Be a Pineapple: Stand Tall, Wear a Crown and Be Sweet Inside.


Monday, May 23, 2016

The Grandson Borrows My Car For the First Time

The Weekend Report:

Saturday night was the Banquet for the Theater Group at the High School the Grandson belongs to.  It was from 6:30 to 12:00 and the location was not to far, if I were driving, but I let the Grandson use my car for the first time.  It was a long, long night.

- First off, I picked him up and we came back to my house so he could drop me off.  It started pouring when we were two blocks from my house.  We pulled up out front and I jumped out and ran to the house.  The rain was pelting me.  I had the dog in one hand and my purse in the other.  Got to the door - and no key.  My house key was on the key ring and I forgot where I hid the extra key outside because I've never had to use it.  So I call the Grandson to come back.  He comes back, runs upstairs in the pouring rain, unlocks the door and runs off.

- First panic for the night.  I don't want him driving in the rain even if it is 5:00 and bright outside.

- Then, at 5:55 he calls me, he is lost and the Garmin sent him to the wrong place.  Possible but probable?  Why is he even there so early?  Too excited I guess.  I try to tell him how to turn around and go back because he passed the main street.  He is in panic mode at this time.  So I tell him to try to get directions off his phone. Oh, and he had a low tire and he had to stop and put air in it.

He sends me a text 10 minutes later - he is there.

- Next he calls me about 9:30.  He tried to start the car because he left something in the car and wants to turn on the lights.  First he gets a lecture about why is  he in the parking lot and not in the Banquet Hall.  Then I stop to listen to the problem.  The key won't go all the way in the ignition and if it does nothing happens.

I didn't think to ask him if the steering wheel was locked.  I haven't done that in years so I forgot that it does that extra lock the wheel business.  So I told him to leave it for an hour and go back and try

- My second panic attack.  I forgot to give him extra money.  If the car won't start he won't have money for a cab.  He'll have to get a ride.  Will someone help him?  The teacher surely.  And what will happen to my car if it stays there over night?  How will I get back in the fenced area for the Hall?  (Insert: stomach tightening and feeling a little nauseous).

- An hour later he calls me back.  A couple of friends went out to the car with him.  One of them has the same steering wheel lock on her car.  Press the brake, turn the wheel and use the key.

I get a text everything ok.  The car started.  I only have an hour and a half to worry and this night will be over.

- Now its 12:00.  Text saying he is leaving.  He doesn't tell me this at the time but he couldn't get the car to start.  Key turned but no turnover.  He remembered that sometimes I have to giggle the wire to the battery.  (I know.  I should have fixed that before he left.  All I have to do is find some pliers.  Brother. Mad at myself.)  So he jiggled the wire and the car started.  He is now the last person beside his teacher but I don't know all this yet.

- We had agreed before he left that (1) no one would ride in the car with him this time and (2) he would take a picture of himself inside the house when he got home so I would know he was really home.  No.  It is not that I do not trust him. I do not trust his Father as a teenager and he carries that man's genes.

I receive a picture of him in his room.  He's really home. Not dead on the street. No accident.  No one is going to sue me for letting a new driver out on the street.

- I called him after I got the picture to ask if he had a good time.  He sounded like he was bummed out.  I asked if it went well and he said yes he had a really good time he was just tired from the Banquet and all the car worries

- I texted with my daughter the next morning and asked her to find out if he had a good time.  She texted me back that he said best time ever.  Thank goodness,

-  After all that worry I would have been extremely unhappy if he had not enjoyed himself.  But.... no, no, no .... the story is not over.

- When he called me the next morning to see if I wanted him to bring the car back, I told him to go check and see if the tire was flat.  It was.

I called my daughter to ask for her help because she wasn't home and she reminded me I had AAA.  Hallelujah.  I called. They were there in an hour.  The spare was good (can I get an Amen) and the car was all ready for the road again.

