Birthday Cake

Why Travel to Europe When You Can Just As Easily Take A Drive?

When I sat down to write this week’s blog, I kept thinking about how I’d like to travel overseas. Now for those who don’t know me, I’ve never been adventurous. Even as a kid, I disliked change, unless it was on the ground waiting to be picked up. A new restaurant? Will they have what I like? A new hotel? Will I be able to figure out how to turn on the shower? So, when it comes to traveling abroad, I can be downright crabby. I hate flying through the night. Who can get any sleep? And I’m not a fan of jet lag. It plays nasty tricks with one’s inner workings. Enough said.

A Change of Heart

But recently, I’ve found myself itching to be anywhere. Anywhere, but home. Especially troubling, when there is nowhere else to be. Don’t get me wrong. Our house is nice. I shouldn’t complain. But after a time, who wants to be sitting home? It really isn’t very interesting. How many closets can your reorganize? Heck no—I haven’t been doing that—but what else is there to do? Even television is boring. There is only so much of The Nanny that I can take (yes—it’s true—I have my limits on reruns). And more and more of the content on Netflix seems suspiciously British. Am I the only one who wonders why everyone is talking with an English accent? I guess I’m just growing impatient to be out and about, exercising the old hindquarters. And until the heat breaks in Phoenix (55 days so far of over 110-degree heat), we’re locked in. Trapped.

Arizona Great Outdoors

All this pent up demand has resulted in road trips. Own a car? You’re all set. Recently, we headed up to Bearazona (cute name) where you drive through an enclosed encampment of wild black bears. Considering the heat, and their heavy black coats, the bears were fairly incapacitated. And frankly, that’s how I like it. No one wants to have a 300-lb animal chasing after the car. Nature can be truly wonderful only at a safe distance. Another weekday, we did a driving tour through the Phoenix Zoo. Not much to see in the heat, but every now and then we had a glimpse of an exotic bird. Or was it a pigeon? Oh, just close your eyes and imagine. We’ve also checked out a number of Arizona’s abandoned ghost towns. To our disappointment, most were overrun by tourists. I bet the ghosts are pretty fed up with all the traffic.

Home Sweet Home

But if you are home, may I recommend a jigsaw puzzle? If you’re not insane yet, this will do the trick. There’s one on my dining room table right now. It’s supposed to be a picture of a car. At least, that’s the photograph on the box. Me? I’m not sure how all those tiny pieces will ever come together to create a car. You could say, the jigsaw puzzle is driving me crazy. Which these days, is not a very long road trip.

Added Bonus

And now, something a little special. If you love audiobooks, check out a free sample from After the Fall. The novel is available on iTunes and Audible. And remember to stay safe. Your health is precious and so are you!

 

The Kitchen Is Closed!

I’ve been thinking a lot about my Mom lately. It isn’t a special anniversary or a birthday month. And it isn’t that Mom recently passed. She’s been gone since 1990. But my thoughts keep drifting back to her. The effort she put into our family. And how she prepared us to take care of ourselves.

I Don’t Want to Make the Salad!

My Mom worked a full-time job when I was growing up.  That made me a latch key kid.  And because Mom worked in Manhattan, she had an hour-long commute. That commute began with a ten-minute walk up a hill to reach the bus that took her to the subway. In New York City, that’s called a two-fare zone. For Mom, it meant thirty minutes on a bus and another thirty minutes on a subway to get to Manhattan.

Other Errands Too?

On occasion, I helped out. Nothing major. Setting the table. Defrosting a steak in the sink. Over time, it transitioned to making a salad. Throwing a load in a washing machine. Going to the grocery store. All the things little boys don’t want to do and don’t want to be seen doing. Mom needed help and since she was important, I obliged.

Some Skills Are Worth Knowing

Given time, I became a fairly domesticated kid. So when I went off to college, I knew how to take care of myself. And though I still hate to do the laundry, I can do it. Though in our house, Jeff’s the laundry guy. He’s better at stain removal. It seems we spill a lot. And he likes doing it. Trust me. Send your laundry here. You’ll make him very happy.

