Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman

Inadvertent Touching...Recap

2012-02-17T14:23:00.002-05:00

***Here's a recap of the story Inadvertent Touching thus far, in case you missed it.***

Recently, I went back to my new hairdresser, P, to get a touch up on my new fabulous hairdo that I've been sporting. If you haven't checked out that story, you can check it out here. I learned my lesson about going on Wednesday, thus avoiding the fumes that arose from the all-you-can-eat extrema burrito fiesta.

I believe it was on a Tuesday afternoon and the salon was hopping. It turned out that P had started teaching a class at the local community college and on that particular day he was teaching the new students in his salon. When he saw me at the front counter, he threw up a hand in greeting and squealed, "GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG, Hola`, Chica. My goodness, what has happened to your coif? P did such a fabulous job on you last time."

"Hola`, right back at ya'll. That's why I'm here, the gray is coming back fast."

"Oh, Chica, what is ya'll? It is just me, P. Anyway, you have come on good day, I am showing these P wannabes how to become a stud in the world of beauty and salon. Come sit here."

And with that I was led to the first chair and then immediately surrounded by a gaggle of cackling old bitties, three young wide-eyed teenagers and one young ex-Marine with a "I love doing hair" tattoo on his left bicep that greeted me with a wide grin and a strong nod. "Howdy, ma'am!" he said.

Over the next few minutes or so I listened somewhat stoically as my favorite hairdresser launched into the story of our first meeting and of our mutual agreement that my hair was a complete disaster. I was a perfect example of what not to do if you wanted to do your own hair or were too cheap (or broke) to go to a professional salon. "Come closer," he said to the class as he whipped out an iPhone from his fanny pack. "This is chica before and this is chica after P has finished with her. See the difference of what a professional can do?" he said.

"Hey, I didn't know you had taken my picture," I said.

"Oh, bambino, you were too worried about my burritos and my snake. You wanna see it again?"

"Wait a minute," one old bitty said. "I don't wanna see ya'all's snake. What kind of place you runnin' here? Honey, have you seen his snake before?" she said as she edged closer to the chair and nudged me slightly.

"Uh?"

"Whaddya' sayin?" she said and nudged me again.

I wasn't sure what I was nudged with the first time, but I became acutely aware of what it was the second: her boob. They were big and large and were laying straight out, almost in an upward direction. At least she had on a good bra I thought to myself...

...Yeah, she must have a really good bra on to keep those things up like that, I thought to myself. I was thinking about asking her where she did her undergarment shopping when I got nudged again. Stop touching me!

Now, I'm really a patient person and fairly easy-going but there is one thing that drives me absolutely bananas and that is being touched by someones body part when it is not supposed to be there, if you know what I mean. For that matter, I really don't like being touched at all unless I know it's coming.

I've been that way my whole life. I can remember battles with Sister over control over the best end of the couch and rides in the backseat of the family car, stuck in the middle between Brother and Sister riding on the hump, hoping that neither would reach over and pinch, touch or even acknowledge that I was there. "Mom, Sister touched me," I would moan or "Mom, Brother keeps calling me Froggy," which would then result in either a headlock and a noogie or a flick of my ear.

I'm not sure which hurt worse.

Pedro gathered all of his students around him as he prepared the coloring mixture for my hair. "You must be very careful when mixing chemicals. You don't want to turn your client's hair green or blow somebody up. Hee Hee. All measurements must be exact and precise."

The group watched in fascination as P measured this and mixed up that, and finally finished with a flourish. "Bueno! It is finished. Come. Now, let us turn, Chica, into a beauty once more."

The crowd gathered around me in anticipation, with Miss Triple Ds in the back row trying to see around the ex-Marine and a tall blond with even taller hair. "Mr. P, I can't see nothing from back here. Can I move up front?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Make way for Dolly up front," he said.

"My name's not Dolly," she said.

"Oh, I am sorry, Chica. You are all so new and P has not had time to learn your names, but it is because you look like Dolly, that I call you Dolly," he explained.

