HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!

My forty second year of life is starting to shape up to be a somewhat body altering experience in many more ways than I actually want it to be.

Gravity has struck me at the most inconvenient time. It’s a time in my life where I am really starting to embrace the sisterhood of womanliness and now, I am actually enjoying, intellectually and mentally, the art of growing wiser. It's like being 20 but having 40 years of wisdom and I like it! It is amazing what my brain is absorbing and what seems to be leaking out as well, and in all honesty, I am really loving this new found wisdom and exceptional perception that my fool hardy youth was unable grasp.

Unfortunately, it seems to me that I have traded the perkiness of my body for the power of wisdom.  Things are falling down at an alarming rate and all over the gawd forsaken place.  Damn the invention of the fully body mirror!

It seems that my butt now walks in sync to the steps of my feet and my once upright breasts are resembling hip waders more each day as oppose to the shoulder flotation devices they once were. What's worse is that this morning, I woke up to the horrible realization that not only do I have a double chin but there is something awkwardly dangling where my jaw line use to be!  Yup, I think it’s safe to say that I have officially entered into the “Jowl Zone”.  I suppose it is payback for all the years where I use to make fun of elderly women with their unfortunate folds of loose skin flapping in the wind.  And I suppose I made one too many jokes about their jowls being used as instrumental devices and now the Fates have decided its time for my face to play a few musical tunes of it’s own.

The wisdom of my brain is saying “it’s called growing old, just embrace the changes you weirdo” but the heart of my youth is saying “GOOD GAWD PEOPLE break out the vacuum cleaners and start sucking the danglies off my body before it’s too late!!!!”

And if that isn’t bad, I also seem to have awoken up with permanent pillow lines etched on my face (at least that is what I am calling them).  Oh the sheer horror I experienced this morning.  First I threw cold water on my face, and nope, they did not go away.  Then I stood in a shower with the water pounding on my face in the hopes that my skin would suck it all in and it would reinvigorate my youthfulness.  Nothing.  Then I pulled out the big guns and slathered on my “money back guaranteed” instant wrinkle remover. Five minutes later, I looked in the mirror and slathered on some more.  And as I was laying on my bed on my back admiring how my face was regaining its sweet innocence of youth (even though my breasts had silently rolled to the sides and fell underneath my armpits), I unfortunately sat up too quickly and was slapped literally in the face while it distorted back into the reality of looking like the beginning of a city road map!  Eeee Gads!

Wasn’t it just last year I was mistaken for the mere age of 34, and then only a couple of months ago, I was asked if I qualified for the senior’s discount at my local drugstore (although, I was asked this by a very bitter geriatric cashier, mind you).  So what gives?  And what am I doing wrong?  Have I spent too much time rattling around in my brain and nourishing it with facts and deep meaningful thoughts and new things to learn and have forgotten and neglected to spend time on my body?  Tis true, I am afraid to say.  What’s more heart wrenching is the realization that no matter how sharp your brain is, it can only go so far if the body is broken. 

In any event, while the wisdom of my brain is blaming it on my sheer lack of neglect, my youthful heart is blaming it on too much chocolate and not enough broccoli.  Maybe there is something to be said about the naivety of the youth.  Yup, too much chocolate and not enough broccoli, I like that, and that my friends is my story and I am sticking to it!  But, in the meantime, if you need directions to New York, just check out the left side of my butt cheek for road directions, there is a pretty clear indicator of which route to take!

Until Next Time.

Smooches

TO THONG OR NOT TO THONG.... that is the question my friends

This has been a question that has floated thru this addled brain of mine for years. Last night the controversy was stirred up again when I was sitting with one of my younger family members and we got to talking about them.

Oh sure, I have had my share of thongs, but I have to be honest, I have found I partially preferred thongs when they were actually a shoe you stuck on your foot as oppose to a piece of dental floss stuck between your butt. Beautiful, enticing and lacey, they always seem to call to me when I am in a lingerie aisle, those along with incredibly pretty bras have always caught my breath. And sadly, I have a whole drawer full of lace which if I calculated the cost altogether, I would venture to say that I could buy a small remote island and retire!

