Whimsical Observations on Life

The holidays are over. And if you’re lucky, your home is once again quiet. No more relatives to entertain. Everyone has hit the airports and made their way through TSA. It’s just you and the immediate family. And the Aunts. Oh, I mean, the ants. What? You don’t have ants at your house. Tell me your secret. Clearly, I have a lot to learn.

Is that a Bee or a Wasp?

Now just to clarify, I’m not afraid of bugs. That would be silly. So what if I run away when a bee shows up? I know bees pollinate flowers and produce honey. Somewhere. I’d just prefer nature’s miracle to happen when I’m not outside. My great nephew Kaden, as a young child, use to cry out “bee, bee, bee” and point at the sky. I think he learned that panicked cry from his mother. As for me, the adult, I affected a quiet dignity, wildly swatting the air as I ran about, tripping over myself in a desperate attempt to escape.

Please Pass the Potato Salad

Back to the ants. For some odd reason, they’ve shown up in my office.  And, no. I don’t eat in my office. Well, at least, not very much. A cookie, now and then. A candy bar, on special occasions. But not more than that. And what’s strange is, we’ve been in this home for twelve years. Never had an ant problem before. Now, it’s like a summer picnic without hot dogs, cole slaw, and potato salad. So, of course, I contacted an exterminator. He’s been here three times. We’ve become fast friends. If the ants don’t clear out, I’m thinking of inviting his whole family over for Sunday dinner. We’ll hold it in my office. Does anyone still do Sunday dinner?

Talk About Unwelcomed Guests

I’ve sealed every crack. I’ve moved the furniture to see if I could find out where they are coming in. I’ve sat watching the walls, waiting for the ants to show up so I could find the point of entry. In my next life, I’m coming back as a border patrol agent. In short, I’ve shifted into an OCD mess. Killing them, wiping the walls down with vinegar until my office smells like a salad, and following every possible suggestion on the Web for eliminating the pests. So far, the battle is still being waged. The ants seem to be winning.

It Just Doesn’t Seem Fair

And still, they’re walking across my desk. I just found one as I’m writing this blog. It’s like I’m sitting on top of an ant hill. I’ve changed Pest Control companies twice. Talk about the great bait and switch. If I could, I’d move. But that seems a bit extreme. So I’ve decided to focus on the positive. What little boy doesn’t want to own an ant farm? And isn’t it true that ants are attracted to sweets? So, I must be very sweet. But then, we already know that. What do you mean you didn’t know that?

And Now for Something A Little Extra!

If you haven’t grabbed a copy of my debut novel The Intersect, this is your chance to check out a free excerpt. The novel has 4.3 out of 5 stars and 140 reviews on Amazon. Definitely an enjoyable read – even if I say so myself.  And before I forget, thank you for welcoming me into your home every month. Wishing you and your family the very best of 2023. And always, happy reading!

Does anyone do romance anymore? Now, I’m not talking about reading romance novels. Yes, that’s enjoying romance, but it isn’t particularly romantic. You’re watching the action from a distance instead of participating in it. And if you’re alone, well, that isn’t romantic. At least not to me.

Someone Light the Candles

In our house, we eat dinner together every night. And after thirty-two years, a lit match has never touched the tip of a candle when we’ve dined at home. Having friends in? Sure. We’ll light a candle for the table and dim the lights. But when it’s just us? Nope. Candles are strictly for guests.

Dancing

So when was the last time someone took you in their arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you gently swayed to Sinatra? You don’t like Sinatra? Okay. Substitute your favorite singer or band. See. What did I tell you? It’s been a long time. Unless you’ve recently been to a wedding or a bar mitzvah, no one dances together anymore. Certainly not at our house. And a wedding doesn’t count. You dance at a wedding because you don’t want to upset the happy couple. You dance at a bar mitzvah because the hora is “mandatory” participation. Besides, no one ever felt romantic as they wildly circled a room holding hands with Uncle Leo and Aunt Gert. The hora is just not a romantic dance.

Old Movies

On the Turner Classic Movies channel, every film seems to capture a moment of pure romance when the heroine turns to the hero and utters, “Darling, I love you.” It’s something you’ll never hear in a modern film or in everyday life, unless, God forbid, you’re on your deathbed. Is that because the word “darling” has also gone out of fashion? Or was romance always a Hollywood invention created to entrap audiences in absurd fantasy?