As she moved from the front to the back, nudging me in the process, she took her place behind the teacher and waited for him to begin. P turned around with chemical in hand and ran smack into the large, upturned chest that had been repositioned behind him. "Mos Dios! Aye, yigh, yigh!" he exclaimed as the mixture sailed out of his hand and onto the plastic cape that was draped over me. "Oh, Chica, P is terribly sorry. Dolly, where did those boobies come from?" he asked...

..."Oh, my goodness. What a hot mess this is. I am so sorry, bebe, but I have the super duty heavy plastic cape and it shouldn't leak through it. Even if it does, that shirt you have on does not suit you anyway."

I was too surprised to say or do anything except look in the direction of where the mixture had been tossed from. Somehow, I wasn't too surprised when I felt a now all to familiar nudge as the large-breasted lady busied herself with trying to clean up the hot mess that was splashed across my chest.

Nudge. Stop it!

I continued to sit in silence as Dolly and P now took turns dabbing at the spill on my chest. Dolly had grabbed the towel that was wrapped around my neck under the plastic cape and P had whipped out a few moist towelettes from his fanny pack. Meanwhile, Sgt. Hair, had worked his way though the crowd of stunned onlookers and now stood off to my right side, almost out of my vision. "Mister P," he said in a heavy southern accent. "I've got some more towels here, if you need 'em? All ya'll look like you done a fine job of cleaning her up, if you ask me."

Pedro looked at the ex-soldier and smiled broadly. "Thank you, Sarge, but I think we have it all cleaned up now."

My hairdresser removed the soiled cape from me and began searching for a new getup to replace it. "Does anyone have a clean towel for Chica's pretty neck?" he said with an extra ounce of sauciness.

"I do," said Sgt. Hair.

"Oh, good! Come and I will let you be the first student to place the cape and towel."

I smiled up at the ex-Marine with the cool tattoo and strong jawline and caught his smile as he leaned over my body to place the towel around my neck. Nudge. Holy Crap! Here we go again.

"Nice job!" said P. "Now for the cape. Make sure you do it with a flourish. It is all part of the experience, you see."

P handed over the new plastic cape to Sgt. Hair who now had moved in around behind me. I felt another nudge and then a whoosh as the cape sailed up and over and settled perfectly upon me. "Terrific!" said Pedro. "Class, don't you think Sarge did an excellent job?"

The crowd murmured in agreement with "Yes, great job" and "Awesome" and "I wanna try". Sarge remained standing behind me soaking up all the attention, while edging closer and even still closer to the back of my chair. Nudge.

Nudge. "Great job!" said Dolly...

Happy Valentime's Day...Stinky

2012-02-14T00:04:00.000-05:00

I was looking through Valentine's Day cards the other day trying to find just the perfect ones to give to family and friends when I became totally disgusted at how expensive they were--five bucks for a card--I don't think so. Anyhow, being the somewhat intelligent and extremely clever person that I am, I remembered getting valentines when I was in school for everyone in my class and they all came in one box.

Voila!

What a great idea! They each came with their own envelope and were generally large enough to be sent through the mail. The sayings might be seen as childish, but others might think they were cute and I could always insert a heartfelt hand written note inside. Plus, there were usually thirty cards in a box and they came relatively cheap. It sounded like a good idea...

...but?

...but?

I didn't know it would be so damn hard to find a box of ordinary old-timey valentines. Geesh! Here I was at Wallyworld and the only thing I could find was Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers and iCarly, and they weren't even regular valentines; they were stickers and activity sets. No, thanks. You can keep them! I left there and went to another store, then another and finally ended up at Dollar General, where I struck gold, or, so I thought.

They had boxes of valentines but the cards didn't come with any envelopes. Crap. I reached further down into the display where the cards were and I pulled out the very last box of valentines that had envelops. I was excited that something had finally gone my way, made my purchase and tore into the box of valentines as soon as I got into the car. It wasn't too long before my excitement began to fade as I realized that all of the cards had the same picture on them: A skunk.

Have you ever received a skunky valentine?

If I remember correctly, the skunk valentine was given to someone that you didn't like and for some reason I received quite a few. What does that mean?.

Do my family and friends really want to receive a Valentine's Day card that says "I love you...and...you're a stinker too?"

