In like a lion.

Al Gore I really wanted to follow you. I really want to forgive you for your less than eco-mansion. But March is not warmer lo, it is not milder. It is colder than a witch’s…titilating subject this weather, eh?

I know global warming can really mean climate swings, but earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis…did my hair spray in the 60s  really cause all of this? Drat you Bee-hive hair doo!

As I once again run outside and throw mulch over my exhurberant daffodils hoping I don’t lose every single blasted bloom out there to a rogue ice storm, I have to wonder how much of this is manmade, how much of this is just Mother Nature going through Menopause? Up-down, hot flashes-chills…it’s like one long year watching Ma Nature learn assertiveness training and getting it wrong. I think we have done the earthqauke thing. Not to mention the rain/ mudslide thing. Is it getting worse, or is the reporting just getting better, or at least more persistent. We do, afterall, have an entire channel dedicated to weather. Maybe they just have to dig up more gale force winds in order to get to the top of the hour.

In the south though, they bring weather dramas to a whole new level.  “Artic Blast in the future…stay tuned!” Okay for the record dropping from 45 to 35 degrees is NOT, I repeat, NOT an Artic Blast. An Artic Blast starts at Zero degrees and goes way down and then you add wind chill. “When I was your age”…but really when I was in college it would be 10 below zero with windchil at 40 below or more. I cut classes once for 4 days. It was, with windchill, minus50 degrees. Most self-respecting penguins would ‘fly’ south (or north from Antartica) at 30 below.Gimme a break!

I had put on long underwear, a ski suit and a snowmobil suit and my nostrils froze together and my eyelids froze nearly shut. I went back to the dorm and lived off the hot chocolate machine and ate those orange peanut butter cracker thingies. I figured I was being sent to college to get smart and it was smart to stay inside.

It was also smart of me to have a genuis roomie who went to every class come hell or high water. She was the kind of kid who would have missed a great party on July 4th if it meant missing Sunday School and not getting her perfect attendance pin for 10 years. She got back from every class and transferred her perfectly written notes into a 5 ring binder on her desk. I rolled out of bed at 11 a.m., read her notes from her (our) 7, 8, and 9am classes. I got As, she got a Bs. Hey, she was a great note taker, but not much on recall.

So, Al, it may not be 50 below, only 30 below up yonder. I don’t see that range melting icebergs. I know they are melting…I saw them 3 years ago, just dropping off the glacier like that cake in McArthur’s Park icing flowing down (how stoned were we that, that song made sense to us?). But I’m cold right NOW even in the south.

So, please concentrate on why pollutants are killing my lungs and the higher rates of cancer and auto-immune diseases. Tell the masses to use local fuel, recycle,  and practice using less hormones in chickens. Do that and I’m yours again. But DON”T tell me it’s getting warmer while I have to use a heating pad on my toes to get to sleep in March while I’m living just shouting distance from South of the Border .

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ADVERTISEMENT: Scrambled Leggs book preview is now available at Amazon. FYI, YouTube reading is at: Scrambled Leggs, Sally Franz (or video #25 above).

ALSO, Check out New Book review at the Cool Stuff column (left on main page here- GREEN). Our own Ray Duarte is published once again!

 Valentine’s Day Made EZ!

With celebs to politicians touting multiple mistresses, like a bad ad for Baskin and Robbins, ya gotta ask, “whazzup with that?”  Dudes, love is a verb, an action verb. Don’t confuse it with a feeling or a body part. Love is as does.

But just to make it REALLY easy…let me give all you guys a handy little tool this Valentine’s Day.

This is what I call:

                                                 Ten Easy Steps to Multiple Sales and One Woman

The concept is simple. If you want to keep a woman happy and loyal ‘ya gotta’ treat her the way you would your very best clients.  Apply these rules to your clients AND your lady and life will be sweet this Valentine’s Day.

1.       If you’re going to be late for an appointment (and dinner at home qualifies) you call.

2.       Special event coming up–contract renewal? (Birthday, Anniversary, Valentine’s Day) send a gift.

3.       Gifts include: What CLIENTS like, their hobbies, collections. Think cigars, but more tasteful.

4.       Review the benefits of going with ‘your outfit’ over your competition, and fulfill those benefits.

5.       Take Customer Service issues seriously. Complaints need to be corrected with swift action.

6.       Introduce new bells and whistles to your product line to keep them coming back to you.

7.       Never share proprietary information with others. Especially if you have an exclusivity clause.

8.       Do not secretly go after their competition as a contingency plan. Service the client you have.

9.       Call them out-of-the-blue to see if there is any way you can improve their experience with you.

10.   If you have to break off the business deal do so in person, with integrity in a win-win fashion.

See how easy this is?

