Drinking

6 Comments

I bought this new Camelbak water bottle that you turn upside down, put in your mouth, squeeze and the water comes out. It’s pretty cool because unless you squeeze it you can turn it upside down and the water doesn’t come out. Apparently, it takes a little getting used to.

The other day at pickle ball my friend Cooper was sitting on the bleachers waiting to play. I looked at him as I was walking by, turned the bottle upside down in my mouth and squeezed. Something went awry. I’m not sure if water squirted from my mouth or dribbled out but something less than elegant happened. Cooper probably knows.

“You alright?” Cooper sort of mumbled. I laughed and sat down next to him.

“What?” he said, “You look at me and forget how to drink?”

“Something like that….” I replied. We laughed until we almost cried.

 

IMG_0569

1483375836135

My friend Cooper with his friend (That’s not me!)

         The water bottle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_____________________________________________________

Hair Drama

7 Comments

Let me try to explain this to you. I’ve been trying to explain this my entire life. My hair is really curly. I mean really curly. It dries naturally in frizzy ringlets. I have tried EVERYTHING under the sun to love my curls. My bathroom cabinet looks like a beauty supply store with so many lotions and potions to try to love curly hair. One called “Be Curly” made my mom laugh when she saw it.

I’ve been to curly hair “specialists” to cut my hair in strategic ways and sell me products that were supposed to change my life and make me love my curly hair. Never worked and took as long to do the friggin’ process of putting all the goop on the hair, hanging forward to squish the hair as it air dried as it does to blow dry the damn stuff straight!

Once a year something weird happens and I don’t know what it is and my hair dries naturally and it looks phenomenal. That’s the photo you see on my blog….It only happens once a year so I CANNOT depend on it.

Okay, anyway, I know I have new followers and BY THE WAY THANKS TO YOU NEW FOLLOWERS! But you don’t know that I am a Pickle Ball player! Yes sirree! I’m 58 years old, I was a tennis player for 25 or 30 years and then my husband found pickle ball for me after I had back surgery because he was scared I wouldn’t be able to play tennis again. My mom calls my husband a “peach” and he is. I’ve been married 20 years and I’m madly in love. But I digress.

Pickle ball is a combo of tennis and badminton, and some say ping pong. I said in an earlier post I don’t get the ping pong connection except that we are playing with a paddle instead of a racquet. We play in a gym on a badminton size court and it is a fast, aggressive game that gets us sweating in minutes. It is so fun and so addicting. I play 4 to 5 times a week for two to three hours a day. I’m blessed I have that kind of time for recreation. I’m also really good at it, an advanced player.

Oh, has anyone ever told you about Dallas weather? Air conditioner one day, heater the next. Humid usually then suddenly dry. Ice storm then heat wave. I’m not kidding, it’s the weirdest weather I’ve ever seen in my life. Luckily my sport is played in a gym!

But, back to my hair. Women in Dallas use hairpieces. This has never occurred to me. I was intrigued and bought a thing that plops on a high short ponytail I create on top of my head. It’s the EXACT same color of my highlighted hair. I just pull my own hair up, rubber band it, stick the hairpiece on, pin it secure with bobby pins and I’m looking good and set to go. No humidity worries (it’s synthetic hair so it doesn’t frizz) It changed my life in terms of how long I spend on my hair and I’ve since bought a couple other styles of hair pieces!

I was at pickle ball one day playing hard and confidently. I made a great shot and turned to go retrieve the ball because I was the server. As I stepped to the baseline to serve the ball, my friend who was on the opposing team bowed her head toward something. There is the middle of the court was my hairpiece. I had forgotten to pin it in!

“Scary, Andie!” someone from the stands yelled.

“Rug rat!” someone else shouted.

_______________________________________________

No Parking!

10 Comments

I was waiting in the car while my husband ran into a store and I looked across the street at a business called “The Mattress Firm.”  I’m pretty sure it’s a national chain.  We were in a very busy and rather chic part of Dallas where parking is at a premium.  I saw a sign at the entrance of their parking lot.  It was clearly a very professionally made sign.  It read No parking except for Mattress Firm customers.  All others will be towed at the owners expence!  I was shocked!  My fellow writers, notice anything downright wrong here?  I wish I had thought to take a photo!