Not the Kitchen

As for cooking, I remain the go-to-guy. Do I like it? Nope. Can I do it? Sure. And, over the last few months, I’ve prepared a variety of dishes. I’ve even baked a cake or two. If anything, social distancing has enhanced my kitchen skills. I guess practice makes perfect. Without a restaurant to go to, I’m kind of stuck. Would I prefer to eat out? You bet. But until we can do that safely, I’m in that kitchen twice a day making lunch and dinner. For breakfast, you’re on your own. Except on Sunday. That’s when my Dad made pancakes. I try to keep that tradition alive.

Childhood Memories

How did my Mom prepare all those meals for all those years and not go insane? It defies the imagination. And so this whole lockdown experience gives me a new respect for mothers. Each night, as we clear the table and load the dishwasher, I hear my Mom’s voice cry out. Tired from a long day at the office, eager to relax, she’d tell the family, “The kitchen is closed!” I totally get that sentiment. Amen, Mom. Amen.

And Now For Something Extra

In honor of Pride Month, check out the ebooks being offered from June 15th through June 22nd as part of a Pride Freebie Promotion. If you haven’t read The Intersect, this is your chance to download a copy. Just click on this hyperlink.

In addition, I’m participating in a Satirical Humor Promotion from June 17th through June 30th with What’s That Growing in My Sour Cream? Check out the promotion by clicking on this hyperlink. 

Stay safe and healthy!

Bunnies to the Left, Bunnies to the Right

Is it my imagination or are there bunnies everywhere this Easter? Dust bunnies, that is. Floating past me in the kitchen. Dancing along the hallway. Waving from the corner of the dining room. How can this be? And more importantly, why haven’t I noticed these animated tumbleweeds before?

Quarantine

As a writer, I’ve worked from home for years. But with COVID-19, we’re no longer using a cleaning service. In fact, we haven’t welcomed anyone into our disease-free fortress for at least six weeks. But if I ever wondered why we had a cleaning service, I know now. Gosh, two people can create quite a mess.

Bunny?

Which makes me wonder. Why is that tumbleweed called a dust bunny? Is it because the word bunny is cute?  Not exactly. I’ve recently learned it’s because of the fluffiness of the dust, which by the way, according to a 2009 University of Arizona study, dust is comprised of “a mixture of organic matter such as dead skin cells and organic fibers, soil tracked-in on footwear, and particulate matter derived from the infiltration of outdoor air.” Egad. There’s nothing cute about that!

Where’s the Vacuum?

In our house, we have two vacuum cleaners. The upright and the canister. Why do we have two? I’m not sure. I can only assume we each once had a preferred model? But to be honest, neither of us has used a vacuum in years. The dustbuster, sure. But a vacuum? Nope. So both vacuums have been sitting in our garage collecting dust. Until now. And with a flip of a switch, a pull on a cord, we’ve begun the arduous process of vacuuming. Discovery #2. You have to have a very young back to excel at vacuuming.

And the Rest of the House?

It’s obvious we need to do more than just vacuum. Oh well. These are the times that make men hardy. Or something like that. And so we’ll schedule a cleaning ritual. Vacuum, dust, clean countertops, and attack the dreaded toilet. This’s all doable. After all, we are mighty men. Capable and strong. Or, maybe, we can just clean when the dust bunny problem gets out of hand. I like that idea. After all, how much dirt can we really create? Hmm. Based on what I’m seeing around right now—quite a lot!

One Last Thought

Don’t forget to grab a copy of my latest book: What’s That Growing in My Sour Cream? It’s a touch of Erma Bombeck with a sprinkle of David Sedaris and just a hint of Andy Rooney.

Is It Time to Stop Saying, “I’m Just Saying”?

We’ve had a lot of discussion in our house lately about the phrase I’m just saying. To be honest, I’ve come to use it quite a bit when something I’ve uttered hasn’t landed well. Believe it or not, that happens now and then. Sometimes more often than I care to admit. I’m just saying becomes the awkward default. The three words that you can toss out to try and save the day. Lessen the blow. Ease the tension.