Integrity, respect and a true concern for your client’s success is key. Relationship marketing guarantees commissions. No double dealing, no doubling dipping and no double crossing. Be your customer’s ‘advocate’ making sure your number one job is to service their needs (spoken and unspoken). Exceed their expectations. If you don’t know what that looks like, ask them. Take notes to catch the details and nuances. Use your body language skills. Your personality classes, your close-the deal course. The result is a loyal, harmonious and delightful client relationship (and most likely a pretty hot love life at home in the dividend column).

When in doubt just ask yourself this: If I wanted to gain, maintain, or retain a BIG client what would I be willing to do? Because, guys, a good woman treated well will not only deliver on the happiness, joyful and passionate side, she will probably help you win and keep your business clients too.

And for the record, if you screw over a client and the industry hears about it, kiss your career good-bye. And if that isn’t clear enough for you left-brained, literalist…mess with the love of a woman and everyone in town will know about it by noon. With the internet, it will be worldwide knowledge by close of the day.

Sally Franz

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In the summer, it’s all about sitting on the front veranda and sipping Miny Julips gazing aimlessly at the fields. In February you sit inside sucking back cocoa and watching ice cycles drip.

What a bunch of weenies!

Come on, “in my day we walked to school in 3 foot drifts barefoot!” (Okay, only barefoot if your boot got stuck in a drift.) But snow days had to include 3 inches of ice on top of 6 foot drifts and below ZERO temps. And it had to be all three! Otherwise your mother started wrapping you up within an inch of your life and shoving you out the door with a metal lunchbox at 7 a.m.

Interestingly enough, a study I once read said that northern hemisphere folks think they are more industrious because they do things like go to work and school in temperatures that would keep the devil home. Southern hemisphere folks just sorta take their time about things. The study revealed that both hemispheres produced the same amount of industry, i.e. GNP.  EGADS! CAN THAT BE TRUE?

The reason is with all the wrapping and unwrapping, stomping around to regain blood in the toes, you might as well have stayed home and read a good book. Southerns know how to go with the flow. Turns out fighting the elements tuckers you out.

Now with the internet it makes me ready to concede to the south. You can certainly get as much done at home as at work in most cases. (Ok I don’t want a nurse trying to take my blood pressure online…although I bet that one is possible with today’s technology. )

But for Moms with the kids underfoot, or grandparents who have the little banshees all day for 4 days, there is nothing leisurely with visions of floating magnolia blossom in the fountain–frozen or otherwise. So, may I commend to you, www.BoowaKwala.com. This is an interactive computer game site for kids. Of course this presupposes you have a computer in every room, one that does not have important stuff on it, like contacts and records.It may be worth getting a second laptop, or they may all be swarming like locust on your lap top!

Trust me when I tell you, lo, let technology babysit the blighters.

Or lobby for a town snowplow. I’d offer my kingdom for one, but I am pretty sure they cost at least 2 kingdoms and a half!

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Second AD: If you go to Sally Franz on Facebook I have a photo album of my one-of-a-kind gold and silver jewelry for sale, Geronto Gems.  Items for Christmas are now 20% off with shipping+ included. 

FYI: You will fall off your chair laughing at the newest installment of REAR View Mirror with Marilee. Also, check out Ray Duarte’s  New and Cool stuff!

We now return you to your regularly programmed BLOG. 

 BLOG:

 FIrst of all, I note that the type on this page has shrunk. I apologize. But aren’t you glad to know it is NOT time for another visit to the eye doctor. I will fix this when I am home (soon). (Also, apparently no spell check-rattz)

I am on the road visiting my Aunt and Uncle in Philly. I was born here and it is beautiful. Especially where I am up on the Mainline. The colors autumn through winter are remarkably :just from here”. Deep mustard yellow grasses, bright green lawns and blue slate on walls and homes. Bryn Mar to  Marion rolls with delightful old fords and fences. There’s the devil to pay if you weren’t born here to find your way home. I’ve been all over the world and this one area is so uniqoue, I could be blndfolded and let out here and know where I was. Not so for Tulsa which looks lke Cincinati, or Fairlawn, or even Fresno. . It’s not just the same franchises, and parking lots, it’s he total lack of interesting terrain around the stores.

