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Advice for men: Weld It Shut

zip itWhen males turn 12 or 13, and their hormones are raging, I suggest the zipper on their pants be welded shut. This will save them untold misery, loss of money and possibly even prison time.

The daily news is enough to make sane people cry. There is little we can do about the terrorist situation in the world, crooked politicians, and losing football teams, but one way to lower the crime rate and bring back a sense of decency in the world would be to have men weld the zipper shut on their pants. Let me explain.

Last week, John Besh, a famous chef, decided to throw his career inJohn Besh the trash, by unzipping his drawers. He’s lost money, endorsements, and possibly his marriage and family because or raging hormones. Guess he’s been chopped.

Then there is Harvey Weinstein, enough said about him.

tiger woodsTiger Woods lost millions of dollars in endorsements when he let his zipper have its way.

And then there is Anthony Weiner who not only unzips it, he posts photos. Yikes! I give the man a pass, a very small pass for some of his behavior, because I am sure he’s suffered with years of bullying and embarrassment because of his last name.  So, change it. Kevin Spacey

And now a favorite actor of mine, Kevin Spacey, is in trouble.

Bill clintonAnd of course this list would not be close to complete without adding the alpha male of unzipped pants, President Clinton, who asked us to define what does  “is” mean when it comes to sexual misconduct.

Have none of these men heard of fidelity to their spouse or that “NO means no”? And just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

How many men are in prison for sexual crimes because they could not keep it zipped?

'My advice? Dump him! There are plenty more fish in the sea...'

Let me give men a word of advice. If a woman dumps you, consider yourself lucky. You have probably been spared years of nagging, quarrels, and misery. There are far more female fish in the sea than males, so move on. Get over it.

This dumping advice applies to women too. While we do not have an abundance of male fish in the sea, being alone is far better than living with a barracuda.

As for men in power, get a grip on your zipper. A position of power does not allow you to run rough shod over other men and women.

I told my son when he was a mere 15 years old, “Don’t let 15 minutes of the hots  ruin your life. You will not die if you can’t have sex the minute you want it, your male organs will not explode and fall off your body. Go ahead, be wild, care free, and don’t use protection, but you will pay for it later.

Must have been good advice. He has been an adult for many years and there has yet to be a hint of scandal associated with his name. The same is true for many other men too.

shame cartoon

For my male readers, next time before you unzip, ask yourself this. “Would I want my actions reported on national TV, on the front page of the National Enquirer, or  have my best friends and family see me now? Is it worth a divorce, scandal, and possible prison time?

If the answer if NO, then weld it shut.

 

cheater

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Do I Dare Take that Prescription

The world wants a quick fix for everything from political issues to high blood pressure. I am not going to address political issues, I leave that to the know-it-alls on Facebook and talk TV. Today I want to discuss prescriptions we take for our ailing bodies.

pill bottlesThe Sicilian and I take our pills each morning like good little children, but we try to keep pill popping to a minimum. (He takes 3, and I take 6 but only 2 are prescription drugs.) While some people enjoy telling you they take 16 pills a day, we on the other hand want to avoid this. Why? Even though you did not ask, I will tell you. Have you ever read those info sheets that are included with your prescription? You might want to avoid any drug that requires four pages of fine print to inform you of all the possible side effects.

pill reaction

Pharmaceutical companies spend plenty of money to buy pages of advertising in magazine and newspapers. A two-minute pharmaceutical ad is the norm on TV. Most of the pharmaceutical ad is devoted to telling you all the hideous things that can happen to you if you take it, not on the drug’s benefits. Ponder that for a few minutes.

pill allergy

I love the ads that start with: Do not take this drug is you are allergic to it. How am I suppose to know if I am allergic until I take it and almost die from a pill chemicals.jpgreaction? I consider myself smarter than the average bear, (only older readers know about Yogi Bear) , but I have no idea what dexteagosominehydroxy is, and the little chemical symbols showing me the makeup of the drug are as foreign to me as hieroglyphics.