Anywhooo, it came to my attention last night that I may have reached the age and body where a thong should be hung up and retired. Not that it probably every looked cute on me any time in my life, but I am pretty sure that when I wear one now, I look like I am sporting a European Flag between two very large hamburger buns! Ah yes, thongs are for those perky, youthful derrieres, you know the ones I am talking about, still smooth and unblemished from years of sitting on them, from years of exercise neglect or years of exposure to sun. No matter how womanly you feel, there comes a time in every girl's life to reassess the thong and it just might be the right time to hang up that thong especially when your patooty starts to take on the distinct look of a large brick of swiss cheese.

So it is "without" great remorse that I hand over the thong torch to the next generation. I am done with the friction between my poor butt cheeks. They have done their service and now deserve comfortable cotton briefs. Besides, its not whether you wear something lacey or something cotton, just as long as you know how to rock the panties... And this chickalet can rock anything, even granny panties!

Until next time

Smooches

I AM HAVING A PARTY AND "YOU" ARE MY HONOURED GUESTS!

I am having a party on my blog for you, my fellow bloggers, in the hopes that

• you can all meet each other,
• check out each other's blog, 
• get to know each other,
• and hopefully click one or two follow buttons. 

Nope, you don't have to bring anything but yourself, a little diddy about your blog and your blog site! 

Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezies!

For the next 24 to 48 hours, I am handing over the keys to my digs! Yup, that's right! This party is for EVERYONE. And I mean everyone. From beginner bloggers to seasoned ones, from those without followers to those with thousands. Everyone is invited.

Here's the house rules:

• Leave a comment to this post with a small description of what your blog is about along with your blog address;
• Be kind and come back periodically and check out other blogs and their addresses: and
• Meet and greet and support each other.

And when you're said and done, please leave your dirty dishes by the sink, turn off the lights and lock the doors!  What?  I'm not your mother for gawdsakes!  Pick up after yourselves! :)

I so can't wait to come and meet you all too!

Oh, and why am I doing this you say? Because, sometimes we all need a little help from our friends, and every single one of you deserve to be read, appreciated and followed!

Oh, by the way, stay out of my underwear drawer while you are here! I don't want to hear about any of you running thru my place with my delicates on your heads!

And for gawd sakes, don't be shy!  Now go... meet.... mingle.... be merry! Well not too merry. Oh what the hell, be SUPER MERRY!

Smooches

PS If you have other blogger friends who wish to meet other bloggers, tell them to come and post here too. They don't have to follow me. This party is for everyone!

TIED UP IN KNOTS

I have a knotted butt cheek.  My right cheek to be exact.  And I have to say, it is driving me bonkers.  Now, I am no stranger to knots or aches or pains.  When you live with fibromyalgia, connective tissue disease and osteoarthritis, you are well versed on the subject of pain.

But I have to say, I am completely uncomfortable.  I sit all day at my job and I am wiggling around like a squirmy two year old who has to go pee.

It’s been four longs days with this goofy affliction. Last night in an attempt to get some relief, I laid on the floor with a tennis ball stuck under my buttocks.  Me and my butt rolled around on that tennis ball for a good half hour trying to release some trigger points, or any trigger point.  This was no easy feat as my pooch thought that I was playing some type of game with him and kept digging at my ass to try and retrieve the ball.  Needless to say, he won and I have the paw prints to prove it!

Later, I asked my better half to kindly take his elbow to my butt cheek in attempt to work out the dastardly knot.  And you know, you soon discover that a man really does loves you when he takes an elbow to your butt and he doesn’t considered it foreplay.  Unfortunately, the elbowing didn’t last long because, well ummm... I had eaten a bean salad for lunch and him pressing on my butt may have triggered something.  I won’t say the dreaded “f” word that so many of my followers now detest.  I will just repeat what my better half had to say: “Oh gawd gross!  Again?  What did you eat woman? Where the hell is the Fabreeze? You should have come with a warning label!”  Yes, perhaps I should have.  And then he left me lying there and went and lit a scented candle.