All that said, I will find myself in the Carolinas by next week. Wow, I have been in North Carolina coming on my third Christmas. I like living in a place where the idea of snow is nostalgic without actually having to deal with the crap. And YES I am wishing folks Merry Cristmas, because it is what I celebrate. I wish people Happy Other Stuff when that shows up on my Girl Scot Calendar.

In fact, I am very fond of religious calendars becaue in adition to Happy Arbor Day I can wish people Blessd St. Swithins Day and with a trivia calenadar I can interupt any conversation with the non-sequitoer, did you know this is “Eat a dill pickle week?” It is particularly nice to have in one’s social quiver if not arsenal if people (men) in the group have spent everyone’s (women) time arguing about hockey, football, or down south… which civil war general was the most strategic…to which I add, apparently, “not eough.”

I am looking forward to eggnog, carols and snuggling by the fireplace. However, I do wish the decorations would simply go away. I am hoping I can fit the artifical tree upright balls and all into the walk-in attic. I suppose my grandchildren will just program their “Ray Bardbury (LCD) walls” to Christmas themes and then come Jan1st punch in Snow scenes. I am not sure if that will be good or bad.

I do know that I have been living in an upscale gerbil farm here at the retirement home with my Aunt and Uncle for only a few days. You could live your last 20 years here and NEVER go outside. I thought that was a good thing, but by day 3 I think I will break out and dance on the wet lawn outside. Like a Sci-Fi world we on the inside are pampered and cared for. Gyms, pools, restaurants, parties, movies, are a stroll away, but maybe a little real drizzle down the neck is healthy.  Lord knows what befalls those outside of the bubble house. Well, I know because we do have cell reception.

My sister just left the idyllic environs of the Happy Home for Retirees. She was  going back to northern Michigan to her family. She was in Detroit for the last 14 hours. snow and sleet bound. I don’t think she likes the real world right now. 

As I said, snow is a lovely idea. But the reality of it should be taken in small amounts, say a few ice cubes at a time in a wassel drink.

Merry Christmas.

Sally

Bookmark this:

Second AD: If you go to Sally Franz on Facebook I have a photo album of my one-of-a-kind gold and silver jewelry for sale, Geronto Gems.  Items for Christmas are now 20% off with shipping+ included. 

FYI: You will fall off your chair laughing at the newest installment of REAR View Mirror with Marilee. Also, check out Ray Duarte’s  New and Free stuff!

We now return you to your regularly programmed BLOG.

Conundrum is a great word. Like juxtaposition but without having to compare and contrast the mysteries, lo, riddles of life. And oy vey what a year of quagmire it has been. I find I am befuddled, enfeebled and flabbergasted simultaneously. And zowza, am I qualmish on every front. Is this the result of old age or the burrito with jalepenos I had for lunch?

Where to begin?

We saw a black President elected and political optimism spiked three whole seconds and then life went on as usual. I confess I am dating a Republican, a southern one at that, and though we argue on details we agree that once anyone gets to an elected office there is so much corruption that everyone looks and acts the same. But at least my local politics is interesting. Two women got elected too our town council here for the first time! That is either because women heretofore had the common sense to stay out of the fray, or because down south is finally leaving the 1950s behind and growing the %$# up.

Globally we are hearing that in something like 10 years there will be enough Muslims to vote in their own US President. See there ya go…zero population coming around to bite us in the butt. The establishment folks have 1.5-2.0 kids and everyone else in the world is having a ga-jillion. I am glad I am not a conservative Musilim who came to the US for sanctuary and freedom for my kids, especially my daughters. I bet those folks are being slapped around to join the militants…the bully militants they ran away from (See the movie “Kite Runner”). Can you imagine leaving al you had for freedom and the same thungs just moved in next door and YOU are guilty by association?