And what about the “happy pills”  we all take to cope with life. Pills that are to alleviate depression. Most of these come with the warning: may increase suicidal thoughts. And this pill is suppose to help me? Seems more like the final solution,  not one I want to try.

Often the list of side effects ends with: may cause death. No matter what ails me, I don’t think death is the option I want. You can keep that pill, thank you very much.

I suggest that we all eat more chocolate, drink more adult beverages, don’t watch the news, avoid Facebook, and spend more time walking in the park, reading humor books, and petting an animal. All of these activities are good for us, and none come with a 4-page warning.

heart burn

But, right now I have to drink baking soda and water because my heartburn is killing me. The pill I take each day is not working. Maybe I better read the fine print again.

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ACK-ronyms by Rebecca Willman Gernon

dandelions.jpgIn the past ten years, acronyms have sprouted up quicker than weeds in my front yard. I find this annoying. Both the weeds and the acronyms.

For many years, the government was the primary source of theses nonsensical terms. In an effort to bamboozle the public, politicians and federal agents tossed out acronyms like beads at a Mardi Gras parade.

Like the weeds that have embedded themselves in my lawn, acronyacronymsms have weaseled their way into the English language and have no intention of leaving. Some acronyms have even become words, like radar, lasik, and laser, but Webster’s Dictionary is no help in discovering what NTSB,  NYSE, ADA, GNP, ICBM and LPTV mean.

After a several months of use, acronyms take on a life of their own. Few people can tell you what the letters OSHA represent, but almost everyone knows “Oh-Shaw” can make a small businessman’s life a nightmare. Same goes for the ACLU, who from what I read protects one person’s rights at the expense of someone else’s.

Another bad example is the Individual Retirement Account (IRA). First pronounced I-R-A, but soon it became an Ira. My broker told me the other day, “Get an Ira.” I went to high school with a guy named Ira Paul Rulla. I don’t think that’s what he meant.

geekA month ago my computer, an aging dinosaur in the rapidly changing world of technology, refused to plod along at any speed. I dreaded visiting the You Better Buy It Now mega-computer store where every clerk is younger than twenty-three and speaks serious techno-geek, a language foreign to me.

“How much RAM do you want? You’ll need a CD burner. What’s your current CPU? How many Gigs? Who’s your ISP?” The dunce cap he gave me fit perfectly.

RX side effects
If you want to experience the granddaddy of acronym usage, watch a few pharmaceutical commercials on TV. I’ve come to the conclusion every disease known to mankind can be reduced to two or three letters. People suffer with COPD, MS, TB, TIA, ADD, ADDL, ARD, and ADHD to name a few. I have no idea what these hideous ailments are, but per the commercials, a miracle drug, with enough side effects to drop a moose, will cure them.

viagraNothing is scared anymore. A few years ago a well-known politician beamed into the camera and told the world  he suffers from ED (Erectile Dysfunction.) I’m not as old as he is, but he ought to know better.

When I was in high school, which was shortly after the stone age, matters like this would never have been discussed. For heaven’s sake, it was still considered shameful for a young girl to have a baby before she was married. Polite people did not use the word pregnant, we said, “She’s PG.” What a U-turn we’ve made in our language. Now five year olds squeal, “Mommy’s pregnant.” I suppose referring to someone being PG went out of fashion, about the time the motion picture industry started using PG as a movie rating.

 

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The Festival Half of the Year

liturigcal cycleFor those familiar with a liturgical church, you know the members celebrate different seasons, i.e. lent, advent, Easter, etc. The months between Pentecost in the spring and Advent in the fall are referred to as Ordinary Time, the – half of the year, or as so many Sundays after Trinity. In our household, we to have 5-6 months of ordinary time and then….ta da… the Festival Half of our year.

A month before the official start of our Festival Half of the year (September 1) the Sicilian is all ready gearing up, planning where to put his holiday decorations when the official Festival Half of our year begins on October 1. The season includes Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Carnival/Mardi Gras, St. Patrick’s Day, and Easter. The Fourth of July is the only holiday celebrated outside of the Festival Half of our year.