So Why Use It At All?

Which of course has gotten me to thinking. Why would I even say I’m just saying? It’s already obvious that I’m the one speaking. Do I really think adding an I’m just saying will make everything magically alright? I must. At least based on how often I use it.

Top Reasons?

So what are the top reasons for employing this pesky phrase?

  1. To give the illusion of not being too vested in what I just said. Though of course, I am. Otherwise, why would I have even said it?
  2. To try to present as being flexible. Translation: I’m open to further discussion on the matter. Reality: Good luck getting me to change my mind.
  3. To fill that awkward silence when someone stares back in disbelief about what I’ve uttered. Perhaps an apology might be a better choice, but then, I’d have to humble myself and admit a mistake. Now there’s a challenge!
  4. To explain away that awful rant after someone has cut me off in traffic. No, I don’t really want them to rot in hell. Even if they failed to use their turn signal.

Own It

I believe it’s important to think before we speak. To remember that words can hurt. But when all else fails, a simple I’m just saying might lessen the blow. After all, it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump from it’s my opinion and it’s very true. I’m just saying.

 

A New Year: Hooray or Oy Vey?

It’s a new year and that means a fresh start. All things are possible as we look ahead. But to be honest, that just isn’t my nature. I tend to be the guy looking over his shoulder, wondering what could have been. Alright. I know. That’s a bit of a downer. But we can’t all be running around happily celebrating. I’d call that chaos. So instead of spreading New Year’s cheer, I’m going to share my private thoughts about the new year. Just consider it another perspective.

Guy Lombardo vs. Ryan Seacrest

Okay, I admit it. Ryan Seacrest is a personable guy. And Anderson Cooper and Andy Cohen can also be fun to watch. But to be honest, I miss Guy Lombardo and the live telecast from The Waldorf Astoria. I know. Corny. Perhaps. But there was something special about watching New York’s high society celebrating in the Grand Ballroom. It was like sitting on the stairs in your pajamas looking in on the adults. Everything seemed so very elegant. And we just don’t do elegant anymore.

It’s A Wonderful Life

And what happened to all those terrific holiday films? Yes, The Wizard of Oz had a telecast. Thank goodness. But nowhere else could you find The Miracle on 34th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life or Holiday Inn. I checked Turner Movie Classics on Christmas Day. These beloved films have been replaced by modern fare. Okay. I get it. Time marches on. Maybe so. But I haven’t.

January Birthday

It might be easier if I wasn’t a Capricorn. Being a Cappy means I must come to grips with the new year and growing older, all within days of each other. My cake now holds only one candle. No sense in setting off the smoke alarm. I can make a wish and easily blow it out in one breath. I’m surrounded by birthday cards. Lots of jokes about indigestion, arthritis, flatulence, and old age. The cards make me laugh. But they aren’t projecting a future that anyone might hope for. In fact, it’s what we all fear.

One Step Forward, One Step Back

So for me, New Year’s is less about Auld Lang Syne and more about the Hokey Pokey. It will take months before I’m truly comfortable. Some of us are just slow adapters. Nonetheless, I still  want to wish everyone a happy and healthy New Year. Just don’t make me say, 2019.

Trick or Treat: Step Away from the Candy Bowl!

With Halloween just around the corner, this is the time of year when we make that dreaded purchase. Candy. Lots of candy. It’s on special everywhere. Bags and bags. Gooey, chewy, crunchy, stick to your dental work, stuff.  And each year, we try to pick candy that we don’t like. This is hard to do. For each year, we’re reminded that there isn’t much that we actually dislike.

Chocolate vs. Marshmellow

In our house, there are two teams. Chocolate Lovers (me) and Marshmellow Mavens (Jeff). This, of course, means that any candy including either ingredient is out of the running for Halloween.  Our philosophy: don’t bring into the house anything that either of us might like to snack on. Standing in front of the candy aisle at the supermarket, we can be overheard having this exact discussion. Small children have been known to shun us.