Then there is the world of petty annoyances. I saw a key chain ‘fob’ that had a cartoon with a woman saying, “We all know one:  a yoga practicing, vegetarian, democrat, five minutes away from bankruptcy.” That is a good example of why it is hard some days to live down south. This uppity $#@% with hert entitlement narrow thinking. Hey, I eat vegetables, I’m a democrat, I can do partial lotus flower position after a few Pina Coldas and I bet cha without your Sugar Daddy’s money I am worth more than you! Okay, I realize I am now yelling at a cartoon. But I am up to my Mint Juliep in this debutant mindset (oops one of their own got busted for selling cocaine this year) of being special…as in ‘more special’ than others based solely on their lineage and on nothing they have done! HOT TIP to all you Steel (and rusting) Magnolias: Being borm to privielege does NOT make you special or interesting. I think there should be a ceremony for 30 year olds who have accomplished something in their own right. Call it the paycheck award.

Then of course we finish the year off with Tiger Woods driving off his own drive way. No one is talking, but it is clear someone had a wee spat and drove off in a blinding huff. I’ve been there and have the body shop invoice to prove it. The real question wasn’t IF they had a fight. The real question is when did his wife learn to swing a club? And did she swing that club before he drove off or to later to rescue him. And was it his Big Betha or his little light weght putter? Wandering mings want to know.

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Whether it’s Aunt Gladdy Gotsalots, Nephew Neville the Nascar Nut or Weird Willy the Wino who lives in a tent somewhere in Beverly Hills Yakaboutit.com has a gadget or gizmo right for the job. Face it, everybody has challenges with space, laundry, animals, etc. and the last thing you want to do is give your relatives, boss, neighbor the same gift they got last year or received 10 of this year. And nobody you love should have to return things…REALLY! Returning gifts is worse than buying gifts.

And at Yakaboutit.com you can select the item you want, charge it and have it sent directly to the person on your list in minutes anytime night or day. That’s right… a few minutes, a credit card and viola your shopping is O-V-E-R.

Please tell me you are shopping online this year. All the boomers have had about 10 years to get used to this idea. If you are still freaked out about credit card fraud, get a card just for this season, use it over 3 days and cancel it. There are so many wonderful sites that will make your life easier. Just google what you want and pick a site that has it.

The reason I love shopping online is that it lets me get back to my life and out of long lines. I am ’so over’ the attitude of shopgirls who roll their eyes because I asked if an item came in human sizes (not 0-2), a color that matched more than a black light poster or if it could be shipped (”Yeah, we could ship it…but it’s like a real hassle to fill out the forms and I am really busy here, so you’ll have to come back tomorrow around 1 p.m. when it’s not so busy.”) Okay, does anyone explain to clerks in their 15 minutes of training that if you tick off a customer they actually won’t come back when it is convenient for them? Ergo, no sale, no income, no salary for them.

The reason this of course comes up is that the Friday after Thanksgiving is the busiest annual shopping day of the year. It is enough to make you lose your entire Thanksgiving dinner. And if I read the papers correctly it is the only day of the year that inventory can be guaranteed, and that before 10am on that one day. Some places have their Christmas Specials early. That is if you are ’specia’l enough to get up at 4am…not a typo, 4 A M! as in ‘before roosters get up’.

I for one did most of my shopping in August and what is left will all be done online. I really want Christmas to be a day of peace and joy and it would be nice if all of December had a tone of relaxation to it.

So plan ahead for the Holidays and make them relaxing. Oh and HOT TIP: if you have teenagers on your list it’s easy, send them money. Seriously, you don’t want to listen to the CDs they want and you won’t approve of their hooker/gangsta apparel. For everyone else, let your mouse do the walking.

If you do that you will have a great deal to be thankful for this season.

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I have just gotten wind about a great nostalgic musical on Broadway, The Marvelous Wonderettes (yeah, I know it’s a long way away for some of you, but you can buy the CD). I love this music. Mr. Sandman, Lipstick on Your Collar, Lollypop. One thing you can say about the music of the 50s is that it was upbeat. Even the songs about the blues had harmony and refrains I can still remember.

In fact, I sang Lipstick on Your Collar with my friend Tina in our fourth grade “Show and Tell”. We had practiced every single day for hours the summer before until her mother banished us to the backyard. I don’t know why parents had trouble with repetition and budding genius back then, hmmm? I was in one more “rock and roll” group before giving up my musical career–the final group being the “Trangressors” with Dave and Steve. Then I was onto folk music…rowing that boat ashore, hanging my head down and waiting for Stuball to come in first.