The Bike

2 Comments

 

I’ve always been generous and sort of acted affluent, even when I had close to nothing!! So weird. My stepfather put a roof over our head and gave mom a menial amount of money to feed us and that was about it. I’m grateful to both of them. They were doing the best they could. But if I wanted hair conditioner, chapstick, skin lotion or anything other than the utter basics, I was on my own. I started babysitting at 12 so that I could buy myself those things. I had major experience and credentials because I had a baby brother and sister born 8 and 12 years after I was who I helped raise so I was a successful babysitter from the start.

REALITY CHECK: In those days, I babysat for 50 cents an hour!! If a mother was gone for two hours, she would give me four quarters! And then I’d go buy my hair conditioner from Gemco!

When my brother Sean was 12, I was 21 waitressing making pretty good money for a young girl and it occurred to me that no one had ever bought him a bike. I paid my rent, my bills, my college tuition and my books by myself but I thought every young boy needs a bike. And if his parents aren’t doing it for him, I will! I thought.

So, I did. I went to Gemco, bought a gorgeous bike perfect for a young boy, the right size the right color and it cost me about $175. Big bucks in those days. I snuck it in on Christmas eve after the “kids” had gone to bed, put a huge bow on it with a card that said “Merry Christmas Sean!”

In the morning, Sean’s father (my step father) was very excited about this and took a little credit for it. This was a long time ago and memory is a weird thing but I remember Russ giving me credit but also taking some himself which struck me as soooo strange.

Sean never rode that bike once. He wasn’t a bike kid. I saw it rot on the side of the house. Maybe my Mom and stepdad knew something about Sean that I obviously didn’t. He wasn’t a bike guy!

Years went by but one time Sean said to me, “Yeah, but I remember when you bought that young kid that bike and wow, what that meant to that young kid!”

Even though he never rode it, the gesture made him happy and he never forgot it and that makes it all worthwhile.

Fun (And Funny) With Tim

10 Comments
“He’s going to have to close to perfect,” I told the owner of a dog walking service when I first moved to Dallas and was looking for help with my dogs.  “I mean, I’m going to have to be comfortable with him in my house, having a key and caring for my dogs.  I believe it is going to take a long time for me to find the right person, but you can send him over and I will meet with him, but don’t hold your breath.  Also, I hate hurting people’s feelings so when I call you to tell you he’s not right, please make something up so his feelings are not hurt.”


What I didn’t know is that Tim, a retired non-profit high level executive who had taken a part time job caring for dogs for pocket change, would be going on his very first meeting with a client.  He was brand new with the company.




The doorbell rang and I hesitantly opened the door.  The person who stood in front of me was obviously gay, had beautiful, piercing blue eyes, had amazing eye contact and I trusted him before he even said a word.  He was wonderful with my dogs and by the time he left, he had my house key.




Fast forward 2 and a half years or so….I stole Tim from the dog walking company to work for me and my husband at our home.  He is my best friend in Dallas and he does all our landscaping, helps with the dogs, schedules service people, stays here when Steve and I travel and much more.  In fact, he took care of me after my back surgery because Steve had to go on a business trip.  I wish I had on video the scene of him trying to get compression stockings on me in the morning and off me at night.  OMG!  I told him back then that it’s perfect that he’s gay because I am so Ir-friggin-resistible.  (hehe, I’m no spring chicken and I looked horrid after my surgery.)




So, anyway, last week we had a problem with the thermostat/AC in the master bedroom.  Yes, it’s still warm here but the humidity is really why you need the air on.  Tim was worried he couldn’t get the AC repair guy out fast enough and said, “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable this weekend?”  I said, “Yes, because I will be in a hotel in Houston and you’ll be staying here.  Will you be comfortable?”




The last time Tim and I took Haley to the vet we pointed out a weird growth she has on her head about the size of a pencil eraser.  They were all analytical and Tim was asking all these questions and then I said, “Hey you guys, about a year ago after 3 glasses of wine I pinched that thing right off with my fingernails and threw it in the bushes. She didn’t even wince so I know it didn’t hurt.   My mom did that to some wierd growth on the back of my neck years ago which is how I learned this technique.  Mine never came back, Haley’s has after a year but if you don’t want to complicate things, I’ll have 3 glasses of wine tonight and take it off again.”  Tim was hysterical with laughter, the vet and tech were kinda dear in the headlights.




A while back, Tim and I were talking and I mentioned a woman Steve and I know who Tim has also met.  “She’s gay, you know, Tim,” I said.  “Oh, she is?”  he asked surprised.  “Yes, Tim, everyone’s gay” I joked.  “Oh right, they just don’t know it yet…..” he replied.  We roared.




Tim and I have so much fun and he adds so much to my life and I’m so grateful for him.

          

      





							

  

    
        
    

      
Are You My Mother?
    

    
        

      

                                
        14 Comments        
                       

      
      
Just heard from my Mom. To me, she is the funniest person on the planet.  From the time I was one and a half years old and could understand what she was saying she has always made me laugh.  This is classic Mom:


I went in yesterday for a flu shot. They were giving them in the lobby of Kaiser which is big. I registered, waited my turn and was ushered to table number 3.






The pretty nurse said “how old are you?”






“I’m 80,” my mom said.






“Are you allergic to eggs?” she was asked


“No,” my mother replied.


“Have you ever had dizziness or disorientation?” pretty girl asked.


“No,” mom said.  “I mean maybe four times in my life when I drank too much champagne!”


“Normal,” pretty girl said.


“Do you have allergic reactions?” 


“To certain people,” my Mom replied.  (To those of you who know me, if you think I’m a rebel, you should meet my mom!!)


“Have you had any incidences lately with pests that felt disturbing in your life or left you feeling anything less than healthy?” pretty girl asked.


“Yes!” Mom said a little too loudly.  “There were deer on my redwood forest property in the last several days and they ate the flowers I JUST planted! SOOOOO frustrating!!”


“We’re almost done here.  Do you feel safe at home?”  


“Uh, I live in the middle of a redwood forest that is very isolated.  Are you referring to the person I live with or anxiety in general.  Are you a therapist or a person who gives a flu shot?  This is getting a little wierd….”


“Okay, final answer before I give you your flu shot. Are you or do you plan on getting pregnant in the near future?”


“Yes, as soon as I can.

          

      





							
  
  
							

  

    
        
    

      
Bubbles
    

    
        

      

                                
        9 Comments        
                       

      
      
The other night my husband Steve was stressed and achy so I drew him a bath. I lovingly put in Epsom salt for the aches and a nice smelling bubble bath product for the scent and the bubbles. Bubbles when you are in the bath over age 50 are a really nice idea. His bath was ready and he got in. I hung around in the bathroom with him. We’ve only lived in this house about 8 months and we haven’t taken a lot of baths.


“This bath has a Jacuzzi function, did you know that?” Steve asked me.


“Yes,” I replied.


“Have you ever used it?” he asked.


“No,” I said, “I don’t like chaos and Jacuzzi’s seem chaotic to me.”


“I’d like to try it,” he said.


“Okay,” I replied, “Let’s see if we can figure this out.”


Steve laid his head back while I fiddled around with the controls on the touch screen. Nothing was happening and then suddenly the jets sputtered and sprung into action. And I mean action. The bathwater and bubbles suddenly looked like a gigantic vat of boiling water on steroids.


Then the bubbles began to grow.


And grow.


“Before we knew it, bubbles were rising up from his waist to his chest and then threatening to envelope his face.


“How do you turn this damn thing off!” he shouted over the rising bubbles and the noise from the jets.


“I don’t know!” I yelled back as I was bailing bubbles with my arms and throwing them into the shower.  I had to keep bailing bubbles because they had begun to spill over onto the floor while I had visions of them filling up the entire bathroom.  This was a race against time.


“Try anything and everything!” I yelled, “Before those bubbles cover your face!”  I frantically kept bailing bubbles into the shower.


It seemed like and eternity but he finally did something that worked and the jets stopped. We stood there staring at each other. Bubbles everywhere! In his eyebrows, his hair, my arms and everywhere else.


“Relaxing bath, honey?” I asked. We burst into hysterics. “Steve, I’m going to go get my phone! I need a picture of this for my blog.”


“No, you’re not,” he replied.


Sorry, no photo!

          

      





							

  

    
        
    

      
Big Boy Troy
    

    
        

      

                                
        9 Comments        
                       

      
      
When Troy, our 100 pound golden retriever was young, we would bring him new toys and then watch while he ripped them to threads and found the “squeaky mechanism” which a dog could choke on.  My husband Steve would then gently take it from him.


Now, when we give Troy a toy, he rips it to shreds, finds the squeaky mechanism and gently lays it in front of his daddy’s feet.  He thinks it’s what Steve wants.


Two weeks ago Steve put shredded cedar bark on a plant bed in the back yard where the dogs spend a lot of time.  The dogs were thrilled and immediately took to chewing on pieces of it.  Troy got horrible diarrhea and I began monitoring their time in the backyard to keep them away from it.


Tonight when Steve and I got back from dinner there was a small pile of cedar bark in the living room.  I’m a positive reinforcement kinda gal so I rarely reprimand my dogs.  Today, however, I took the pile, showed it to them and said “No! No you guys, this is not okay!!”  They both cowered.  A few minutes went by and I got busy taking off my make-up.  When I came out, Haley, our little girl golden was hiding in a closet but Troy brought a stash of cedar bark they must have had hidden somewhere in the house and laid it at my feet.


(We never told him he wasn’t a lap dog…..)


IMG_0199

          

      





							

  

    
        
    

      
Stay Calm and Chive On
    

    
        

      

                                
        21 Comments        
                       

      
      
They must be chefs I thought as within a couple weeks I saw the phrase “Stay Calm and Chive On” on several t-shirts and bumper stickers. It’s the only thing I could think of to make sense of this phrase. I’m a cook. Here is a lovely definition of a chive:


Chives belong to the same family as onion, leeks and garlic.  They are a hardy, drought-tolerant perennial growing to about 10-12 inches tall. They grow in clumps from underground bulbs and produce round, hollow leaves that are much finer than onion.  In mid-summer, they produce round, pink flowers similar in appearance to clover.


One day, a week or so after pondering this, I was at the zoo in front of the gorillas describing behaviors and body language to the zoo guests. Many people at the zoo glom onto every word I say because they are so interested in gorillas.  On this day I noticed a young man and his girlfriend who were listening intermittently. She had long jet-black hair, a crop top, a nose ring, a belly button ring and a French manicure on fingernails as long as my fingers. He was laced with tattoos, several piercings while a knife swaddled in leather graced his belt loop. His t-shirt said “Stay Calm and Chive On.”


As I was explaining that chest beating really isn’t chest beating at all, but chest “cupping” which causes a popping sound when gorillas engage in that behavior, I thought, I’ve got to wrap this up for now so I can ask that guy what that means!


“Are you a chef?” I asked. “I see a lot of these t-shirts and wondered if it was some kind of Dallas chef promotion.” They both looked at me like I was missing a chip and glanced around self-consciously like young people do when they think an older person is going to embarrass them in front of other young people. She let out something between a gag and a giggle.


The young man looked around nervously. “It’s a website,” he said quietly once he realized no one else had heard my question. “A men’s website.”


“Oh, thanks,” I responded as they hightailed it away from me as soon as they could.


I could have googled it on my phone while I was still at the zoo but I didn’t care enough and I didn’t want to miss any awesome gorilla behaviors. When I got home to my Mac, up popped a website with hot cars, sizzling girls with big boobs in string bikini’s pole dancing, images of “wasted” guys and a wide variety of cool guns and knives.


Here is how the website introduces itself (This is copied directly from the website and pasted below.)


Chive On refers to the mutual understanding between Chivers on how to go about life, regardless of all the assholes, douchebags, posers, etc, who might fuck it up from time to time. it’s also stronger in the sense that it unites people who share similar opinions or tastes or those who just like to see crazy shit as it happens – it’s an underground social network, a family


Alrighty then…..


__________________________________________________________