The rest of night kind of went like this: sit on couch and change positions every minute or so, soak in a bath tub until my body looked like shrink wrap, lay on the floor with ice pack and fight off the slobbery tongue of an adorable pooch, go to bed and sleep on heating pad until my rump roast was thoroughly cooked!

Oh yes, it’s so much fun to be me!  Now aren’t you jealous?

Until Next Time.
Smooches

GHOSTLY ENCOUNTERS

The things that are going bump in the night are starting to drive this girl batty.  For those who don’t know, I work in a haunted building.  An old Church, to be exact, that has been converted into offices.  Long lost is it's former glorious original charm, only to be replaced with screaming 70's interior decor.  Hang a disco ball, play some Bee Gee’s music and John Travolta could call it home.

Almost eleven years of working here, and I can say that I have often made peace with those who seem to live here in a shrouded form.

Usually calm and collected from my frequently and reluctantly received ghostly visits, last Friday was a reminder that even the most accepting individual of unexplained incidents can come close to peeing her big girl panties when presented with a scary moment.

Once again, I had closed up the office and waited in the downstairs foyer of the building for my better half to pick me up.  I had turned off all the lights in the building including the foyer light so that cars rushing up and down the street would not see me standing there thru a glass pane in the door.

It was, unfortunately, a big mistake.  As soon as I clicked that light switch off, I instantly heard my office chair rolling around on the floor above me.  And if that wasn't enough, filing cabinets were being opened and slammed shut at an alarming rate.  Sounds of running up and down my office hallway had me quaking at the knees.  Knowing that the building was empty and my office was alarmed, only confirmed the fact that my ghostly counter parts were having a Friday night party at the expense of my instantly greying hair.

It took all my strength to remain in the building until I was picked up.  With blustery weather and torrential rains, I weighed my option of standing outside and getting soaked to the frightening sounds above me.  Deep chanting of “come on honey, come on honey, come on honey” did nothing to soothe the multitude of fine little hairs standing on the back of my neck.

And, as if someone heard my pleas, my better half arrived.  In a matter of a second, I was out the front door and running across the street shrieking like the banshee I can be.

Sitting in the car, my better half and I witnessed a spectacular light show from my office on the top floor. Lights flicking on and off thru the entire office, left us both paralyzed with fear and wondering where the nearest drug store was for a purchase of adult size diapers.  And then in a blink, it all stopped.

Can you say future Ghost Hunters episode?  Because I can!

Until Next Time.
Smooches

THE BICYCLE BLUES

So in the quest for the YEAR OF ME and taking control of the pain and living on the healthy side of life, I thought, somewhere in my bird brain, I would chuck some cardio back into my every day life.

Don't you just love it when you think you can just pick up from where you were like three years ago?

Luckily for me, my better half works in the bike industry and hooked me up with a great little mountain bike that we set up on a trainer in the house.  He even went so far as to increase the length in my stem and handle bars so I wouldn't have to bend and strain my back so much. And bless his little heart, he got me a woman's specific seat covered in a soothing gel seat cover.  Yea for my bum!!!  Now, I was all set to go!

I had been fantasizing all about it yesterday.  So, I donned on my bike gear this morning, admired myself and thought hey I kind of look like I know what I am doing.  And then I strutted my stuff in the hopes of being the envy of my neighbourhood.  Okay, being the envy of my four walls while I sit there and peddle and watch TV, but nonetheless I could imagine the wush of the air against my face, I could dream about riding down hills with my hair blowing wildly in the wind all the while getting that rider's glow and feeling the endorphins pumping thru my body.  Oh yea, I was bringing sexy back to cycling!

Yup, it goes without saying that in my bicycle fantasy, I was looking just like this:

Sadly, I didn't even come close to looking like this:

Nope, in reality, I looked more like this:

And when I got off that damn bugger after five intensive minutes of sheer agony, I walked like I had been riding this:

And then I walked over to my bathroom, stepped on my scale, and *DAMN* I didn't even move an ounce.  So I was left with no other alternative than to do this:

And then I went down stairs and ate this:

And sadly, I am now laying down doing this:

Oh yah... I have sexy down to a science!