Anyway, Mrs. Mozoleski, our fourth grade teacher was not amused. How can you resist? We had all the dance moves down in unison. Geez, we even choreographed the sucker ourselves. I think I had a note go home to my mother that elaborated on the inappropriate nature of the song. Hey, I had older sisters who were dating and making-out in front of the house. I’d been around (ok, around the bushes spying).  But I wanted to be all grown up and wailing on some guy about the wrong shade lipstick…”then I noticed yours was red, mine was baby pink”.

So if you are in the mood for ‘Holidays in the Big Apple’, go to the website: www.marvelouswonderettes.com and buy enough tickets for the whole family. I have seen the trailers and the Youtube video and I am psyched about the idea of seeing this musical.

The reason I love this musical is it is fun. It is upbeat. It is innocent. It includes the audience and it makes you feel good. In the ‘daze’ of war and recession I don’t think it would kill ya to lighten up for a few hours and let your heart sing. Studies show that music is held in the right brain. The right brain is your creative side. More time in your right brain means more time for your brain to problem solve your  sit-chi-a-shun (as in, “what a revolting development this is”). Maybe we should send all of Congress to see this. And as a pre-Holiday bonus… go to our FREE STUFF catalog where we will post coupons for discount tickets for The Marvelous Wonderettes.

These are sing-out-loud in your car songs and you deserve to be happy at least in traffic. If you can’t find your 45s, or a record player, or those stupid little yellow plastic whirly-gigs that go in the middle of the 45s…does anyone even know the name of those gizmos? I say, get this re-make of the 50s music on your i-pod, phone, CD and let your heart sing for all its worth. Honestly, the Marvelous Wonderettes do more than justice to these old tunes, they offer intricate harmonies, fresh comical interpretations and all with the energy I hope I had when I was in High School and can only reminisce about now.

And yes, I know this is like listening to your parents with their Benny Goodman records scratching along on Sunday afternoons on the Victrola. In fact, Benny Goodman is sounding pretty good to me these days too.

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It is most unfortunate that high desert also comes with Sana Anna winds and Sun Downer firestorms. And of course California comes with earthquakes. But aside from the flames, tremors and an occasional tsunami, the west coast is pestilence free.  It is also humidity free. It is like living in a museum temperature controlled glass cage. I liked that.

The farther into California you go toward Las Vegas, the drier the air. Now all the blarney about dry heat being less, well, hot is NOT true. Hot is hot, as anyone who owns a shiny black auto with black leather interior can tell you. In fact, how hot is it? When you go to Bakersfield, California (and you’d better have a good reason to do so) the hotels have mist machines (misters?) all around the pool so their guests don’t evaporate before paying up. I’ve never been to Palm Springs, but I am pretty sure it is false advertising to suggest there are natural springs to loll about in. I am equally sure that any springs that do exist burn up in summer with no trace of dew point to record. California has an aqueduct from top to bottom just to survive. There is no real rainfall to count on. But on the bright side, no humidity to frizz the hair doo or “schemer” the make-up or to procreate little flying vampires.

Humidity is a plague unto itself. It can even be cold and humid (note above mentioned Portland fly-bys). Humidity is akin to being in a full body sweat to rival a hefty case of typhoid. Humidity is not just “close” as they call it in New Jersey, it is a…cloy, rancid, creepy crawly, heebee-geebee, gag me thing.  Humidity is to the outside what junk food is to the inside. Think of drinking a chocolate milkshake with greasy fries and onion rings topped with an old-fashioned Banana Split with those maraschino (bleached, calcium induced, dyed) red cherries. Now think of that sickening-sugar-rush ebbing over a wave of hydrogenated fat producing headache-effect as a rating for the outside air. Put it this way: if we landed with a spaceship in Flatbush in July…ours would be deemed an uninhabitable planet.

Besides, humidity clogs up my senses. My brain cells slow down (cells which when pushing 60 are not in abundant supply to begin with), my skin feels heavy and my hair is forever in a clip for fear that the sphagnum moss clump of damp frazzled follicles would touch my neck…talk about the willies!