But Candy is Everywhere

When I go to the bank (notice – I didn’t say the ATM), there is a huge stash of candy to pick through as you wait in line.  I think this significantly improves customer service. Especially when I see Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. God outdid himself the day he prompted H.B. Reese to resign from Hershey and create a new candy company. Combining chocolate and peanut butter is pure genius!

Back to the Supermarket

And so the challenge is once again before us. What should we buy that we won’t eat? In the past, we’ve opted for Butterfingers. Nestle describes the candy as a crunchy peanut butter core covered in chocolate. Sounds delicious. But there is something about the dry texture which bothers me. Plus, it gets all caught up in your teeth like toffee or taffy. Dentists must love it.

But Are We Being Fair to the Little Children?

After all, Halloween is about the kids. Shouldn’t we be giving out candy that we think the little tykes will love? Candy that is truly delicious? M&M’s Plain and Peanut. Milky Ways. Snickers. What can be the harm in buying those wonderful treats?

We All Deserve a Little Halloween Fun

So this year, things will be different. Instead of buying the candy we like the least, we’re going to purchase the candy we love the best. And then, we’ll try to remember to turn on the outside porch lights on October 31st. And no matter how loud the television is blasting, we’ll listen for the doorbell. Heck, we might even stay in that night instead of going to a movie. Who knows? Trick or treat – and the best of the evening to you and yours – and all the little children.

 

Book

If You’re A Baby Boomer, Does Anyone Still Want to Hear Your Opinion?

Back in the 1980s, I attended a seminar at the University of Michigan. It was an insightful week. We learned about market research, market analysis, and how to create a marketing plan. But the most powerful message wasn’t about the tools. It was about the Baby Boomers. The people who had the purchasing power. And the message was clear. Young people spend money. Lots of money. Which is why advertisers create messages skewered to a younger audience.

Baby Boomers

That once youthful market of Baby Boomers (26% of the United States population), is now well beyond middle-age. Each day, 10,000 Boomers turn 65. 65!  Now, it’s true that you can still be a youthful 60-something. You can exercise regularly, be sharp-witted, and read voraciously. And you can look fabulous. But there is no way you can really consider yourself young. Well, you can, but you might be the only one.

Silence is Golden

Now, I like being older. Maybe because when I was younger, things didn’t always go so well. There were lots of personal challenges to work through. Troubling times that inspired insecurity and doubt. Oh, I still have those moments. I’m sure we all do. But at least now, I understand such feelings are momentary. If age offers wisdom—we learn that not every misstep in life is a calamity. Age helps put that lesson into perspective.

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Aging Dog

Lessons I’ve Learned from My Dog About Aging

Every morning at 6:00 a.m., Charlie, our miniature apricot poodle, stands up on the bed and does a brisk shake. It’s time to get up and walk the neighborhood. And even though I sometimes want to stay in bed longer, I’ve come to understand that my dog has a lot to share about growing older. He’s already half-way through his fourteenth year, and so, he knows about aging. I only need to pay a bit of attention to incorporate the lessons.

Keep Moving

Charlie walks best in the cool morning hours. And though he might be stiff with the first few steps, he moves amazingly well once he gets going. Walking remains an important part of his day even though he might stumble on an occasional curb. But he doesn’t give up.

Adapt to Your Limitations

There was a time when Charlie insisted on playing ball every morning. He’d leap and spin, barking and growling enthusiastically. He still plays, but it’s limited to one or two tugs on a dog toy. The joy remains though the activity level is diminished. He indulges in life within the context of his abilities.

If this Bush Doesn’t Work Out—Find Another

Charlie seeks out the best information the neighborhood has to offer. He carefully selects where to make his mark and when to leave his scent. Life is all about choices. Charlie knows the excitement of life is often found at the next bush.