We’re Just Too Busy

It’s sad that romantic love has gone the way of the ripped bodice. Today, we’re all too busy to luxuriate in fanciful notions. And yet, I have to admit that every now and then, when I’m with my husband doing something we both love, like going out for ice cream, a romantic spark is lit. There’s an energy that passes between us. We’re in the right place at the right time and with the right person. Eating the right food!

New Definition?

Maybe, that’s what romance is all about. Not about the atmosphere or setting, but about the personal connection. The yen to be together. If that’s so, romance is still very much alive in our house. Just give us a bowl of ice cream and click on our favorite television show.  I feel a “would you like whipped cream?” question coming on. That’s our version of,  “Darling, I love you.”

And Now, For Something a  Little Extra

I’ll be participating in a Literary, Historical, and Book Club Fiction Giveaway. It’s your chance to win an eReader and a bundle of books, including my debut novel The Intersect. If you get a moment, please check it out. And until we meet again, have a great rest of the month!

The truth is, I’m not a great cook. I’m not even skilled at manning the outdoor grill. That said, I’ve still learned a few things over the years about cooking. So here are my best tips for the kitchen.

1. It’s hard to ruin an Italian meal. Anything smothered in parmesan, romano, or provolone, can’t be bad.
2. Butter beats margarine. Margarine beats lard. Lard beats chicken fat. Does anyone still use chicken fat?
3. Fish is best when fresh. If the fish smells, think twice. If it winks at you, switch to chicken.
4. The refrigerator needs to be cleaned often. And that plant growing in the vegetable drawer doesn’t need to be watered.
5. No matter what Ina Garten promises, popovers don’t always rise.
6. A shiny red Kitchen Aid food processor signals you’re a master chef. Best to tuck it away in the closet so dinner guests aren’t disappointed.
7. It’s still considered cooking if you prepare a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As long as you held the knife, you did the work.
8. Chocolate malteds are a wonderful way to fight depression. Just ask anyone who loves Culvers, Dairy Queen, or Baskin Robbins.
9. Casseroles make excellent entrees when you have guests over. They don’t see you make them. They don’t know what’s in them. And they have no idea how they should taste. Win, win, win!
10. Leftovers are only good for a day or two. Three days, max. After that, be warned. You dine at your own risk.

Now, Something a Little Extra!

This month, I will be participating in a Book Cave Adventure Giveaway which offers you the opportunity to win a gift card to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or iTunes, and an eBook of my second novel, After the Fall. Please take a moment to check it out here. And enjoy October!

It’s odd, but when you grow up in an urban setting like New York City, wide-open spaces can be a bit unnerving. Now, I’m not talking about a park. Heck, New York has lots of parks. I’m really thinking about the heartland of America. Where the rest stops are few and far between. Where vegetables grow out in the open for everyone to see. Fast forward: Rapid City, South Dakota. The home of Mount Rushmore. Our most recent vacation destination.

Beauty Everywhere!

Years ago, when I worked in healthcare, I traveled throughout the Midwest. Not the hot spots, like Chicago, St. Louis, and Minneapolis. More like Mason City, Sioux City, and Spencer, Iowa. Not many people visit those places. And even though the town folks are hospitable, the sightseeing is a bit limited. But, there’s a good reason why it’s considered God’s country. It gets very dark at night. So dark and quiet, you might find yourself praying. Especially, if you’re like me and find comfort in the presence of other people. Not that I want to socialize. Remember, writers are loners. But, where there are lots of people, there’s safety in numbers. Think of an African Safari. There’s a good reason animals gather in herds!

Rapid City

Welcome to Rapid City. We’re here to visit Mount Rushmore and do all the wonderful things I’ve read about in the guidebooks. Well, actually, I don’t read guidebooks. Jeff does. I just go along and pretend I know what’s going on. Anyhoo – it’s lovely. An assortment of motel chains to fit any budget lies just outside downtown. But wait. The city is only a couple of blocks. Huh? And there are lots of open spaces. Hmm. And the downtown stores are closed on Sunday. A cold chill runs down my spine.

New York City

It’s hard to experience nature’s beauty if you’ve been raised in New York City. Oh, I know. New York is an exciting place. Lots to do. The arts, the theater. And whenever I’m there, I hum Eva Gabor’s lament from Green Acres: “I just adore a penthouse view. Darling, I love you, but give me Park Avenue.” But the problem with New York is that no one can afford the penthouse. Or the townhouse. Or the two-bedroom one-bath apartment. The closest to nature is a visit to Central Park. And let’s be honest. It’s crowded and dirty. The last time I was there, some very gritty people were living under a tree.