And then there is the miracle of what humidity spawns by the gross…mosquitoes and gants.  These biting carnivorous insects, apparently like dragonflies, can propagate in midair 24/7. But unlike dragonflies do not adorn tea towels and find themsleves the inspiration for expensive jewelry. These malaria malice-harboring maggots thrive in wetlands. A can of old soda can be a wetland. And do they buzz in my ears intentionally to taunt my failing eyesight, or are those just the ones assigned to my head? The buzzing of mosquitoes is past fingers nails on a chalkboard in my estimation because when the sound passes there is still harm afoot, or a wing.  One summer at camp a fellow counselor accused me of trying to kill her just because I doused the bedroom with RAID before I went to bed (1/2 can a night). Sue me. I can not sleep with insects of any kind in the room. Mosquitoes, mosquito-eaters, flies, moths, and lord help anyone in the house (or the neighborhood for that matter) the night I hear a cricket inside. The room will look like a scene from CSI, I believe the term is “tossed”.

So with the air conditioners blasting, not to cool so much as to de-humidifty my office, I’m staying sequestered wondering when the “misty moisty bug ridden weather” will dry  up and blow away critters in tow. I think I am looking at January.

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Fed up with your current relationship? Here’s the cure. Get thee to a Class Reunion. There is nothing like seeing old familiar faces to remember why you either married your HS sweetheart and settled into your home town or why you ran away so fast from your Alma Mater that the school track still has the spot where your US Keds laid rubber. And here’s a hot tip: forget all that fantasy about finding your true soulmate at your class reunion. If they didn’t look good to you back in High School, age does not improve things (appearances, health, finances–that stuff plummets faster after 40 years than the Dow Jones). I’m just saying don’t go to a Class Reunion to cruise. For one thing these people remember you when you had braces and zits for another they are never going to be able to retire either! So what’s to gain?

And for the record, most people don’t bring their spouses to a Reunion for a good reason. It’s not so they can fool around, or even because their spouses may get bored while attending. You don’t bring your spouse to a reunion because when you’re about to jump up onto the bar and boog-a-loo in your support hose you don’t want to hear your spouse’s voice over the din saying, “should I speed dial your orthopedic surgeon or go right for the paramedics, Nana?”

So if romance is not a good reason to attend a Reunion, what is?

Laughter and finally a sense of belonging.  I was never “in crowd” material, but when you start outliving people, the epicenter changes in a hurry. With the playing field leveled out a bit we all gussied up and swapped memories of first loves, first jobs, and cutting class. It was so American. Bring me your tired, your weak, your huddled masses…of cellulite. We were rekindling our youth; in fact, there was enough Retin A and Rogaine in the place you could have lit a match on that kindling and had S’mores for a week. We let it all hang out (as if we could stop it).                         

But something magical does happen when people reunite. I for one was energized by the fun of talking with people who all shared a common past. I felt like Eliza Doolittle on RedBull, “I could have danced all night. I could have danced all night and still have begged for more.” Granted the begging I was doing at 1am was for BenGay. Yes, okay, I wanted to be young and vivacious again, and I did it. I just couldn’t sustain it for very long. But, byjingo, like fine wine and good cheese I felt I was a better person for all the years that had passed. Albeit this good cheese is less like a snappy Vermont cheddar and more like something you’d find in the back of the refrigerator looking like a science project. The trick was to scrape off the gray-green mold for a night and pass for the Sell-By-Date. Thanks to L’oreal and low wattage bulbs I was off and teetering.

I don’t Iike the fact that I am over a half century old. And yes, I will own that I had a part in my aging process. But who knew cherry cokes and burgers were rotting my innards? And my outters? Oy vey! As teenagers we put bottles of baby oil “all over our bodies” and went out unprotected in the sun for days on end (pun intended). It’s amazing we have any skin left. (Talk about Cracklin’ Rosey!) If I’d known what George Hamilton was going to look like back then I’d thought twice about the advice to “sing in the sunshine and laugh everyday” (thank you Ms. Dusty Springfield, easy for you to say, you could afford the collagen!)

This is not to say folks from my school are unattractive now. The opposite is true. There was always an inordinate contingency of the Barbie and Ken look-a-likes in my class. In my school you’d call in sick if you had a blemish that didn’t airbrush out by the time the bus came. More girls stayed home for a month with nose jobs than with mono. Even now, four decades later this was a handsome and still preppy crowd.

But being older means we’re just a tad savvy enough not to be too impressed with bragging. Gone was the earlier Class Reunion conversation of one-upmanship. No one cared how many houses you owned now, because we all knew you couldn’t sell them in this market if they came with hookers and free cable.

This time around people were generous and kind. “You look great!” “You look like your yearbook picture.” “I’d know you anywhere.” This was all sincere. But it was also coming from a group that put together couldn’t read an eye chart. Even with contacts, heck, even new corneas recognition was more a game of conjecture and 48 point type on the name badges.