Happy Valentine's Day!

...Stinky!

Inadvertent Touching...Part III

2012-02-10T20:18:00.005-05:00

..."Oh, my goodness. What a hot mess this is. I am so sorry, bebe, but I have the super duty heavy plastic cape and it shouldn't leak through it. Even if it does, that shirt you have on does not suit you anyway."

I was too surprised to say or do anything except look in the direction of where the mixture had been tossed from. Somehow, I wasn't too surprised when I felt a now all to familiar nudge as the large-breasted lady busied herself with trying to clean up the hot mess that was splashed across my chest.

Nudge. Stop it!

I continued to sit in silence as Dolly and P now took turns dabbing at the spill on my chest. Dolly had grabbed the towel that was wrapped around my neck under the plastic cape and P had whipped out a few moist towelettes from his fanny pack. Meanwhile, Sgt. Hair, had worked his way though the crowd of stunned onlookers and now stood off to my right side, almost out of my vision. "Mister P," he said in a heavy southern accent. "I've got some more towels here, if you need 'em? All ya'll look like you done a fine job of cleaning her up, if you ask me."

Pedro looked at the ex-soldier and smiled broadly. "Thank you, Sarge, but I think we have it all cleaned up now."

My hairdresser removed the soiled cape from me and began searching for a new getup to replace it. "Does anyone have a clean towel for Chica's pretty neck?" he said with an extra ounce of sauciness.

"I do," said Sgt. Hair.

"Oh, good! Come and I will let you be the first student to place the cape and towel."

I smiled up at the ex-Marine with the cool tattoo and strong jawline and caught his smile as he leaned over my body to place the towel around my neck. Nudge. Holy Crap! Here we go again.

"Nice job!" said P. "Now for the cape. Make sure you do it with a flourish. It is all part of the experience, you see."

P handed over the new plastic cape to Sgt. Hair who now had moved in around behind me. I felt another nudge and then a whoosh as the cape sailed up and over and settled perfectly upon me. "Terrific!" said Pedro. "Class, don't you think Sarge did an excellent job?"

The crowd murmured in agreement with "Yes, great job" and "Awesome" and "I wanna try". Sarge remained standing behind me soaking up all the attention, while edging closer and even still closer to the back of my chair. Nudge.

Nudge. "Great job!" said Dolly...

Here We Go Again...Gas Pump Tips

2012-02-08T15:40:00.002-05:00

****Time to revisit these handy tips since gas prices are going nuts again.****

These handy tips were forwarded to me in an email and I thought I would share. In this day and age of high gas prices, every little bit helps.

I don't know what you guys are paying for gasoline.... but here in Georgia we are paying up to $3.40 to $3.99
per gallon. So here are some tricks to get more of your money's worth for every gallon:

Only buy or fill up your car or truck in the
early morning when the ground temperature is still cold. Remember that
all service stations have their storage tanks buried below ground. The
colder the ground the more dense the gasoline, when it gets warmer
gasoline expands, so buying in the afternoon or in the evening....your
gallon is not exactly a gallon. In the petroleum business, the specific
gravity and the temperature of the gasoline, diesel and jet fuel,
ethanol and other petroleum products plays an important role.

A 1-degree rise in temperature is a big deal for
this business. But the service stations do not have temperature
compensation at the pumps.

When you're filling up do not squeeze the
trigger of the nozzle to a fast mode If you look you will see that the
trigger has three (3) stages: low, middle, and high. You should be
pumping on low mode, thereby minimizing the vapors that are created
while you are pumping. All hoses at the pump have a vapor return. If you
are pumping on the fast rate, some of the liquid that goes to your tank
becomes vapor. Those vapors are being sucked up and back into the
underground storage tank so you're getting less worth for your money.

One of the most important tips is to fill up
when your gas tank is HALF FULL. The reason for this is the more gas you
have in your tank the less air occupying its empty space. Gasoline
evaporates faster than you can imagine. Gasoline storage tanks have an
internal floating roof. This roof serves as zero clearance between the
gas and the atmosphere, so it minimizes the evaporation. Unlike service
stations, here where I work, every truck that we load is temperature
compensated so that every gallon is actually the exact amount.

Another reminder, if there is a gasoline truck
pumping into the storage tanks when you stop to buy gas, DO NOT fill up;
most likely the gasoline is being stirred up as the gas is being
delivered, and you might pick up some of the dirt that normally settles
on the bottom.

Hopefully, these tips can help you save a few bucks at the pumps.

Inadvertent Touching...Part II

2012-02-06T11:41:00.004-05:00

...Yeah, she must have a really good bra on to keep those things up like that, I thought to myself. I was thinking about asking her where she did her undergarment shopping when I got nudged again. Stop touching me!

Now, I'm really a patient person and fairly easy-going but there is one thing that drives me absolutely bananas and that is being touched by someones body part when it is not supposed to be there, if you know what I mean. For that matter, I really don't like being touched at all unless I know it's coming.

I've been that way my whole life. I can remember battles with Sister over control over the best end of the couch and rides in the backseat of the family car, stuck in the middle between Brother and Sister riding on the hump, hoping that neither would reach over and pinch, touch or even acknowledge that I was there. "Mom, Sister touched me," I would moan or "Mom, Brother keeps calling me Froggy," which would then result in either a headlock and a noogie or a flick of my ear.

I'm not sure which hurt worse.

Pedro gathered all of his students around him as he prepared the coloring mixture for my hair. "You must be very careful when mixing chemicals. You don't want to turn your client's hair green or blow somebody up. Hee Hee. All measurements must be exact and precise."

The group watched in fascination as P measured this and mixed up that, and finally finished with a flourish. "Bueno! It is finished. Come. Now, let us turn, Chica, into a beauty once more."

The crowd gathered around me in anticipation, with Miss Triple Ds in the back row trying to see around the ex-Marine and a tall blond with even taller hair. "Mr. P, I can't see nothing from back here. Can I move up front?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Make way for Dolly up front," he said.

"My name's not Dolly," she said.

"Oh, I am sorry, Chica. You are all so new and P has not had time to learn your names, but it is because you look like Dolly, that I call you Dolly," he explained.

As she moved from the front to the back, nudging me in the process, she took her place behind the teacher and waited for him to begin. P turned around with chemical in hand and ran smack into the large, upturned chest that had been repositioned behind him. "Mos Dios! Aye, yigh, yigh!" he exclaimed as the mixture sailed out of his hand and onto the plastic cape that was draped over me. "Oh, Chica, P is terribly sorry. Dolly, where did those boobies come from?" he asked...

Inadverdent Touching...Part I

2012-02-01T00:04:00.001-05:00

Recently, I went back to my new hairdresser, P, to get a touch up on my new fabulous hairdo that I've been sporting. If you haven't checked out that story, you can check it out here. I learned my lesson about going on Wednesday, thus avoiding the fumes that arose from the all-you-can-eat extrema burrito fiesta.

I believe it was on a Tuesday afternoon and the salon was hopping. It turned out that P had started teaching a class at the local community college and on that particular day he was teaching the new students in his salon. When he saw me at the front counter, he threw up a hand in greeting and squealed, "GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG, Hola`, Chica. My goodness, what has happened to your coif? P did such a fabulous job on you last time."

"Hola`, right back at ya'll. That's why I'm here, the gray is coming back fast."

"Oh, Chica, what is ya'll? It is just me, P. Anyway, you have come on good day, I am showing these P wannabes how to become a stud in the world of beauty and salon. Come sit here."

And with that I was led to the first chair and then immediately surrounded by a gaggle of cackling old bitties, three young wide-eyed teenagers and one young ex-Marine with a "I love doing hair" tattoo on his left bicep that greeted me with a wide grin and a strong nod. "Howdy, ma'am!" he said.

Over the next few minutes or so I listened somewhat stoically as my favorite hairdresser launched into the story of our first meeting and of our mutual agreement that my hair was a complete disaster. I was a perfect example of what not to do if you wanted to do your own hair or were too cheap (or broke) to go to a professional salon. "Come closer," he said to the class as he whipped out an iPhone from his fanny pack. "This is chica before and this is chica after P has finished with her. See the difference of what a professional can do?" he said.

"Hey, I didn't know you had taken my picture," I said.

"Oh, bambino, you were too worried about my burritos and my snake. You wanna see it again?"

"Wait a minute," one old bitty said. "I don't wanna see ya'all's snake. What kind of place you runnin' here? Honey, have you seen his snake before?" she said as she edged closer to the chair and nudged me slightly.

"Uh?"

"Whaddya' sayin?" she said and nudged me again.

I wasn't sure what I was nudged with the first time, but I became acutely aware of what it was the second: her boob. They were big and large and were laying straight out, almost in an upward direction. At least she had on a good bra I thought to myself...

Remembering Dad...Year III

2012-01-29T00:03:00.000-05:00

Today would have been my Dad’s 77th birthday. Dad liked nothing better than having a steak for his birthday. Mom likes a Ribeye, but not Dad, he liked a T-Bone, the bigger the better. In recent years, the local steakhouse closed down, reopened, closed again, reopened as a church, closed again and has now reopened as a Mexican restaurant.

Confused? Me too!

So, in keeping with the family tradition, we’re going out for T-bones at the new Longhorn that has opened near where the old steakhouse once stood.

I’m sad you can’t be with us but we know you’ll be watching. I don’t know if you ever got to eat at Longhorn or not but I hear they cook a really mean steak.

We miss you.
Gopher

Wally

2012-01-26T23:35:00.012-05:00

Meet Wally, the newest cat!

Resting after a long day of reading my book

Somebody ate all of the cake

I love this basket!

Yeah, I'm looking out the window, so what?

Got treats?

Here's Ralphie...

Did you notice my spot?

It's you again, and you keep pointing that thing at me.

Hey!

I really love this basket!

More Matters Of Timing...Part II

2012-01-24T00:04:00.004-05:00

"Well, there's no water," I yelled back.

And there I stood.

Lathered.

Soaped up.

And no water. Oh, rats! Talk about having perfect timing...well, maybe imperfect, anyway.

What happened next was a scene straight out of The Bing Bang Theory where Howard and his mother are trying to engage in conversation.

"What'd ya say?"

"There's no water. I got soap everywhere."

"What happened to the water? You ain't still got soap in your hair, do ya?"

"I don't know what happened, you better check the water heater. And yes, I've got soap in every orifice and a head full of shampoo. The water heater is in the basement and try not to throw up down there." I yelled back as I started to shiver underneath my layer of soap. (The basement is very musty and damp and Friend throws up every time she goes in there.)

"Oh, crap! Isn't the hot water heater in the basement. I hope it don't make me throw up. I'll check the water meter too while I'm outside."

"You better check the meter while you're outside, too," I yelled back. Meanwhile, the water seemed to be making a comeback, albeit a very sparse trickle. My main priority was to get the soap out of the nether region because I was beginning to feel a slight burning sensation. I don't know how much time elapsed but in between drops of water I thought I heard Friend retching in the basement. "Find anything?" I asked. "Are you okay?"

"There's nothing down here. I just puked everywhere...*#^king basement. I'm okay, though."

Time continued to pass and I was performing contortions trying to get the slow-moving stream where it needed to be. Imagine trying to rinse off a layer of soap a straw full at a time. Not the most productive way, to say the least. I yelled for Friend a few times but there was no answer until I heard a comment from the kitchen. "I got your mail when I was checking the water meter and you're not gonna believe this? I told you that you should get your mail more than once a week."

"Who cares about the mail? What about the water?" I couldn't figure out why she was talking about the mail. At that moment the water came back on full force. "Never mind, the water is back on." I finished my shower, got dressed and walked into the living room where Friend was chuckling to herself. "What's up with you? And why were you talking about the mail, earlier?"

Friend pointed to the table where I noticed a postcard from the local water department dated from earlier in the week. Basically, it read that they would be performing maintenance on the water lines and to expect some disruption of the water flow.

What wasn't really surprising to me was the date and time of the scheduled maintenance: the exact time and date that I had stepped in the shower.

