Sunday, November 20, 2016
Monday, October 10, 2016
Friday, September 30, 2016
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Well, it’s come to that point. Yesterday, during our evening martini klatch, Sal said something really funny, and her very next remark was, “I should write that down.” She didn’t mean that she should write that down for posterity or our book; she needed to write it down so she could remember to use that funny line again in front of someone who hadn’t heard it.
We need cheat sheets at this age. Writing things down on the palm of the hand is a good start, but don’t use a Sharpie, because , “Buy 2 boxes of Preparation H” will be there for years to come. You won’t be able to shake anyone’s hand for fear that miscellaneous and copious notes will be discovered written all the way up your wrist.
I know that ALL of you agree with me on this one...How much do you trust the waiter who takes orders from a table of six without writing one thing down?? I don’t care how confident they look or how much they assure you they’ve ‘got it.’ All anyone would have to do to them en route to the kitchen is say something like,”How much is 12+27+49?” Poof!
I’m a secretary, and I write down every friggin’ thing anyone says to me between the hours of 8 am and 4 pm. I don’t care if it’s, “Change the toilet roll, will you?” That’s a good example too, because you’d think that would be apparent the next time you found yourself in the ladies room with nothing but an old, wadded-up kleenex in your purse from the movie you saw 6 months ago that was so hard it had cracked.
I wanted to tape the newest Ray Donovan episode, and it was the very first thing that popped into my head as I woke up in bed this morning, so I tossed the tv remote on the floor near my bedroom door so that I would have to step over it on my way down the hall, and then wonder why the tv remote was on the floor, thus jogging my memory into remembering something...not necessarily the Ray Donovan episode, but maybe to buy more face cream or give the cat her medicine or remind Sal of something I’d long ago forgotten. Are you getting the picture here?
Oh yeah, KK, it’s a sad thing. I can’t remember anything anymore. Wait, I take that back. I remember what I wore at my sixth birthday party, in detail. I remember that my best friend, Ellen McClatchy had brown and white Saddle Oxfords instead of black and white. It was almost a deal-breaker for me. But I can’t seem to remember that I have a load in the washing machine. It sits in there for two days before I remember and then have to rewash it because of the mildew. I decide to remind myself on a sticky-note to take the wash out and put it in the dryer, but as I enter the kitchen to write it down, I see Odessa trying to catch a wasp that is trapped between the fridge and wall. I don’t want her to get stung! What if she gets stung on her nose and then goes into anaphylactic shock or something? We would have to rush her to the vet and also spend lots of money for cat Benadril or an I-V - if we can get her there in time.
Where was I ….KK, do you remember that Ellen McClatchy wore brown and white Saddle Oxfords? I hate wasps. I hate the way their back legs hang down when they fly. They are nasty.
I was going to write something down. Oh, never mind, it’ll come to me.
Saturday, April 2, 2016
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Here’s the scenario...Sal and I were looking at a table in our little condo. Atop the table stood an old antique library lamp with a green glass shade. Sal moved something next to the lamp, and it started to fall from the desk. Everything slipped into slow motion, giving us plenty of time to think a myriad of thoughts as the lamp was falling to the floor. Neither of us moved a muscle to try to catch it. We never even gasped or made any attempt whatsoever to try to catch that lamp.
Therein lies ALL the difference.
We just looked at each other after the sound of breaking glass dissipated. Accusatory glares were exchanged between us, with guilt felt on both sides about not at least trying for a lamp save. Then we started laughing and couldn’t stop for a long time. It was an hysterical AH-HA midlife moment! Because, during the slow-motion portion of the fall, we both realized in a split second that we could do way more damage to our bodies than having to buy a new lamp shade, were we to make any sudden movements.
I pictured a broken hip, a pulled muscle from the reach and cut arms from landing in the broken glass because, I was too slow to the chase. You’ll hear what Sal thought (and Sal’s thoughts always surprise me), but this was a turning point, no doubt. This got me thinking. What doesn’t? And, I realized that, without even knowing it, we’ve crept into another, older category.
Remember how you used to be able to open a jar without the aid of a rubber sleeve or contraption that helps you grip?? When did that happen?
When I rise from my bed now-a-days, it’s important to stretch my arms up, do a mini-spinal twist to the left and the right then reach down and touch my toes before my ass ever leaves the bed. If something untoward were to happen to Sally in the middle of the night, I fear that, like the lamp falling to the floor, I would remain motionless until I could go through my stretching rituals...and by that time...God would be resting her soul.
Think about how easy it used to be to run across the street before the light changed. HA! Try it now, and see how far you get without breathing too hard, having your arches fall or pulling your thigh muscle. When we get caught in the middle of an intersection now, we just hold an outstretched arm with the palm up, while simultaneously creating an incredibly menacing scowl on our faces, practically daring the driver to pull one-half inch closer. It seems to work pretty well for us, especially when we do it in unison...double trouble!
