Skip to content

It’s crowded down there

You know that seam on your sock that runs across the top of your toes?  I really don’t like that seam.  It bugs me. My toes get claustrophobic. So I wear my socks inside out. That way I can’t feel the seam; it doesn’t crowd my toes. An easy solution unless the sock has a really cool design on it.  Wearing really-coolly-designed socks inside out distorts the design and the sock’s coolness factor. So every day I must decide:  Claustrophobic toes? Or uncool socks?  I know. It’s a real problem.


Tacky is good

I like Christmas. I just don’t like spending a lot for a gift that no one needs. That’s why I’m a fan of the white elephant gift exchange. Buy a $5 gift. The tackier the better. Disguise it in a lovely box with paper and ribbon. The results can be very funny. At a recent party my tacky gift was a box of chocolates. “Not so tacky” you may be thinking. But I took a small bite out of each piece before I wrapped it. Very tacky. Very funny. And only $5.

(I walked away with a dozen foam cows. Score! I love cows. The perfect tree ornament.)

Christmas Cows

This is real? Really?

If those women on Bravo TV accurately represent “real” housewives in Miami, Atlanta, Beverly Hills etc., then I forbid my daughter to ever move to Miami, Atlanta, Beverly Hills etc. 

How can I help you?

Whenever I see a “No Cell Phone” sign posted at a cash register I get a tad uncomfortable. I mean, is it appropriate to give a directive like this to someone who is about to hand you a wad of cash or plastic?

But my discomfort pales in comparison to how I felt during a recent visit to a doctor’s office. Hanging on the wall above the receptionist’s window were six distinct, fully-engraved signs:

  • If you are more than 20 minutes late you will have to reschedule.
  • If your insurance has changed please let us know.
  • A charge of $30 will be made on returned checks.
  • Co-pays must be paid before you see the doctor.
  • Notify us of any change in address.
  • Turn off your cell phone.

It left me wondering: Should I draw my own blood too? Send it to the lab? Mail myself the bill?

Tapping my inner resources

I’ve been interested in learning how to meditate. The experts say it will help me find lasting peace of mind. So I picked up a couple of books from the library and yesterday got started. Step one – a simple relaxation technique. I lie on my back, close my eyes, focus on breathing. Then I mentally scan my body for tension.

Twenty seconds in, my elbow itches. I stop to scratch. OK, return to position. Start over. Deep breaths. Now my scalp itches. When was the last time I washed my hair? Simultaneously I need to scratch my foot. I should put lotion on my feet. Or maybe I need a humidifier. Where’s that humidifier I bought last year? I wonder if it still works. The instructions said to clean it periodically and I never did. Why do I buy things and then not care for them properly? I’m wasting my money. I need to earn more money. Where can I find more work?

I knew meditation wouldn’t work for me.

Running responsibly

I’m pretty pumped these days because I joined a running group. So you can call me a “runner” even though it’s more like a slow jog. A very slow jog. Sometimes walkers pass me on the street. Oh, and every few minutes I need to stop and walk for a bit to catch my breath. But you can call me a runner please.

When it rains I go to the gym and run on the treadmill. With my favorite 60s tunes streaming through my iPod, I crank the treadmill to a blazing 4.4.  I’m feeling pretty puffed up. I’m a runner. That’s when some whippersnapper steps on the treadmill next to me. Within a minute they’re at 6.5. Within three minutes their sweat is flying my way.

An exhaustive 15 minutes and my workout is complete. I follow protocol and wipe down my treadmill with antiseptic spray. We runners do that. At least all we “responsible” runners do that. And here’s what irks me…those sweaty gym rats who leave their treadmills all damp and smelly with no regard for the next guy. I don’t want your body fluids all over my hands. I can’t afford to get sick. I’m following a strict training regimen. I’m a runner.

Looking for la-la land

So I’m watching one of those HGTV shows last night where the young newly-married couple is shopping for their starter mansion.  You’ve seen these people. The poor realtor can’t seem to find a suitable estate for their $650,000 budget. A bathroom with only one sink? Unthinkable. Just one fireplace? You’re joking. And if those countertops aren’t granite, well, just don’t waste their time. The 20′ x 20′ master isn’t big enough. The back forty isn’t green enough. And the bonus room isn’t bonus-y enough for the lavish lifestyle they’ve planned. He wants a man cave. She wants a spa. Let’s hope they don’t want children.