My Mantra

So, instead of being freaked out, I will enjoy the views of South Dakota. The rolling hills. The Harley-Davidson motorcycle gangs roaming the highways. They may look dangerous, but I know they’re really dentists and lawyers dressed up in leather and chains on a weekend spree. I’ll watch for cows and horses. There are sure to be a few along the way. And when we reach the park, I’m ready to marvel at Mount Rushmore, even though I’ve seen it up close in the Alfred Hitchcock movie North by Northwest. What do you mean that was a Hollywood set? Ugh. Another illusion shattered.

And Now, for Something a Little Extra!

This month, we’ll be participating in a Personal Essays and a Slice of Life promotion for What’s That Growing in My Sour Cream? If you have a moment, please check it out, and enjoy the rest of your September!

Times have certainly changed since the days of our parents. We’ve all become much more casual in our attire. If you don’t believe me, just buy a plane ticket and check out the outfits being paraded. Everything from sweat pants to pajamas. Everyone wants to be comfortable even though the seats are anything but comfortable. Cramped spaces, crowded overheads, and filthy facilities. I guess casual makes sense. But is there a limit to how you might show up in public? Based on what I’m seeing, not really.

Who Cares What You’re Wearing?

Maybe, the only one who truly cares is your mother. Years ago, I joined my parents for dinner at a restaurant in Manhattan. My Mom asked, “Do you think you’ll ever wear a sports coat?” Back then, I didn’t even own a sports coat. Only business suits. And I certainly wasn’t going to wear a suit on the weekend. Today, my business suits are history. I now own a sports coat, but I can’t remember the last time I wore it. To me, a sports coat is reserved for special occasions, like funerals and weddings. But not necessarily in that order.

“Sir, You Can’t Wear Sneakers Here.”

In the mid-1980s, I tried on two separate occasions to have brunch with my family at Windows on the World at the top of the World Trade Center. Each time, I was stopped by a guard before getting on the elevator. Who knew there was a dress code for Sunday brunch? Not me. And now that I think back on it, I’m sad I never got to see the restaurant. Sad, and a little grateful. I’m not sure that particular memory would have served me well considering the horror of 9/11.

Tuxedo

For men, there is nothing more uncomfortable than black-tie. The shirts are stiff and who came up with the bright idea of a cummerbund, a wide belt strapped across a man’s bulging gut? French cuffs and cufflinks are a breeze to get on compared to the bow tie. Somebody, please explain why anyone would want to wear an outfit that requires so much help to get into.

 Still…

When you live in Phoenix, most people have access to a pool, and based on what I’ve seen, swimwear is not exactly slim wear. And I’m talking about the images I see of myself reflected in the windows of the backyard. It seems the tighter the bathing suit, the less flattering. The looser the bathing suit, the less flattering. In fact, there are some objects of clothing that’ll never work unless you’re a fitness model. Can you say, Dad bod?

Now, for Something a Little Extra!

In August, we will be participating in a Literary Fiction Giveaway. If you haven’t grabbed a copy of The Intersect, this is your chance for a free ebook. Please take a moment to check it out. And enjoy the rest of August!

When you grow up in an NYC apartment building, you learn to cope with bugs. There is no other choice. There are bugs everywhere. Oh sure, your mother does her best to plug every conceivable hole, and that works well to keep the mice out. But the bugs? Those sneaky devils can arrive through the pipes. And let’s face it. There is nothing to be done when a large brown water bug chases you into the living room. Those suckers are fast. You better run!

Summer is Here

So, I’m not surprised that living in Phoenix with the summer heat, we have critters fighting to get inside. And who can blame them? I want to be inside too. And though it’s a dry heat (we love saying that in Phoenix), when it’s 110 degrees out, all bets are off. 110 is ungodly hot. Even without humidity. It’s just too much. You can try to explain it away, but unless you’re sitting in your pool, you really can’t be outside. And if you’re outside, well, you lose the right to complain about bugs. Or do you?

Why are Wasps Circling the Pool?

