Filed under: Posts | Tags: Christmas, family, fiction, humor, life, Middle-Age, new year, sex
Happy post-holiday food and drink orgy – and welcome to a new year of ways I can embarrass myself (and sometimes my family). It’s been a long hiatus from this collection of stupid things I think about and do, but in the immortal words of Randy Quaid….I’m BAAAAACK!
Now many of you know I can be forgetful. I blame it on age; some in my house would say I have ADD and should stop calling the kettle black. Either way, this Christmas my memory played a trick on me of epic proportions.
A few weeks before Christmas, Hubby went on an on-line buying spree and accidentally kept sending things to Daughter #1’s (D1) house. So, he asked her to bring them up for Christmas, hoping against hope she wouldn’t open the one that had some female “enhancement cream.” (Now, before you start getting all red and judgmental, remember that we’re in our 50s and have been together for 35 years. Sometimes you have to shake things up.) D1 said she would. For the next three weeks Hubby festered and worried that she would open the package.
“Do you think she opened it?” he asked me at least once a week.
“No, she wouldn’t. She knows it’s for Christmas,” I would reply.
Meanwhile, said daughter called me as soon as it came and asked if she could wrap it up, along with the other things, and put them under the tree from Santa – and surprise her dad. Knowing that the girls and their very significant others would be there, I laughed and said yes. This Christmas was already super weird, so why not make it epic?
And then I instantly forgot about it.
The day finally came to open presents with the kids. The tree was beautiful, the fire was lit, and we were all taking turns opening our gifts (yes, we’re that kind of family). I reached for a small gift that was to me from Santa and opened it. Inside was a pretty pink tube of cream. Without thinking I sniffed it (peppermint) and proceeded to rub it all over my hands, thinking it was hand lotion. I glanced at D1 and she was looking at me with horror. Then she covered her mouth and started laughing. Hard.
It took a couple of seconds before it clicked.
Oh shit…it’s THE CREAM!!
I looked at my greasy hands and started laughing, too.
D1 had to explain what was so funny to everyone else. D2 was also horrified but somehow didn’t seem surprised. I don’t know if I just no longer shock her with how dumb I can be, or if she knew about it. Hubby was totally confused for a second and then just asked if it worked.
I never looked at the boys to see what their reactions were – but I’m pretty sure that was not on their holiday wish list.
Here’s the answers to a few FAQs I’ve received after sharing this story:
- No, it didn’t make my hands warm and tingly
- No, I haven’t tried it in its official capacity, mostly because I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS. But, I swear to God If the kids have taken it and are going to mail it to me again, that will start a war that I will win.
- Yes, we have updated the delivery address.
- No, I still haven’t found out what the boys think. I don’t want to know. But I can safely say they just got a peek into the level of crazy we are currently operating on.
So, happy New Year everyone! 2025 went out with a tingle…and rest assured, I’ll be ordering my Prevegen shortly.
Filed under: Country Living, mental health, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, animals, anxiety, Birds, cows, de-stress, family, health, humor, mental health, mindfulness, self-care, stress relief, videos
I know different people have different ways that they relax. My family, except for me, finds puzzling a fun, relaxing thing to do. Me? Not so much. I get frustrated and annoyed, partly because I don’t get instant gratification, but also because I’m competitive and it takes too long to get a win.
Wait – competitive…with puzzling? How is that possible?
Well, in our family, SOME people give each completed piece three annoying taps for completion emphasis. Dude, I saw it – no need to gloat-tap. Then there’s the secret and not-so-secret tally that they keep in their head…until they don’t.
So yes, puzzling can be competitive in our house, and it’s not relaxing.
But what I do find disturbingly relaxing is watching Nate the Hoof Guy on social media as he cleans, files, and repairs nasty cow hoof after nasty cow hoof.
It’s amazing.
At first, I thought I liked them because I love horses, and I also like watching farriers work at our barn – but it’s more than that.
Farriers of all kinds every day do back-breaking, precise work that requires a high level of knowledge, skill, experience and patience. What’s amazing is how much videos of what they do satisfy my need for the cleaning, leveling and instant gratification that comes from hoof cleaning. I think it’s a passive way for me to feel like there is control in a world where things often feel so out of control.
Yep, I could watch him sand the hooves, then scrape away layer by layer until the problem is found. Even the spraying away of all the dirt and manure and other barn funk is satisfying. And if he gets to the layer where an infection or abscess breaks through?
That is THE BEST.
And it’s not just horse people who watch these videos. I’ve had so many people admit that they also secretly watch them and find them satisfying. I guess it’s something along the lines of Dr. Pimple Popper. However, that show just grosses me out. Human fluids are just nasty.
Would it be healthier for me to just clean my own space better? Or spend as much time on my skin care routine as I do watching Nate care for those cow hooves? Probably. But if this is what I find relaxing at the end of the evening and it helps me wind down enough to read the same three sentences of my book before I fall asleep, well, I’m going to keep on watching.
Another soothing video to watch is the 3-hour video of birds at a feeder in the woods.