Until Next Time.

Smooches

STUCK IN DOWNWARD DOG

Last night was my third attempt to master the art of becoming a self aware, in tune with my inner self, at peace with the world, Yogi.  Oh I know what you are thinking, but yes, I consider this to be my third attempt.  Just because my second attempt involved me sitting on a stool watching the Yoga DVD and eating a peanut butter finger, does not mean that on some spiritual level I wasn’t involved.  Okay, I was just sitting there devouring the peanut butter finger and making faces at that damn serene Yoga instructor, but  I imagined that I was doing it, and doesn't that count for something?

After, I donned on my fancy schmancy yoga outfit consisting of a recently dinner stained tee-shirt and some over washed, use to be black, cotton pants that more resembled flood pants, and assumed the warm up position, I did what most newly formed yoga students do: I sat there contemplating whether to press the play button on the DVD player!  It's amazing how long you can stare at your ceiling in attempt to avoid exercise. After a few minutes (or perhaps longer) of debating the benefits of yoga, I pressed “play” and let out my first enormous “ohmmmmmmmm”. Perhaps, I was a tad louder than I probably should have been because in a matter of minutes the door to my sanctuary was wide open with my better half rushing in and asking if I was okay.  After I assured him I was okay, I made a mental note to myself to record my ohming in the near future as apparently I sound like cat caught in a vacuum cleaner!

I must admit, I was pretty impressed with myself since my first attempt at Yoga was much like a cow tipping incident.  Not yesterday tho, I was much like a Weeble.  I weebled and I wobbled but I didn’t fall down!  Yea for me!

After I made it thru the warm up section which involved twisting into positions and seeing body parts I had not looked at for years, it was onto the actual work out.

Now when a 6 foot, graceful, 20 year Yogi veteran goes into the 5 Star Point Goddess pose, she looks spectacularly beautiful.  But when that Yogi says “now it is your turn, spread your legs three feet apart and assume the pose” to a 5 foot bubble of lard, I can tell you the following:

1.    3 feet is over half my size, getting into a position like that looks like I am getting ready to give birth, or gawd forbid, go the bathroom in the woods; (oh how attractive) and

2.    If I got into that position, I would never get out, plus numerous parts of my body would be touching the ground, and I don’t mean my legs! Hey belly are you hearing me?

After a few minor adjustments like pulling my underwear out of my butt and stuffing the odd popping boob back into my bra, I had almost sailed thru the work out when the dreaded Downward Dog reared it’s ugly head.  After what seemed like an eternity in that one position (okay, a mere 10 seconds), I gave in and landed on the ground in an enormous self induced thud, where I  proceeded to lie and stay in a crumpled fetus like position until the deep relaxation part came on.

After the program ended, I remained in this position thinking (and most likely hoping) that the  bloody torturous DVD was done until I heard that damn, serene, legs up to my head, Yogi’s voice say: “Special Tips: If you can’t do the downward dog, perhaps try doing a half dog using the wall as support for your arms.”  Ummmm Really?  You couldn’t haven’t put this section on first prior to the program?

Oh well, I suppose there are worst things in the world then getting stuck in downward dog, me and my body don’t quite know what they are yet, but I will let you know when I figure it out.  In the meantime, i'm all about the half dog people. Oh alright, I'm all about the hot dog (with a bit of ketchup).

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

SHE FILLS ME

As I sit staring out my window once again, the beauty of the vibrant blue sky and the warmth of the glowing sun casts lovely shadows on the old gothic doors of the church across the street.  People are leisurely strolling and you can see them stretch their heads towards the sky in an attempt to feel the warmth above.  Their smiles are broad and their laughter is sweet and I am counting down the minutes when I can join playing amongst them. I am even squinting in my tiny little work space as the light is that delightfully bright.

I saw a glimpse of the spring robin today, early to say the least, but I was happy to see her nonetheless as she reminds me that my favourite season is coming forth.  The bulbs too have forgotten that we are still deeply snug in old Man Winter's grasp as they stubbornly push thru the frozen ground reminding us that we are at the mercy of Mother Nature’s desires.