- But before the car is on the road, when the Grandson is standing outside waiting for the tow people he notices that the little triangle window in the back passenger window has been knocked out.  I usually leave my old car unlocked because I'd rather they open the door and look around, rather than knock out the window.  However, I told the Grandson to keep the doors locked that night while he was driving so it was still locked and there was an empty box in the back seat that they probably wanted to check out.

- We don't know if this happened at the Banquet Hall or parked at the house.  My daughter has lived at the house for over a year and no one has had a car break in as far as she knows.

So my sweet little neighbor duck-taped it up for me and after I get the tire repaired or replaced, I'll worry about it.

That is the story of  my weekend - the first time I let the Grandson borrow my car - and it is a heck of a story.  I'm sure it will be told and retold over family holidays.

Saturday, May 21, 2016

My Not So Sweet Cat

Sachi Marie Miller   RIP   16 yeras

Friday, May 20, 2016

If You Are Thinking About Moving

Some of you crazy kids have got the moving bug.  You are downsizing, moving closer to the kids or trying a new area of the country.

Others, like myself, don't know where you'd go if you went but somehow know this is the time you are supposed to make a move.

I read this article in the NY Times that I wanted to share.  It is called A Tiny Home by Choice.

It does start with a NY couple choosing one of those tiny apartments but I read it from the angle of making a choice on where you want to be.

I thought it was interesting and it is a quick read.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Remember ...

Ok with my knees I may be doing the booty wiggle and toe tap but the music is still in my soul.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016


Ok, this may be more of a ladies post but it is intended as a discussion of the display of breasts.

Now every woman had some kind of fantasy about breasts growing up - not the kind you boys had either.  We waited and waited for them to arrive.  Wondered what it would be feel like.  Wonder what we would look like.

Some of us wished for bigger and better.  Some wished what they had would go away so people would quit looking (as in "My eyes are up here").  Others just could not have cared less.

Finally we got them.

Then came the 60s and 70s and we wanted to throw away the bras we had waited so long to attain.  We wanted to be free.  And at that point it probably didn't make any difference to our young erect figures.

Then we got older.  Maybe we nursed babies.  Maybe we gained and lost weight. Maybe the braless years helped gravity along and our breasts were no longer their bouncing upright selves.

Flip the calendar another decade or two and the darn things are nearly dragging on the ground.  Well you've have to be well endowed for that but still - the air has left the breasts.

Also during all this time, the use of different inventions to enlarge, uplift, downsize and change breasts in some manner became available to the common woman. We've all seen pictures of women who took it too far.  And yet we've all known someone with a boyish figure who was able to get enough shape to soothe those years of longing.

So now I've seen and heard of just about everything on the subject of women's breasts - including the healthy (?) research I did as a youngster in National Geographic.

So why do we need to display so much cleavage in every picture you see in print or on screen.  I understand that everybody is not 66 years old and has had what feels like a millennium of dealing with breasts.

You have some families like the Duggars that are covered head to toe.  You have other families like the Kardashians who are vying among themselves to see who can show the most cleavage (and other parts).

I'm not a 16 year old boy.  I don't want to see your naked body.  Your breasts may be bigger, smaller, rounder, firm, perkier and painted purple.  Don't care.  Don't want to see them.

You are on the red carpet, I'm not watching you to see your breasts.  I want to see your dress, your hairstyle, even your answers to hopefully not inane questions.

You are in a bathing suit, ok skimpy.  You are nursing, ok in my book.  You pose for a how to do a self examine.  You are the subject of reconstruction surgery, maybe a cancer survivor and want to share the hope with others, more power to you. I'm sure there are many more reasons that don't come immediately to my mind.

So why is it that breasts continue to be the focus of pictures.  Is it just that there is a continuous stream of folks behind us that haven't seen enough of breasts? As baby boomers there are large numbers of folks in our age group.  Am I  the only one tired of seeing breasts?  Are breasts the new beauty.  Why, if our purchasing power is so strong, are the advertisers not aware that this is not our number one interest.