Halloween mantelThe Sicilian is my holiday decorator, and he loves it. The more holiday stuff in the house and outside, the happier he is. I on the other had have become a minimalist in my old age and prefer less, but since he takes it all out and puts it all away, I don’t complain too much.

The decorating rules are this: No decoration may be put up more than a month in advance of the holiday, and barring a hurricane, flood, or wildfire, said decorations should all be removed two weeks after the holiday has passed. If not, you could be subject to having a mark put on your permanent record. See this post.

halloween binsSo today, the Halloween decorations are being put out, and if 4 large bins of the stuff was not enough, we had to go to the Halloween Super Store today… “just in case.”

We walked away with a huge ghost, and a skeleton ghost. Skeletons are the Sicilian’s favorites, but when I took him to the catacombs of Palermo that had more than 1000 skeletons hung on the wall organized by sex and occupation, he was not thrilled. All he kept saying was, “They ought to bury these poor bastards.”

And lest you think skeletons are only displayed in oHalloween day of deadur house for Halloween, guess again. This guy is always by our front door. You figure out what it means.

Now that we are in the Festival Half of our year, dusting will become more of a chore than usual. I’ll up my nerve pills so the decorations do not drive me crazy, and as always, I rejoice that I don’t have to do any of this.

Come by tonight, there will be an official lighting ceremony.

The Minimalist’s decoration.

Halloween bear

The Sicilian’s decorations. (Just a few.)

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Rosemary Becomes a Real Woman

Especially for my Sicilian.

Sixty-six years ago, Rosemary,(pronounced Rose-ah-Mary) a good catholic, Sicilian girl was still childless. Despite being married for some time, she was not “a real woman.” To prove she was a real woman, per her Sicilian family, she needed a child. Fruit of her womb. A child, male or female.

NOLA city busIn the winter of 1952, per family lore, she was hit by a New Orleans City bus and drug down the street.  (Their words,not mine.) A few months later, Rosemary was in the family way. “Shook something loose,” said her family.

What she shook loose was born in September of that year, my Sicilian. And several years later, without the bus incident, she produced another son.

Today is the Sicilian’s natal day. Hard to buy him a gift when he has everything . . . me, Spot the Wonder Dog, and his own room for watching TV. But, I succeeded in giving him a surprise, a small fridge for his room which I filled with adult beverages. This morning Spot presented him with a snack basket full of the Sicilian’s favorite treats,(jerky, Junior Mints, Whoppers, M&Ms, red ballpopcorn and Lay’s Dressed Chips). Nestled among the food items was a new red, rubber ball.

Spot subscribes to the motto . . .  “Give unto others what you would like to receive.” I’m sure in her little brain she thinks, “He’s always throwing things for me to catch, so I should give him a new ball.”

The ball was a great hit. Spot immediately engage the Sicilian in her favorite sport, fetch. In the house no less which gives Spot a chance to slide scratches across our hardwood floors and shed another zillion hairs. I swear that dog should be bald with the amount of hair she loses daily.

FrogDespite writing comical incidents about what the Sicilian and I do, he is more than fodder for my blog. He is the best man in the world for me. I know this because I kissed a number of warty frogs before I found my handsome prince. He tolerates my perfectionism with only minor grumbling, and tells me all publishers and agents are idiots when I receive another rejection. So, today, dear Sicilian, I want the world to know I love you. Happy Birthday! And I wish you many many more.

happy birthday

Solar Totality: A Total Bust

For almost a year I planned to attend the Total Eclipse of the sun in Nebraska where I have family. My first mistake was booking our tickets for the wrong dates. I expected the airline to take a bite of my bank account to change the tickets, but due to a glitch in their computer system, they had no record of my purchase, even though I had a confirmation number and my credit card had been charged. Hmmm.

AfSolar-telescopeter I received a credit on my charge card, I re-booked our flight. The Sicilian and I were ready. Him, not so much since Spot the Wonder dog had to be boarded for 10 days.