FYI: My lasik surgery was 15 years ago. I can see street signs in the distance. So, I just have to memorize them for when I get up there.  Stop and go traffic can really wreak havoc with this system. (being partially deaf, adds a level of competition. Ha! Try that on your video games!) Thus, for me, meeting my classmates at an elbow room only cocktail party was “a close encounter of the absurd kind”, I saw shapes…many shapes most thicker, creased and shorter. I could have taken a wrong turn, ended up at the local zoo, landed in the elephant habitat and been talking to elephant knees for the evening and been none the wiser. Okay, that’s not completely true. The pachyderm parts I saw at the Reunion had on Hawaiian shirts and the afore mentioned large print name tags.

Adding insult to injury, I was unable to find my glasses or locate my eyeballs long enough to put in  contact lenses, so I wandered through the Reunion squinting. It’s a nice effect on the face. Think multiple layers of pleats from my eyebrows to my chin(s). When my pictures came back I looked like I had been wearing 24 sheer curtain panels on both sides of my eyes and all of them had been shoved onto 2 inch curtain rods. Not exactly the “look” I was going for!

In retrospect, I’m going to suggest that our 50th Reunion should have a theme, Masquerade. And as far as those photos that are circulating the internet, I am downloading them and adjusting them, cause that’s why God made Photoshop, especially the Blur Tool!

There was another GREAT part of the reunion, besides finding out folks have aged at the same rate as I did. I found out that the great tidal wave of misery that hits me about every 7-10 years since I left the protection of my parent’s home was not my fault (at worst) and (at best) is not just my bad luck.  It turns out other folks have had their share of hard knocks as well and always had so, but now were willing to spill the beans.

I swear, some days over the last 40 years it felt as if a wall of death, destruction, depression, debt, divorce, and disease (dang there are a lots of unpleasant “D” words)…that wall was falling on my head alone. I was exhausted. I felt as if I was always playing catch up to be equal with my classmates, but just like “Shoots and Ladders”… winning eluded me. I’d seem close and BANG! the dreaded wall of diphtheria-doused- dung was knocking on my door.

But it wasn’t true! I don’t mean to relish in anyone’s misfortune…but thanks to the Reunion and a few “umbrella drinks” at the bar I have now divined that other people have had to deal with same damnable life distractions as have I. So it’s true! Misery does love company, especially when it comes in demitasse diets of dramatically diabolical dismal diatribes of doom. (Somebody rip the “D” section of the dictionary outta my hands, will ya?) Good thing I haven’t developed any Compulsive Disorders as I’ve aged!

So there you have it.

Class Reunions are good to get perspective. You’re old but you’re not dead yet, so go out and make a difference somewhere. You’ve had it bad, but the only people who have no problems are in the cemetery. You ache, you’re partly deaf, you’re wrinkled, but you won’t notice it unless you start dating a 30 year old (besides, those critters are disease ridden). So Boomers, remember, REunited we stand, ur because well, without our walkers, canes and new knees we can’t stand alone.

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Recession Aggression!

We are all in the same boat but someone ELSE is getting bail-out help!

I don’t care who’s in the White House, somebody has had their mitts on my sh&# for a long time! And here’s irony for you. Turns out even if I was really, really smart with lots and lots of money (and I had neither)…this recession was gonna bite me in the butt. Put it in the stock market; poof, bye-bye. Outsmart the market and put it in real estate; can you say “foreclosure” boys and girls? My real estate holdings are not only NOT  liquid they’re poly carbonized, c(k)ryptonite sub-zero solid! And equity my friend is ‘an opinion’ blowing in the wind, the cash is gone with the wind.

But when I heard about a stimulus package I had hope;, mind you I am not naïve. I knew whatever was in this so-called package would not stimulate me to a full out “When Harry Met Sally” table slapping orgasm. But I thought maybe a giggle; I’d even settle for a smirk. But Nada. No stimulus feeling over here. No sparks, no electricity, or (as I once overheard) not even static cling! What I do have is that sinking feeling when you return to your car with loads of packages and you see your headlights flicker to off and your automatic door key doesn’t work.