I grew up in the 60s and 70s so I strutted my stuff.  I showed a little more than my mother would have allowed at times.  I probably would have streaked if I weren't so basically modest.  I'm not a prude.  I'm just tired of seeing breasts.

I'm just ranting.  Its the Cannes film festival time.  I do this every time there is an awards season.  I don't watch any of the awards programs.  They are just too long and wordy for me now.  I admit, however, I do like to look at the pretty dresses though.  Some I admire - like Blake Lively.  Some not so much - like the Kardashians.

Rant over.

Monday, May 16, 2016

How to Take a Perfect Selfie

I am one of those crazy persons that loves to take the on-line and magazine tests that tell you about yourself.  Are you married to the right man (hey I'm not even married)? What animal were you in your last life?  Where is the best place for you to live/retire?

Of course we all know that such decisions cannot be based on the answer to 6 questions.  I know.  I know.  But I do  it anyway.  They are all over facebook and I take the majority and then share that "I was a Skunk in my Last Life."

I also read my horoscope occasionally and if it says money is coming your way, I run out and buy a lotto ticket.  Hey for a dollar I don't want to thumb my nose at fate.

I also read about what diet is best for you.  No.  I rarely try them but I do read all of the details.  Ha.  More insight into me.

I also love all those systems having to do with what style you wear, what colors look best on you and what hobbies will interest a curmudgeon.

One of  they systems I like is Dressing Your Truth.  Carol Tuttle has so many videos and I love to see the difference it make in other women.  As for me, I'm can't figure out my type.

Anyway, I was reading something today and I came across a video she posted on How to Take a Selfie.  I've got this fancy phone and I am still learning and trying to take a decent Selfie just in case I want to share a place or time with someone.

Most of the time my phone is in the middle of my chin when I take a Selfie.  Or you can tell I'm in the bathroom.  Do I have any shame?  Or I cut my head off and heaven forbid I got my whole body in it.  Long story short, I saw this video by Carol Tuttle and for those of you who are still trying to figure out Selfies like me, this video has pretty simple directions.

I couldn't find it on YouTube so here is the link to the video on her blog.


And if you're thinking I'm (I'm referring to you,  not me) too old or I look to raggedy, etc.  Forget it.  You need to leave your grandchildren a legacy of your life:  Your garden, your favorite pillow or decorations, a dumb hairstyle or a day you looked the best you are ever going to look.  They all count because all of it makes you who you are and the person they will remember.

I even went so far as getting 150 of my favorite pictures of our family printed during a Snap Fish special and the girls spend hours looking at the photo album when they come over.

The truth is I did this so they wouldn't sit in my lap and go through every picture I have on my computer and .... wait for it ....  then start all over at the beginning.

I mean, anybody that shares pictures of their orange/red hair dye mistakes is someone willing to stick their neck out and laugh at themselves.

I love this picture of my sitsters, cousin and myself playing Twister.  This is a perfect example of why we need to take dumb pictures.  They are soooo cute.

Thanks for popping in.

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Watching Old Movies on TMC

I'm having a lazy morning drinking coffee and watching TMC (tv channel).  I'm sure you've heard of this channel that shows all of the best of the old movies - and some you couldn't pay me to watch.  LOL.

I turned it on near the end of Going My Way with Bing Crosby.  What a sweet, sweet movie.  Is there anyone like Bing Crosby with his soft smile and crooning voice. Here is what Wikipedia says about the movie:

Going My Way is a 1944 American musical comedy-drama film directed by Leo McCarey and starring Bing Crosby and Barry Fitzgerald. Based on a story by Leo McCarey, the film is about a new young priest taking over a parish from an established old veteran. Crosby sings five songs in the film.[2] Going My Waywas followed the next year by a sequel, The Bells of St. Mary's.