These were originally made for cats to watch, and that’s how I got started. Our elderly cat Izzy was sick before she passed away and became very needy. So, I set up my old laptop next to my work laptop and watched that video for hours at a time. She loved it – and so did I. Even though we live in the woods and I see virtually the same thing from my window, something about that video was incredibly soothing. For a few weeks after Izzy died, I still played the video to relax.
So, find what you need – it may not be videos, or reading – it may be music, or stretching or twirling your hair while staring into space. But in a world as crazy as ours is right now, I think it’s okay to find your stress relievers where you can.
Filed under: Middle Age, Parenting | Tags: adulting, family, health, menopause, menstruation, mental health, Middle-Age, relationships, women's health
Women of a certain age joke about menopause all the time.
“If I had a dollar for every time I get distracted, I wish I had some ice cream.”
“I don’t have hot flashes, I have short, tropical vacations.”
“Menopause – it’s a thin line between love and homicide.”
This happens…that stops happening … and thank God THAT doesn’t happen anymore (you can Google the symptoms – it’s not secret knowledge, despite what our mothers’ generation thought). I always thought that knowing those things made me have a pretty good handle on it, mentally. My kids are grown and I’m definitely ready to kiss the whole period/PMS thing goodbye.
So, when mine stopped happening, I diligently started counting down the months until the magical 12-month mark with no period – then it would become official. I’d be in a new stage of life that didn’t involve trips to the store because I ran out of tampons and packing extra underwear to take to work and on vacations (just in case). I was looking forward to emotional stability, sleeping through the night and becoming the wise old matriarch I am destined to be. I was even getting used to this new, fatty swim ring permanently hanging over the top of my pants, no matter how many sit-ups I did.
And then, at 11 months and 3 weeks – I got it again.
Are you freaking kidding me?
I was at the finish line, looking official Middle Age in the face and she laughed, said “Bitch, please,” and drew another 365-day line in the sand.
A couple of nights later (and one emergency trip to CVS for supplies), I dreamed I was pregnant (I’m not). And in that dream, I was very upset. I cried and wept, feeling angry and betrayed and trapped. I remember wailing “I don’t want to be 70 when my kid graduates college!”
It took me a few days to process what was happening with that dream. I finally realized that even though my body decided to have a last laugh or last gasp, whichever way you want to look at it, in my mind I had already moved on. I’ve raised my two wonderful daughters and experienced the joys and agony of watching them go through the ages and stages. I am ready to start a new phase of life.
That’s something the OBGYN, memes, Facebook and even your friends probably don’t talk about – the mental and emotional adjustment of menopause. I’m sure most women feel it is liberating, devastating, or some combination of the two, but we just don’t talk about that part of it.
Memes are way funnier, let’s be honest.
But eventually you either embrace or resent this new phase of life, this new you. You come to terms with it, or if you don’t, society will most likely not be very kind to you. There will be a lot of pursed lips and head shaking when you show up in your Daisy Dukes, 4-inch wedges and bikini top at age 60, no matter how in shape you think you are.
On the surface I was annoyed, but deep down getting my period again shook the fragile estrogen bridge (made of HRT pills and a secret stash of Midol) I was clinging to, as I tried to cross the chasm between youth and middle-age.
When I look behind, I see a thinner version of me chasing my children, arranging play dates, juggling work and parenting and a busy social life, and generally burning the candle at both ends without a thought. I see Hubby working hard and picking up the slack, leaping into the chaos when he got the opportunity, and juggling the same crazy things. It’s a busy, almost frantic life back there, and I get tired just watching them. When I look forward, I can see the other side, at least what we’re told is there: great, worry-free sex, wisdom, acceptance of certain physical flaws and changes that actually celebrate the life of a woman. I see Hubby and I standing together watching our girls make their own way in the world, their own families, their own memories. I see us figuring out this new existence together and connecting in a new way. I see us being the team we were in the beginning.
And I realize that I’m looking forward to getting over this bridge, despite the bottles of Aleve, the moments of missing what used to be, and the memory losses that are already starting to peek around the corner at me.
So, another 365-day countdown begins. Now, if only I could remember where I put my calendar….
Filed under: Exercise, Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, breaking up, breakups, couch potato, couples, dating, family, gym, health, humor, love, Marriage, Middle-Age, narcissist, reachers, relationships, settlers, sex, subourbonmom, Twilight
Daughter #1 recently informed our family that on the TV show How I Met Your Mother, they talked about how in every relationship there’s a Reacher and a Settler.
Reachers are in a relationship with someone who is out of their league. Settlers are with someone they believe may be inferior to them, either intellectually or physically – think Christie Brinkley and Billy Joel, or for those of you under the age of 40, Jason Sudeikis and Olivia Wilde.
Ok, ok, if you want to be intellectual about it, it could be anyone of normal intelligence who has married a genius of any kind.
So I started wondering: If this is true, what relationships would work better and longer?
Reacher + Settler: A lawyer once said, “You know 10’s don’t date 2’s, right?” Well, in my opinion, if they do it’s most likely not going to work, for two reasons:
1. There rarely are 10’s. Some people may think they’re a 10, but chances are they’re not. I’m not just talking about looks here – you can be a 10 in the personality department, or a be a 2 (a total D-bag). Either way, it probably won’t last.