What to do? I know, let’s all take what gold we have and put it into envelopes and put it in the US Mail and hope nobody goes postal the day our check for thousands of dollars comes in. We can all do this. It’s just like when you tried to get that loose tooth out of your mouth for the Tooth Fairy. String around the gold capped tooth, slam a door, a few more tries, a little blood…badda bing, badda boom!. Or am I the only kid who did not know that Alfalfa and Our Gang used stunts for those dental procedures? These days I’ve got more gold in my mouth than in the jewelry drawer so get out the twine…Barbados here I come for that vacation the gold collectors promised me on late night TV.

And I don’t know about you, but this semantics game calling our economic woes a recession is so LAST YEAR! This is a DEPRESSION, if not the country’s, then at least MINE! Yes I know, just like all of my depression, it’s a result of my bad choices in life, but it is no less depressing. Can I get a witness?

Recession, ha “my grandmother’s petunias!” Yes, even with 2 people working 3 jobs each, folks are up the creek without a paddle. Taxes, association fees,  ballooning loans, reduced credit  line for no apparent reason (and lord help you if you miss 1 single payment, your one-way ticket to Debtors Purgatory is in the mail), not to mention the whacky new rules for credit scores, and zap, bam, kaplooey folks everywhere are being thrown overboard this Bad-News-Boat we are sharing.

 And the banks (who are supposed to be flush with bail out cash) are saying NO to folks who have proven they can pay back loans. So what is it, a bad retake of it’s a “Wonderful Life”?  (Cue Jimmy Stewart’s voice) “The banks can’t give you a loan Sam because Joe, here, didn’t open a savings account.”  Crock-a-doodle-doo! ‘Joe Obama’ and his esteemed Congressional Colleagues said they just put a ga-zillion dollars into the big bank account in the sky. ¿Donde esta el dinero,  señors?

I have a 401K plan and my peeps put $250 a quarter into my account which ends up being $185 by the next quarter. Screw the bonds, mutuals and T bills. I would be safer investing in bongs, rituals and Mr. T. “Mother May I, pretty please with ice cream and cherries on top, opt out for the putting my $250 a quarter under Ben S. Bernanke’s mattress?”

Word up: news on the street is DO NOT CANCEL A CREDIT CARD.  Yup. Even if it’s for SEARS and the nearest one is in Dubuque and you live in Poughkeepsie. And not only should you not cancel those cards you don’t use (and HAVE PAID OFF)…but get this…you are supposed to use your cards ‘every once in a while’. Why, so they don’t get rusty?

WTF! You are telling me (that would be the ‘me’ who is in 50 grand worth of plastic-ware debt) to go out and spend a little more. Hot tip: if I could spend “a little” I wouldn’t be in freaking debt, now would I?

Telling me to hold on to that card and use it occasionally is like telling an alcoholic to save their shot glass collection from New Orleans and use them every once in a while to keep the dust out of ‘em. Are you F%#@ing me?

The answer to the last question is YES!

So, let me see if I have this right. The way we get out of national debt and recession is to

a) keep calling it a recession so we don’t scare people with the D word

b) give bail outs to industries who screwed up (did you get more allowance if you spent all of yours by Tuesday???) and

c) continue to spend our money overseas in a war or two which was started on a—oh, let’s just call it a federal fib!

And the way I get out of personal debt is to continue to spend.

And, oh, yes, hope the bunko bail-out system trickles down my way. Which I am told I will not get a dollar of, even with a piece of land worth over $100,000 as collateral. So who is getting all the new loan money? I’m guessing it’s paying the salaries of the loan officers who are telling the rest of us to bug off.

We may be all in the same boat, but the Love Boat it is NOT! All the bailing help went elsewhere and we are all holding on to the sinking gunnels with masking tape, finger nails and “Double Bubble” gum.

Meanwhile, I am not bored with all this waiting around for a sunny day “tomorrow” (thank you ANNIE!). By no means, I wallow away the day waist deep in paperwork trying to show I am worthy to pay %6 interest and drowning in photocopies of past taxes returns. And yet the offers come for even MORE credit cards.

Agony, agony…I see it all now in 20-20 retrospect. This false economy all started when I bought my first “Pet Rock.” And then my addiction graduated to stuff from China via the Gotta-have-ta-have-it-Mega Materialist Store. As my grandfather used to say, “Too soon old, too late schmart!”

Living under an overpass in Santa Monica is looking better and better each day! I wonder if Pizza Hut delivers to Highway 10 and Sunset. And of course there’s always Yasgur,s Farm, right dude?

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