Going My Way was the highest-grossing picture of 1944, and was nominated for 10 Academy Awards, winning 7, including Best Picture.[3] Its success helped to make movie exhibitors choose Crosby as the biggest box-office draw of the year,[4][5] a record he would hold for the remainder of the 1940s. After World War II, Bing Crosby and Leo McCarey presented a copy of the motion picture to Pope Pius XII at the Vatican.

You can watch the full movie for free on YouTube if you are interested.

And, of course, this movie was followed by The Bells of St. Marys in 1945 with Crosby and Ingrid Bergman.

Next on the movie channel was Where the Boys Are.  Here is the Wikipedia description:

Where the Boys Are (1960) ... about four Midwestern college co-eds who spend spring break in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. The title song "Where the Boys Are" was sung by Connie Francis, who also co-starred in a supporting role. The film was aimed at the teen market, featuring sun, sand and romance. Released in the wintertime, it inspired thousands of additional American college students to head to Fort Lauderdale for their annual spring break. (Staring Connie FrancisDolores HartPaula PrentissGeorge HamiltonYvette MimieuxJim HuttonFrank Gorshin.)

Where the Boys Are was one of the first teen films to explore adolescent sexuality and the changing sexual morals and attitudes among American college youth. It won Laurel awards for Best Comedy of the Year and Best Comedy Actress (Paula Prentiss).

I was 10 when this movie came out.  I'm sure I didn't see it until many years later but it still affected my view of what teenage years would be like.  The song Where the Boys Are, sung by Connie Francis, is probably one of the dreamiest songs of the time.  The music was written by Neil Sedaka so of course it was good.

In 1963 Dolores Hart left the big screen and Hollywood during a very successful career to become a Roman Catholic Nun.

This was also the first pairing of Paula Prentiss and Jim Hutton.  Prentiss was about 5'10", tall for an actress at that time, and Hutton was 6'5".

Yvette Mimieux.  I can say nothing but so sad.

George Hamilton.  He was very handsome in this time before orange tans.

Two totally different times in our country.  Two totally different movies.

Going My Way made me laugh and cry.  Such a wonderful movie.

Where the Boys Are, I remember thinking was an example of what my teenage world would be like.  Haha.  Not even.  Never made it to Fort Lauderdale or that kind of spring break ever.  This movie did put the Beware of Boys notion into my head.  Well, that movie and my "I'll open the door for your date" Dad.

Happy Sunday.

Friday, May 13, 2016

I Love A Shower

Yes.  The new diagnosis made me sad.  Thanks for your kind words.  All Baby Boomers are in the same boat headed down the river of No Return.  We will all get to the end.  It is just that some will get there earlier.  Who knows, I could live with this and prosper for a long, long time.  I just had to take a day to  process it. To accept that there is another alligator in the river to watch out for.  The important thing is to enjoy the ride, look at the beautiful scenery and let the sun shine on your face.  'Nuf said.

What I really want to talk about is a shower.  I have a little routine in the mornings.  I set up my coffee pot each night so that my coffee is ready when I get up.  One of my great delights - which are few and far between - is to wake up before the coffee pot and turn it on.  I have such a hard time waking up in the morning that when I am able to get up before the programmed time, it is a High Five day.

I make my coffee, pick up my phone to check for messages, let Buddy out and settle into my recliner with my laptop.  I read my messages, some of the blogs I follow and drink coffee.

Sometime during the second cup my coffee needs are saturated.  I get up, lock the door - remember Psycho - and head for the shower.  I turn on the hot water and make my bed while the shower is steaming up.  And then I'm ready to enjoy. I know it is a mental thing more than a physical thing, but it is still my thing.

I wish I had one of those magical rain-making shower heads or a fancy head to turn it from soft to muscle relaxing jets.  I have a nice, moderately priced shower head. Don't remember the brand.  I have gone through several.  I can never get them cleaned out good enough once the hard water sets in so I consider yearly shower heads a necessary expense.

