work. But she has no interest in computers. Marie would rather be out living her life than starring at a screen. This is another thing I admire about her despite the fact I've become one of those pitiful screen people. 

I love and enjoy art. I’m a highly visual person; I gravitate to things with eye appeal. Sadly, I have zero talent in this area, myself.

But art is subjective; something doesn’t have to be good to be considered art. I’ve seen artwork in galleries and for sale at an exorbitant price that look as if created by a drunken monkey and some fool will probably pay that price. This aside, even bad art can be interesting, everyone sees the world thru their individual filter and have their own interpretation.

I have always believed it's highly possible humans were created by DNA tampering and interbreeding with space aliens. But when I see photos of those Nazca lines in Peru, I can’t help but wonder how a society with a far advanced technology could ever produce such amateur looking art!

Frequently, people ask if I'm an artist. I have that look, they say. Writers are considered artists, because we too, create from our head. And it's an art to write a 30 to 60 second commercial, then get up and perform live before an audience as I’ve done at networking luncheons. Believe me as an introvert, I’ve had to take flying leaps outside my comfort zone to do that! But honestly, if I could choose my talent, I’d prefer drawing or sculpting.

After I published my 1^st book, strangers asked, “Have you written anything else?” I found this insulting! Had I displayed a painting, no one would have asked, “Have you painted anything else?”

As a child, I never liked coloring books! They made me feel as if I was completing someone else’s work. I’d rather be given a blank piece of paper and create something of my own even if it was crappy or else go outside and play with rocks and spiders.

But there is no denying Marie's talent! Every October when she returns to Florida Marie enrolls in another Art Class. She's a natural and enjoys it, probably the top student every year!

Knowing from an early age that I had no skill in this area, I signed up for Art Class in the 9^th Grade just because I thought it would be a fun and easy credit.  – Was I ever wrong!

Most of the other students were no-talents like me, (a few were in denial about this) with maybe 3 genuinely gifted ones. The teacher possessed what most consider a strong personality. This squat man was loud, demanding, and swaggered when he walked. He was the type who made others want to either kiss his arse, spank it, or shove a firecracker between his butt cheeks and light it. I was in the latter category.

I think of art as something open with freedom of expression. Unlike writing, there are no rules and only guidelines, that's what I thought, anyway! Instead, there were lots of rules we were forced to follow. Mr. Loudswagger was a stickler about that! Some made no sense to me at all.

One in particular that bugged me the most: A drawing must start at the bottom of a canvas and work upward. He repeated this constantly! Well, I preferred to begin in the center and work around. And this is how I did it! Since our teacher liked to sit on his backside while we worked, I usually got away with it.

Then one spring day our class strolled to the park only a block away to sketch the statue there. It featured a curvy woman in a clingy garment. Grapes sprouted from her head instead of hair. She stood balancing a jug of wine on her shoulder with another spilling from her hip. This statue had been imported from Italy and was considered quite risqué in our (then) small coastal town. It has since been moved to the Historic Downtown area.

I seated myself comfortably on the grass. I began sketching in the middle as usual. Suddenly, I felt a yardstick on the back of my hand holding it down. A looming shadow overwhelmed my canvas. Yikes! It was Mr. Loudswagger!

"What have I been telling you for months!” he bellowed. “Always start at the bottom! Haven’t you been listening?!”

“OK,” I said nervously. Quickly, I pulled my hand away and moved my pencil to the bottom. He cleared his throat in disgust. I watched him swagger away. Then I went right back to drawing in the middle! This was MY work of art after all!!!

I passed the class with a C. The other no-talents all got B’s, but only the gifted ones received A’s. I had no desire to sign up for another Art Class ever again. I was clearly unsuited for it. Another issue, it was too messy for me! Despite wearing a smock, it was not unusual to show up for the following class with paint dotting my arms, face, or in my hair. However if you possess the aptitude and passion, I guess this is a minor thing.

I decided I'd rather just admire the work of those with talent.

BIG DARK GLASSES & MAPLE-FLAVORED SYRUP

Recently, I watched a movie The Space Between Us on my DVR. After the teenager born and raised on Mars came to Earth he was issued big dark sunglasses that covered his brows and both sides of his eyes. I laughed out loud at the sight of them! They were exactly like the ones I wore after my cataract surgeries.

The teen soon exchanged them with a street person for a cooler pair. However I was forced to wear mine for what seemed like forever! I'd spot other people wearing those same glasses when I was out & about. We'd smile and nod at one another as if we were members of some esoteric club. In a way we were, almost as if we came from Mars.

In the movie, the teen asked whomever he encountered: "What's your favorite thing about Earth?" For ME, it's the food! -- But you already know that, don't you?

Well hot cat pee!!! Not long ago I received a shock that nearly shattered me to my core!!!

One of my favorite flavors is maple! I actually prefer maple fudge to chocolate! And maple is not only delicious, it's healthy!

According to science, maple syrup protects brain cells from Alzheimer's. The cells are prevented from fibrillating or clumping and the maple keeps the beta-amyloid from sticking or tangling. -- I am NOT making this up!

Unfortunately, I have aged into the danger zone. My two best friends in the world, Margaret & Pat were lost to this disease as was my step-mother. Alzheimer's does not run in my family, but I still worry. I don't want to be seen naked as a jay bird stumbling over my sprinklers on my way to the mailbox one day!

So I bought a bottle of maple syrup for my spiraled butternut squash. However I noticed the syrup had a peculiar after taste. I grabbed the bottle and read the ingredients. To my horror, there was NO MAPLE listed! It was mostly corn syrup & fructose. This was only MAPLE-FLAVORED syrup!

On my next trip to the grocery store armed with reading glasses, I checked out the syrups. All the popular brands, (even the one I grew up enjoying over pancakes on Sunday mornings) as well as the others around them contained NO MAPLE whatsoever! Whoa! I was nothing short of traumatized. This must be how a little kid feels when they learn there is no Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, or Tooth Fairy! How can I ever believe or trust anyone ever again!!!

Several advertised NO FRUCTOSE in big letters, but there was NO MAPLE either! They were mostly CORN SYRUP and just MAPLE-FLAVORED!

Sure, PURE maple syrup was on a higher shelf; however, it was more than double the price. I purchased a small bottle.

I've come up with a healthy, or rather healthier dessert. I sparingly pour pure maple syrup on plain or frozen yogurt, top with lots of walnuts, (antioxidants, cancer fighting properties & heart healthy) then I liberally sprinkle on cinnamon (rich with antioxidants).

But man-o-man, I still love and long for maple fudge! But to my dire shock and horror, I recently discovered that the main ingredients are brown sugar with maple-flavoring. There is absolutely NO MAPLE in maple fudge, either! 

Earth sucks!!!