Not Every Meal Needs to be Devoured

There was a time when Charlie ate his meals with gusto. Those days are over. He now eats with a lot of encouragement. Sitting next to him on the floor has become the routine. Often, we hand feed the first few bites to get him going. Sometimes, we even skip a meal because he’s just not interested.

Love Can be Expressed in Many Ways

Pleasure is all about eye contact. When you’re in Charlie’s company, he’s memorizing every detail of your face. In bed at night, Charlie is a regular hot water bottle. He enjoys looking into our eyes as he gets his nighttime scratch. Then, he plants himself next to you and doesn’t move much until the early morning hours.

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Hourglass

The Game of Life: What’s Your Score?

There’s been a strange turn in our local newspaper, the Arizona Republic. Let me explain. They’ve recently relocated the obituaries to the back of the sports section. Yes, that’s right. You can now check game scores while you peruse the passing of your neighbors. How convenient!

Smile for the camera

The redesign of the obits started weeks ago. First, they enlarged the photographs. I get it. You want to see the face of your loved one. But most of the photographs aren’t professionally shot. The enhanced size looks grainy. And as we older folks know, it’s hard to capture a flattering photograph. We need proper lighting and a bit of photoshopping. Aunt Gert looks as if she was caught by surprise. Uncle Milton seems to be in the middle of chewing. So why, for heaven’s sake (I had to throw that in), make the photograph larger?

The whole thing has got me thinking (uh oh)

By placing the obits in the sports section, is the Arizona Republic confirming that life is but a game and there are winners and losers? Is your age at the time of death the ultimate score? If you’ve reached 80, 90, or 100—have you officially won—making death the eternal booby prize? Or, are the winners determined by the length of the obituary and the scads of relatives who adored you (though they never came to visit)? Does your obit dominate the page, attracting the most attention? And if you’re dead, does any of this truly matter?

I guess winner is a relative term

Few obits seem to provide the most interesting highlights from a life well-lived. I’m not referring to the marriages or the children or even the jobs held. Those are facts. Our lives are shaped by our challenges, hardships, and lessons learned. If you were a parent, what tips can you pass on about raising children? If you were a caretaker for an elderly parent, how did you sustain your enthusiasm? If you succeeded in business, what secrets did you learn about working with people? Just imagine what a terrific read that might be. To capture a snapshot of the living, breathing, thinking human being—and not just some vital statistics.

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Late Night Buying Spree…What’s Your Pleasure?

I was up the other night unable to sleep. It happens. Not often, but enough to know that late night television is jammed with 30-minute infomercials. Celebrity promos encouraging us to purchase all sorts of products. From Cindy Crawford’s Meaningful Beauty (let’s just agree the woman is gorgeous and even after 30 years she looks practically the same) to Leandro Carvalho’s (I have no idea who he is but he’s very enthusiastic) Brazilian Butt Lift, which finally answers that burning question of why everyone from Brazil has such a firm hiney.

Stair Stepper

In 1990, before anyone ever heard the name Kardashian, I purchased a mini stair stepper promoted by Bruce Jenner. It looked like a wonderful piece of exercise equipment and sure enough, I stepped my way to the nightly news for three weeks until it started to leak grease all over my carpet. By then, the little stepper was making a high-pitched, whining noise. It sounded like I was killing a cat. I wrote Bruce an angry letter complaining about the poorly built stepper and wondered how an Olympian could ever promote such a piece of junk. Needless to say, he never wrote back. As I learned later, his wife Kris had negotiated the deal. So, in a way, I was an early-adopter of the Kardashian business model. No comment.

And I Should Have Learned My Lesson…But I Didn’t

Next, I fell victim to a very senior Hugh Downs. This was well after his retirement from the prime time news magazine 20/20. He was promoting a two-volume edition of alternative medical treatments. The pitch: cures the pharmaceutical companies don’t want you to know. As a healthcare administrator and part-time hypochondriac, I couldn’t resist. At 2:00 a.m., I placed my order. When the books arrived, they were essentially bundled scientific research papers. Pretty much unreadable to even a guy who had a B.A. in Biology. 

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