The funny thing is that after the build up and anticipation, my showers are relatively short.  When I first moved here I was conscious of the free water I receive.  And since we know I love my yard, I also wanted to have enough water to water my plants without sending  my landlord's water bill sky high.  So I got in the habit of a short, but efficient, shower.

My hair is short so it doesn't take but a minute to wash.  I don't usually use conditioners but when I do I usually do it in the kitchen sink so I can give the conditioner time to set in.

I think I've mentioned before that I use Oil of Olay hand soap for bathing and face washing because my body legs and arms have become so dry from the diabetes and aging.

I do like good smelling liquid soaps and I have half a dozen that I keep by the tub to treat myself.  They are a great little pick me up when you are having a blah day and sometimes I use them just before bed to give me a sweet smelling send off.  Yes there is often a second and sometimes third shower of the day. Yard work or summer dog walks often require a quick clean and the third shower is often just for those stressful days when your muscles need to relax before sleep will come.

However, the purpose of my early shower is strictly a wake up process.  It signals to my body that the day is about to begin.

Out of the shower, feeling fresh and awake, I'll  find Buddy sitting on my bed watching me.  He knows this is the real start of the day and he gets excited.  My body is feeling alive and my mind has kicked into gear.

I don't always dress and leave the house but I do dress for the day.  I usually go back to my computer and start reading blogs.  It is like just checking in with a friend to see what is new.  I don't really know any of you, but I feel like I do.  I know your kids or grand kids.  I know if you are on vacation or writing a book.  I know about your health problems or those of your family or friends.  We share a lot in our blogs and I think it fills those little exchanges I once shared with friends at my office, or the soccer field, etc.  The blogs I follow have become part of my tribe.  I even share your stories with friends as a sign of success that can be had, or things to watch out for, or interesting news I have learned.

The shower sets me up for this.  I am alive and awake and ready to listen and learn.  Some would say that time is wasted on the internet.  I would say it has it's place and it's use.  It keeps my world bigger than this little room.  It keeps me experiencing things I would not try on my own.

And, like today, I feel those pats on the back that are your replies that say - this too shall pass - and it will get better again.

Thanks for sharing my little world and sharing your world with me. I'm awfully glad to have you here.

Thursday, May 12, 2016

I Feel Sad

I feel sad because I am getting older.  I am 66, not really old as old goes, but I know a lot of people that are already dead at my age. 

I don’t really worry about dying.  I hope it has the least amount of pain possible.  I hope I don’t linger and cause a lot of hassle for my children. 

Sometimes I hope I know in advance so I can say goodbye to my friends and family.  Sometimes I hope I go quickly so it is done and over. 

Yesterday I went to the endocrinologist for my diabetes checkup.  I started with her maybe 9 months ago after I was receiving Medicare and thought I could afford the continuous checkups diabetes requires. 

Every time I have seen her we have adjusted my insulin because my blood sugar would not level out.  The first big surprise was that I was rediagnosed with adult onset Type 1 instead of Type 2, which is more common. 

Yesterday she told me that I am a Brittle Type 1 which means my blood sugar won’t stay balanced.  I have big swings and although I have done pretty well following my diet and insulin injections the numbers continued to jump. 

Now I know the jumping numbers were not my fault.  I have long accepted that diabetes was not my fault.  My grandmother’s sister, my mother and now I have it.  My grandmother’s mother also died shortly after she was born which I have always wondered if gestational diabetes was a cause or at least a factor. 

Both my mother and grandmother died of cancer, different cancers. I guess I should be worried about that more than the diabetes but I’m not. 

My son just stopped by and I talked to him about how he needs to watch himself and his children.  He is nearing 40 and 50s is when many are diagnosed with adult onset or Type 2.  Of course, he is too busy, too invincible.  So was I. 

I am just sad.  My body is an engine that is wearing out.  One week I need a new carburetor, the next time a new fan belt.  However, like my 1996 Nissan, I intend to keep running with adjustments and new parts as needed.