A gentle wind is picking up and I see the beautiful locks of others dancing around their faces.  Oh how I love that feeling of being kissed so sweetly by a winter wind.

I worry that Mother Nature is teasing me, setting me up like last year, coming early with her beauty and warmth to pull it away for another several months.  She can be cruel like that at times.  But I forgive her because she supplies me with an endless feast for my eyes and I am unable to express how something as simple as a ladybug on a wild daisy can set my heart aflutter.  She gives me passion and compassion and sets my soul on fire where others have failed.

And while she gives her gift of beauty, I must also acknowledge that she is both relentless and unforgiving in her moody ways.  But when it is all said and done, she puts on a show like no others and she always leaves me wanting more.

She grounds me and connects me, and with a simple flower opening in full blossom, she fills me.

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

TWAS A VERY GOOD DAY!

Waking up this morning, the sky was in the midst of a torrential downpour.  Everything was wet and shiny and I couldn't stop this overwhelming feeling that today was going to be a very good day.

Myself and my better half had taken today off so that I could attend my doctor's office in another city about an hour away.  Oh yes, I know what you are thinking, and yes, there are multitudes of very capable physicians within my home town.  But my doctor and I go way back to my single early rockin' out 20's and I just couldn't part with her when I moved the hour drive away.

And I so love the drive down to see her, because I get to see this:

courtesy of the net

courtesy of the net

And I also get to see this:

courtesy of the net

courtesy of the net

courtesy of the net

And when I got thru that, I got to see this:

courtesy of the net

courtesy of the net

And after my doctor's appointment, I got to see and eat this:

courtesy of the net

And then on the way home, I got to see this:

courtesy of the net

And then when I got home, I was greeted by this:

courtesy of me and my pooch, Fred

And I saw all of it thru this:

courtesy of my face!

Yup, twas a very good day!

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

OH SPRING, HOW I AWAIT YOU...

Staring out the window of my office, my eyes numbingly gaze at the grey dreary light of winter.  The only speck of colours I see are from various vehicles traveling up and down the street and even they are dulled by the gritty kiss of the road.  The sky blends into the roof tops and I am openly searching for the warmth of the sun.

The west coast weather is unpredictable per usual.  Beautiful blue skies one day, oppressive dark mood altering skies the next.

The colour, grey, makes me tired and fatigued.  And I fight my desire to hide beneath the warmth of my cozy duvet. 

I am counting down the hours until I am home where I will literally undress as I am walking thru the door in a search for my warm-filled pajamas.  I am longing to turn on the fireplace and stretch lazily out on my couch where my lovely pooch will snuggle upon my chest and we will blissfully doze together only to be disturbed by volume changes on the ever annoying television.

My better half will flop down beside us and we will sit contentedly together exchanging only a few moments of verbiage.

Undoubtedly, I detest this time of the year as it adds to the difficulty in keeping my uneven moods above water.  I spend the majority of the year struggling to resemble the person I was before chronic pain entered my life, compound that with dreary weather and I am unsure why my better half does not detest my presence.

I count through the months like a game of hide and seek, and hope that when I reach the number 10 and turnaround, spring will be blooming it’s magnificent foliage of colour.  Glorious spring with it’s beautiful flowers heavy in blossom and drenched in their own delicate perfume.  I cannot wait to observe the bees madly buzzing through my lavender, ladybugs landing on my cherry blossom tree, the honeysuckle sprouting forth and soft blue skies with pillow like clouds. I long to hear the Robin singing her beautiful tune with various other birds lyrically answering her call.  The thought of sitting on my bench gazing into nowhere on a cool spring evening as my neighbourhood goes silent, sends thrilling chills up and down my spine in anticipation. 

I seem to come alive with every flower that awakens.  My soul is bursting and I want to cornily break out in song.  Dress me up like Maria Von Trapp and I am sure that I will belt out “The Hills Are Alive.”

Oh yes Spring, you are my very favourite season.

And oh how I await your arrival.

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches.