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With Apologies to Cousin Karen

I babysit for my 5-year-old and 7-year-old grandsons on Tuesdays before and after school — let’s call them GS5 and GS7, to prevent my son and his wife from serving me with a protective order. Last week, while I was doing dishes and the boys were eating bowls of sugary, colored marshmallow cereal (oh yeah, I’m that grandma), GS5 remarked to his older brother that one of his teachers always tells…

There was something about Ken, something I could not put my finger on ...

2022 Ken in his surgical scrubs and matching clogs. Eat your heart out 2022 G.I. Joe. When I was 10 I played with the trifecta of the newest, most popular dolls on the market — Barbie, Ken and Midge, Barbie’s BFF. There was something about Ken, something I could not put my finger on. No, it was not that — dolls in the 60s were not anatomically correct. It was his perfectly coifed hair, his pink…

Lovin’ Lucky’s

I've been known to spend an entire week contemplating which is better — Sam's or Costco ...

My day usually starts off well. I have Plans. Hopes. Dreams. A lot of shit to get done before I collapse on the sofa to watch reruns of “My 600 Pound Life.” Then … something small, inconsequential, of no interest to anyone but me suddenly pops into my head and I lose focus. And before I know it, it’s time to take a double dose of melatonin and hit the sack. Photo by Shreesha…

Enlightened by “High on the Hog”

I always told people I was raised on southern cooking, meaning the foods cooked by my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. I was so wrong. Turns out, I was raised on African food. Both of my parents were born and raised in Arkansas, but my mom migrated north with her father and siblings to find work in 1950. My Dad — her boyfriend at the time — wasn’t one to give up and soon followed. They…

When It Comes to Passwords, I’ll Pass

When my oldest son — who works in security in Washington, D.C.— comes to visit, he is always completely aghast at my total lack of securing anything. He runs around the premises every night, locking doors, planning the escape route in case of a fire, terrorist attack or a locust invasion, stocking up on bottled water and 20-pound cans of beans while wearing cammo and SWAT gear to take out my…

I’ve gotten crazier in the last year. I blame the pandemic. All of that time I had. Secluded. Social distancing. Avoiding people. A good time to work on the many projects I hoped to finish: Write a book. Sort through bins of mementos and organize them into scrapbooks. Design and sew a wrap skirt like I had in the 70s. Learn Spanish. Lift weights and sculpt some dope (… working on my Millennial…

Baby Squirrels ‘Nuts’ for Their Human Mommy

Abby, an employee of Blackburn & Green, a law firm with multiple locations throughout Indiana, had just left the Fort Wayne office and was heading to the parking lot when another employee called out to her. It was early May and a bit chilly and Abby soon discovered what her co-worker was so excited about. Two baby squirrels huddled together on the pavement, obviously in distress. The mother was…

As a lark, I wrote this silly ditty about my hideous (to my mind) body. In my younger days it was simply known as “Removing Ribs or Your Skull — Whatever it Takes to Be Slim.” Nowadays they call it Body Dysmorphic Disorder. I sent the ditty to a health magazine that was looking for New Year’s Resolution stories. My take on a lifetime of starving myself was rewarded with a prize of about $400…

Making Memories I Can’t Remember

Last week, I was enjoying a takeout meal and a glass of wine with my friend, Marcia, at our monthly StayIn Wine & Dine when she suddenly asked how long I’d been married. (She didn’t add “this time” which is why she is my friend.) I paused for a silent brain debate — was it 13 years? 14? 15? Gently coaxing, she asked, “OK then, when is your anniversary?” “Uh, the 30th? 28th? No, wait, I…

Getting Down and Dirty

I love the spring. Life anew. My yard is the size of a postage stamp, but it keeps me busy. My husband and I live in the house my Mom and Dad lived in for more than 40 years. Mom was a nurse and a Master Gardener. I am neither. While I don’t intend to hook up a catheter or assist in a triple cardiac bypass, I do love to putter around in the yard. Unstoring and cleaning summer furniture and yard…

The author has lost out on winning Indiana Mother of the Year by four votes — her children’s — every year since 1990.

Shouldn’t there be some kind of licensing system for those who wish to become parents? A license is required to fish, style hair or stuff dead animals, for crying out loud. This from a woman who probably could not have passed a test to have any of the four children she gave birth to. In the early 1970s I had my first child in southern California while married to her Marine Corps dad, who was…

Bricked in the Pandemic

Twelve months seclusion, walled in, shut off, isolatedAnd now, a ray of light, a gust of hope Life as we know itand need itand must have it is there, just on the horizon.Achingly close, yet still out of reachWe wait. It will come. It must.

From My POV, Acronyms Are KPC

I try to be a hip social medialite, but who can keep up with the ever-changing acronym dialect?  When this whole social media thing started years ago, I thought for months that WTF meant “Wait Till Friday,” you know, kinda like TGIF. It was only after I emailed it to my supervisor in a company memo that I found out differently. The 5-year-old explains the latest acronyms to Grandma. The…

Pandemic Incognito Brings Out Superpowers

The Cher-Wanna-Be I procrastinate. The day my hairdresser, Miriam, left for a 2-week vacation in Utah is the day I noticed I had rapidly gone from Honey Blond to Gluttonous Gray. The Activist I could not afford to fly to Salt Lake City for a root job and I could not go to another hairdresser because Miriam is also a longtime, close friend and it would have been like committing adultery. As it…

Tumorous Humorous: Goes Well With Pita Chips

I used to hate the way my face was falling to the earth, outpaced only by my thighs. Once a lady asked the name of the chubby dog that was wrapped around my feet. I had to tell her it was my ankles. The problem with growing old is that even though you still feel young in your mind, your body begins to crack and disintegrate like a human pork rind. A few years ago, when I was 60,…

The Boredom of Trying Not to Die or Poke Someone in the Eye

Every day melds into the next. Week into week. Month into month. And now, year into year. I always thought if I had more free time, I would get so many projects completed. Those bins of photos and memorabilia that need sorted, catagorized (or tossed) and put into scrapbooks; that bathroom that needs a total overhaul; the two books and eight short stories I’ve been working on here, there and…