I’m afraid of bees. Come to think of it, I’m afraid of anything that flies. Growing up, we had a parakeet, Twinkie. Sweet little thing. And yes, I was afraid of it. And then, there was Jones Beach on Long Island. Tightly patrolled by seagulls. Eeek. Poop mysteriously drops from above. Some say, “it’s good luck.” I say, “it’s disgusting.” And beware of your lunch. Seagulls are adept at snagging a tuna fish sandwich. Which by the way, might be the worst food to bring to the beach. In the heat, tuna fish really stinks. And on a windy day, the mayo attracts sand particles blowing in the air. You didn’t know that? Well, now you know.

Back to the Pool

So why is it that the wasps (the flying kind, not the acronym) seem to be circling the pool whenever I go swimming? They land on the water, drinking or bathing, or whatever they do, as I frantically swim by, trying not to panic. I’ve told myself that they deserve to have a life too. That the pool should be a welcoming place for all critters large and small. And yet, I just can’t help but think of my mother plugging all the holes in the apartment. How would she solve this problem? Should I check out the latest “outdoor” edition of Hints from Heloise? Will citronella candles do the trick? Where is Dear Abby when you really have a problem?

Now for a Little Something Extra!

This month, we’ll be participating in a Women’s Fiction Give-Away. Take a moment to check out the various books and if you haven’t read After the Fall, here’s your chance to grab a free ebook. Enjoy the rest of July. And watch out for the bugs!

I hate going shopping. Just hate it. And so when my toe started to peek through the top of one sneaker, it was time to buy a new pair. And though it seems like a no-brainer, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Because a few years ago, I started to wear orthotics. Those inserted insoles that correct fallen arches. Just when you think you’re indestructible, your arches prove you wrong.

Bye Bye DSW

Buying shoes is such a pain when you wear orthotics. You have to go up in shoe size to accommodate the orthotic. And you have to always remove the insole of whatever shoe you’re looking at to see if your prescribed insole fits. Okay. I get it. This is not a world-shaking crisis. But the days of slipping your foot into any shoe to see if it fits are over. No more buying off the rack at DSW. You must find someplace to sit down and be waited on. And just in case you didn’t know, sitting down and being waited on translates to pricier shoes. Can you say, Nordstrom?

“That’s Not the Shoe Horn Caught in the Back of Your Shoe, Madam. That’s My Finger.”

Years ago, when I was young and fleet of foot (forgive me – I couldn’t resist), I worked as a shoe salesman during summer breaks from college. No offense to the fairer sex, but selling women’s shoes is really tough. Boxes and boxes of shoes were required for every sale. Women are very particular about their shoes. And just because a woman presents in the shoe department, doesn’t mean she’s actually going to buy.

“Yup. That’s A Very Wide Foot.”

Eventually, I switched to selling men’s shoes. Men arrive with a clear mission. They don’t like to shop. And so, they typically buy the first pair of shoes that they try on. If they can get a foot in it, there’s a sale coming. That’s because men will do anything to get out of the store. In fact, if the shoe doesn’t fit, they might consider wearing the box home. Anything to just leave.

“What an Adorable Child.”

Fast forward to grad school. And now I was selling children’s shoes. That was a real fiasco. Children have no idea how a shoe fits. But mom always knows. In fact, mom is the real customer. And moms love deals. So shoes were carefully inspected for any sign of wear and tear. A ten percent discount became the norm. Smart shoppers are the best shoppers.

“Will These Sneakers Go With A Sportcoat?”

Back to my aging sneakers. As it turns out, I wear them every day. In fact, I rarely wear anything else. So the other day, I headed over to Runner’s Den, my local athletic shoe store. No, I’m not a runner. I’m barely a walker. But the sales staff is known for making sure a shoe properly fits your foot. They explain in great detail the design of the shoe. Was I interested? Not really. Still, I appreciated their expertise. But it wasn’t until I arrived home that I noticed the squeaking. What the heck? I paced back and forth. I didn’t hear squeaking in the store? 

Is There a Refund Policy for Noisy Sneakers?

Who knows? Of course, I didn’t go back to the store. You didn’t expect me to. So if ever we meet, you should be able to hear me coming. I won’t be sneaking up (though I’m in sneakers). It will be the squeak, squeak, squeak, of a man who has resigned himself to the fact that if the sneakers fit, the sound is okay. Ugh!

Now for Something Extra!

This week, starting on Monday, June 20th, and running through Wednesday, June 29th, we’ll be participating in a BookSweeps contest. Check out the other novels and earn a chance to win an e-reader and an e-copy of Boca by Moonlight. If you love to read, you’ll enjoy checking out the other 50 titles included in the contest. And until we connect again, enjoy the rest of the month of June!