Meanwhile my son, an amateur astronomer, was spending hours and hundreds of dollars to make his telescope set up portable. Not a small feat as you can see, but he was ready long before August 21.

My girl friend and I, who love to have theme parities, were planning the Great Eclipse Party. solar cookiesOur selected spot for the venue was a family farm 35 miles south of Lincoln, NE. Between us we had created unique party favors, made eclipse sandwiches and cookies, bought champagne, Sun Chips and Moon Pies. We were ready.

Two days before the event, every weather forecast from South Africa to Nova Scotia said eastern Nebraska would be covered in clouds. I lived in Nebraska for years. Clouds in August are as common as tornadoes at the north pole, and yet were forecast.

My son located a second private spot for our party 100 miles west of Lincoln where better viewing might be possible. We waited until 7 a.m. on Aug 21 to decide where to set up for the big event. The weather reports indicated clouds in both locations, so we opted for the 35 mile drive.

My son had brought guns to shoot in this remote location to pass the time.  And the Sicilian found ditch weed while we waited for the event to start.

At 11, the clouds parted. Cheers and solar glasses were donned. Champagne was poured. The Sicilian broke into a spontaneous dance. My son took an excellent picture of the moon starting to cover the sun, and then the damn weatherman was right. Clouds

Twenty minutes before totality, 8 of us zoomed off in different directions hoping to get a glimpse of totality. Nada, zip, zilch, zero. We stopped along a country road at 1:02 p.m. Darkness, crickets, but no view of the sun. Less than ½ mile away we heard a huge crowd in a park away gasp as they saw totality.

My disappointment was huge and compounded by the fact that people at the viewing site 100 miles west of us had a great view. For once I should have believed those lousy weathermen. Bummed, totally.

Solar Totality: A Total Bust

For almost a year I planned to attend the Total Eclipse of the sun in Nebraska where I have family. My first mistake was booking our tickets for the wrong dates. I expected the airline to take a bite of my bank account to change the tickets, but due to a glitch in their computer system, they had no record of my purchase, even though I had a confirmation number and my credit card had been charged. Hmmm.

AfSolar-telescopeter I received a credit on my charge card, I re-booked our flight. The Sicilian and I were ready. Him, not so much since Spot the Wonder dog had to be boarded for 10 days.

Meanwhile my son, an amateur astronomer, was spending hours and hundreds of dollars to make his telescope set up portable. Not a small feat as you can see, but he was ready long before August 21.

My girl friend and I, who love to have theme parities, were planning the Great Eclipse Party. solar cookiesOur selected spot for the venue was a family farm 35 miles south of Lincoln, NE. Between us we had created unique party favors, made eclipse sandwiches and cookies, bought champagne, Sun Chips and Moon Pies. We were ready.

Two days before the event, every weather forecast from South Africa to Nova Scotia said eastern Nebraska would be covered in clouds. I lived in Nebraska for years. Clouds in August are as common as tornadoes at the north pole, and yet were forecast.

My son located a second private spot for our party 100 miles west of Lincoln where better viewing might be possible. We waited until 7 a.m. on Aug 21 to decide where to set up for the big event. The weather reports indicated clouds in both locations, so we opted for the 35 mile drive.

My son had brought guns to shoot in this remote location to pass the time.  And the Sicilian found ditch weed while we waited for the event to start.

At 11, the clouds parted. Cheers and solar glasses were donned. Champagne was poured. The Sicilian broke into a spontaneous dance. My son took an excellent picture of the moon starting to cover the sun, and then the damn weatherman was right. Clouds

Twenty minutes before totality, 8 of us zoomed off in different directions hoping to get a glimpse of totality. Nada, zip, zilch, zero. We stopped along a country road at 1:02 p.m. Darkness, crickets, but no view of the sun. Less than ½ mile away we heard a huge crowd in a park away gasp as they saw totality.

My disappointment was huge and compounded by the fact that people at the viewing site 100 miles west of us had a great view. For once I should have believed those lousy weathermen. Bummed, totally.