Remember when it was a lot easier to get up from the toilet? I’m just sayin...
Oh, yeah, yeah, the whole lamp incident was so indicative of how our reflexes have given way to logic and fear for the ramifications of how quick movements can wreak havoc on our bodies. Sorry, Mr. Lamp, no wrenched back for me from trying desperately to stop your fall.
As the lamp began to fall, my mind also went into slo-mo mode as I watched it fly gracefully to the floor. I was thinking, that lamp is going to hit the floor and the glass bowl on it is going to break into a million, little pieces and cause KK to have a conniption fit. I remembered how, when I was a teeny, whip of a girl and I dropped Grandmother’s expensive, porcelain figurine of an old lady on a bench holding balloons of different colors. I always loved that little figurine, and I couldn’t help picking it up to look more closely at the slip of the old lady’s long skirt.
I tried to glue the figurine back together before Grandmother found out. I really thought I had gotten away with it until a few days later when she noticed that there was a shoe sticking out of the old lady’s head, and one of the balloons sat where her foot should have been, giving the impression that she had just given birth to a big, red balloon that had dropped out of her uterus and landed at her feet. I was thinking, ‘I have to forgive myself for that.’ Hell, I was only five years old. And all Grandmother did was tell me that I was silly and not give me a second helping of her famous mince-meat pie.
I was just beginning to remember the time I broke Mother’s plate that she had stolen from the room service tray at The Savoy in London. I was thinking about….
And CRASH! The antique library lamp in our condo hit the floor with a sound like a dropped tray at a cheap cafeteria. Are there still Furr’s Cafeterias around? We used to go there on Sundays when we visited our cousins in Lubbock, and our Uncle Bill managed one of them. That thought was going through my mind as the pieces of glass settled into the shape of a rearing stallion on the floor.
Then it was quiet in the condo. I would tell you what I began to think at that time, but it would take a hundred more pages just to get to the place where KK finished brushing the broken glass pieces into the dustpan.
Here are just a few things that went through my mind as she was heading for the mop-closet:
*When I was 25 years old I could have caught that lamp in midair and placed it back on the desk with the graceful movement of a ballerina doing a solo in Swan Lake.
*When I was younger, in fact, right up into my forties, my pillow-face was gone in fifteen minutes. Now it lasts for three hours and has spread to my arms.
*I used to spring out of a chair when called for cocktails. Now when I get up, I’m still in the same sitting position right up until the Vermouth hits the ice and I finally straighten up for our toast; ‘Here’s to not dying young!’
These days, when I break something…I pretty much don’t give a shit.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
- to visualize, when the trade winds are blowing me off my feet, the palm trees are doin’ the hula
- to be patient with SalGal when she tells me the same story for the 63rd time, knowing that the story I just told her, which triggered her old story, was one that I had told her at least 141 times before.
- to keep in my memory bank the feelings of what it’s like to have a crush...with a flush in the cheek, the adrenaline, loss of appetite...and the seventeen red flags that come with another ‘wrong’ man.
- to welcome every new wrinkle, skin tag, mole, brown spot, stray hair where it most certainly shouldn’t be, swollen ankle, toe bending in a new direction, abscessed gum and/or new acreages of cellulite.
- to stop myself from straightening paintings in other people’s homes.
- to start paying more attention to signs...both on the roads and in my head.
- to wish more, stifle less.
- to broaden my scope, embracing every new experience with arms open and a full scream of ‘BRING IT ON!!”
- to have more faith that we humans can actually save the planet.
- to always see magical shapes in the clouds
.......There! That ought to do it, serve me well, keep me sane and allow for modifications and/or expansions as the new year progresses!
New Year’s Resolutions are a drag. I make them but I’m not making any promises. A resolution is a decision, a determination, a solution, an expression of collective opinion…nowhere does its definition mention anything about a promise. I’m just sayin’.
1. I will do my feet and toenails more often. Middle-aged feet are really ugly…gargoylish. Heel balm and ‘Dragon’s Blood Red’ do wonders if you stay on top of it.
2. I will not cheat as much on the New York Times crossword puzzles.
3. I will erase most of the original ‘Twilight Zone’ shows on the DVR so that KK can get ‘The CBS Sunday Morning Show,’ ‘Meet The Press’ and ‘Locked Up Abroad’ back on the list.
4. I will not get mad at bad drivers. They can’t help it if they’re stupid. I just have to watch out for them and have ‘aloha.’
5. I will not put so much salt on my popcorn at the movies.
Okay, fuck it, that’s it. I’m done.