Charlie Brown ain't got nothing on me...

More Matters Of Timing...Part I

2012-01-22T00:04:00.001-05:00

"Oh, rats," as good old Charlie Brown would say.

Do you ever feel that you have the luck of this lovable loser? You know, the whole when it rains, it pours syndrome and you forgot your umbrella and parked your car at the very end of the parking lot which is now a newly formed lake.

To make matters worse, everything in your shopping cart is perishable and you ordered a pizza to have delivered to your house but now the road is shut down do to the flash flooding that is taking place.

In other words, your timing STINKS!

This happened to me the other day. I got up at my normal time, took my first pill of the day that has to be taken on an empty stomach and went for my morning walk. (That's my latest self-improvement project. I walk for thirty minutes while I let the medicine absorb into my body.) After that, I had breakfast and caught up on some reading. Friend had mentioned that she wanted to check out the new antique store that had just opened uptown, so I went to hop in the shower.

Unfortunately, I had eaten bacon and eggs for breakfast, along with three cups of coffee and now my guts were roiling.

This delayed my entry into the shower by a good ten minutes.

Routine is everything when I'm in the shower. Here's how it is supposed to go:

Turn on water and adjust accordingly before entering shower
Enter shower
Wet body and hair
Open shampoo, lather, rinse, repeat
Keeping shampoo on head in full lather during second washing while washing other parts of the body

...and that's when the trouble started

I was lost somewhere in song (singing I got the moves like Jagger) when I noticed the steady stream of water bursting from my shower head had started to lessen, to recede, then trickle and then dribble on down to an occasional drop. What in the world I thought to myself. "Hey," I yelled at Friend. "Are you running water in the kitchen?"

"No, why?" she yelled back...

Calling Publisher's Clearing House...Part II

2012-01-20T00:04:00.002-05:00

...I'm sure Publisher's Clearing House receives all sorts of weirdo and wacky phone calls and mine turned out to be no exception:

Publisher's Clearing House (PCH): "Hello, this is Ambrosia. How may I help you?"

MAFW: "Hey, I have a question about an invoice I received?"

PCH: "Okay, not a problem. Do you have the customer order number?"

MAFW: "Yes, it's 24567palm5671985."

PCH: "Could you repeat that, please? I'm showing one letter missing."

MAFW: "Uh, okay. it's 24567palme5671985."

PCH: "Okay, got it. Can you give me the last four digits of your credit card for verification?"

MAFW: "Hold on. I gotta go get it."

PCH: "That's fine, I'll wait."

MAFW: "It's 2837."

PCH: "Okay, got it. Now, could you please tell me your high school mascot for verification?"

MAFW: "Sure, it was a Green Devil."

PCH: "I'm sorry. That's not the information you entered onto your form for security purposes. Could it be something else?"

MAFW: "Hmm, not a Green Devil? Okay, try a Devilish Darling? And my shoe size is 10."

PCH: "Okay, that got it. I didn't need the shoe size, though." (No sense of humor.) "What can I help you with today?"

MAFW: "I received an invoice from you guys and I also received a bill from Vanity Fair. Am I being double-billed?"

PCH: "I'm sorry. I don't understand the question."

MAFW: "Why did you guys send me two separate bills? I thought I was supposed to pay directly to PCH and not worry about any other invoices."

PCH: "Ma'am, according to my records we only sent you one invoice and I don't know anything about the other bill?"

MAFW: "Uh, why not?"

PCH: "Why not, what?"

MAFW: "Why don't you know about the Vanity Fair bill?"

PCH: "Ma'am, Publisher's Clearing House doesn't offer that magazine."

MAFW: "Oh!"

PCH: "Anything else I can help you with? If not, thanks and I hope you win the million dollars!"

Me too, because at the rate I'm going, I'm gonna need a million bucks to pay for all of these magazines...