2. These relationships are doomed from the start, unless the Settler (the 10) is a narcissist and the Reacher (the 2) has absolutely no self-esteem whatsoever, and they stay that way. In this type of relationship, Reachers will let their well-being be dictated by their desire to be needed by the Settler.
Think of Bella, the character in the Twilight movies. She is the Reacher (a young girl who is completely attracted to the all-powerful vampire), and Edward, the vampire, is the Settler. (Yes, I know what happened in the books at the end – more on that later). If their relationship had stayed the same, she would eventually have become just a blood supply to him.
Settler + Settler: This would appear on the surface to work, except that the relationship will become toxic. Eventually, both Settlers’ feelings of superiority allow them to convince themselves they are right, or at least that the other is wrong. In a relationship between two Settlers, each thinks the other must be a Reacher, and therefore must be inferior/wrong. “Asshole”, “arrogant” and “egotistical” are a couple of favorite words for two Settlers to sling about when they fight. Try to imagine what would happen if Kanye West or Taylor Swift got together, or even better, Hillary and The Donald.
Toxic.
Reacher + Reacher: This is the best combination. Two Reachers will be convinced they don’t deserve the other person, and will treat each other well. Back to Bella and Edward – by the end of the series, both become Reachers. Once Bella is made into a vampire, their unique vampire abilities put them on equal footing. Plus, both are so screwed up emotionally (she’s horrifically repressed, and he’s got some bizarre emotional need to be with a girl one tenth his age) they will never consider themselves Settlers. That said, most of the marriages I know that have lasted a long time have done so because both people are self-aware enough to know they are flawed, and that not many people in the world could put up with their shit the way their spouse has for the last decade or two.
But what if the dynamic changes? What if one of the two Reachers turns into a Settler? It happens. Think of the Couch Potato-turned-Gym Rat. The Couch Potato, who is in a relationship with another Couch Potato, should be happy (according to my theory) – until the Couch Potato decides she no longer wants to be a Couch Potato (because she watched the Twilight series too many times), and begins working out in the gym. Soon she’s rockin’ the six pack and has a whole new set of Gym Rat friends. She starts to look down on her Couch Potato, and becomes in her mind, a Settler. So, we are back to the first scenario: Reacher + Settler.
Does this mean people aren’t allowed to change and grow in their relationship? Of course not. It does, however, mean that both people have to communicate, and never stop growing and trying new things. Children try new things every day and grow exponentially. It’s one of the reasons they are so interesting to watch. Adults have a harder time trying new things, out of fear of looking ridiculous of being uncomfortable. But not trying anything new means not growing.
Trying something new doesn’t have to mean hiking the Appalachian Trail or learning to pole dance at age 50; it can be something as simple as taking an online class about underwater basket weaving, writing a blog, or starting a business from your home. When one person in the relationship stops growing and trying new things, they automatically become a Reacher. If both people stop trying new things, they become…Al Bundy.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Travel | Tags: cat, driving, family, Food, Holidays, late, Middle-Age, mouse, mousetrap, road trip, Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving is a time for families to get together, eat too much, drink too much and share WAY too many opinions.
Many folks (usually what I like to call “the Middles”, aka the sandwich generation) try to juggle seeing several crooked branches of the family tree during the holidays without offending anyone. To accomplish this, we end up driving all over creation with our kids texting in the backseat, picking up our assigned foods at the grocery store on the way or juggling a pan of some sort of casserole on ourr knees.
And don’t forget to grab that extra bottle of wine because, frankly, Uncle Jack is going to start in on (fill in a political topic here), and one of the cousins already declared “this time I’m not gonna just sit back there and let him say that shit just ’cause he’s a thousand years old. It ain’t right.”
It’s what we do.
It’s also why we’re often late (although sometimes that’s by design).
But I will never be able to top my brother’s excuse for why they were late one year. My brother’s known for being late; in fact we used to plan for it. We would tell him to get there at least an hour before we needed him. One year, he and his family were pushing two hours late for Thanksgiving dinner, and I finally called him on his cell phone to find out where the Hell he was.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
(What follows is the best excuse ever):
We were getting ready and heard the cat meowing like crazy. So I followed the sounds into the garage, and there was Jackson (their large calico cat) with a sticky mousetrap stuck to his face…and the mouse still on it!
Jackson had seen the mouse wriggling in the trap and tried to bite it. The cat got his cheek fur stuck on the trap glue, and was running around howling, with a trap and a mouse about a half-inch from his eyeball.
We caught Jackson and tried to pull the trap off – not a good idea.
Then we tried hot water – in 30 seconds we had an extremely pissed off, wet cat and lots of scratches.
In desperation, we tried cutting the mouse free from the trap, but Jackson was struggling so hard we cut the mouse’s tail off. Blood was spurting everywhere, and the mouse was still stuck.
Finally, cold water did the trick. We got the trap of and put the mouse out of his misery.
“So,” he said, “we’re going to be a little late.”
Subourbon Mom 