Calling Publisher's Clearing House...Part I

2012-01-18T12:50:00.002-05:00

As many of you know, I tend to get real excited about something and then go way overboard with it. Whether it's discovering a new dish that I've eaten somewhere and then tried to replicate at home, over, and over, and over again until I am completely sick of it. (The latest flavor of the month was a ham and cheddar potato casserole that I've eaten about six times in the last two weeks. Now, I don't even want to eat a potato, which for me is something truly rare.) Or, it could be reading about an event such as an upcoming 10K road race that I want to train for (Okay, maybe not), but you get the drift.

My obsession this time around is magazine subscriptions. It all started a few years ago when my niece sold subscriptions to raise money for her school. I purchased two or three like any good aunt would do and then got trapped. Yep, you know what happens when you get on some company's list: they send you solicitation after solicitation after solicitation and they won't stop. One day, I actually opened (my bad) a letter and read the offer: get two years of Vogue magazine for only $10. What a deal! I've never subscribed to it before, nor have I even looked at one, so why not try it? And that's what I did.

Well, that subscription led to more solicitations and now I have a stack of magazines approaching two feet high that I haven't even turned a page in. (I'm sure the publishers love me and I'm definitely sure the mailman doesn't. LOL)

Anyhow, everything wasn't too bad until I got my Publisher's Clearing House official entry. I'm sure I read somewhere that a purchase isn't necessary to win but I also think I read somewhere else that making a purchase (buying magazines) might definitely help. And talk about deals: 2-for-1 deals, multi-year deals, buy a product and get a lifetime subscription. Man, my eyes had glazed over before I stopped pasting those little stickers to the official entry form--I don't know which magazines I selected, but I'm sure it was 4 or 5.

A few weeks later I received an invoice from Publisher's Clearing House and Vanity Fair on the same day. The bill from Publisher's was for $75-something and the Vanity Fair was for $16-something.

Hmm. Am I being double-billed?

Of course, I didn't write down the magazines that I bought from Publisher's Clearing House and I don't remember anything about Vanity Fair but that doesn't mean that I didn't. (My memory seems to be lost somewhere in the past these days.)

The invoice had an 800-number to call for any questions and after multiple prompts for passwords, credit card info, my shoe-size and my high school mascot's name I found myself talking to a live person...

Confederate Bean Soup...A Paula Deen Recipe

2012-01-17T14:53:00.002-05:00

An excellent soup on a winter's day.

The following is a recipe for Confederate Bean Soup:

This a great soup to make when you have leftover baked beans. If you don't have leftovers, you can substitute Bush's baked beans. (I had that and I also added a can of Bush's hot chili beans.)

1/2 pound of smoked sausage, slice in 1/4 in slices (I used a whole pound)
2 slices bacon, diced (I used ham lunchmeat)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 medium onion, diced (I omitted the onions, because I'm allergic to them)
1/2 green bell pepper, diced (optional) (I didn't choose this option)
2 tablespoons butter
2 cups Bush's baked beans or leftovers
1 1/2 cups half-n-half (I used 2 cups)

Saute sausage, bacon, onions, garlic and peppers in butter until bacon is cooked. Add beans and simmer for a few minutes over medium to low heat. Add half-n-half. Increase or decrease h-n-h for preferred thickness. Serve with hot corn bread. Serves three or four.

I added some black pepper to taste and about a 1/2 cup of shredded cheddar cheese. I was very surprised at how well this soup turned out. I served mine with a bit more cheese, a few saltines and dropped the cornbread on top.

I made enough so that I would have leftovers. The problem is that I forgot I was out of Beano, so I'm sure they'll hear me all the way down in Savannah, at least for a few days!

Brother's Birthday...Year IV

2012-01-12T00:04:00.000-05:00

Now, it's time for another birthday. My big brother is celebrating his birthday today. His nickname is Boy, sometimes called Big Boy.

Boy is a fan of WW II and can give you all the information ever needed if you are building a house since he has a background in construction.

He taught me how to play football, throw a baseball for a perfect strike (complete with a full wind up) and how to play chess.

He also taught me how to chew tobacco, scratch my butt, cuss a blue streak, burp the alphabet, throw cow patties, use the tractor and manure spreader to drive to town for hot dogs and Sour Cream Doritos when Mom and Dad were working, castrate a hog and spit and catch loogies.

Most of these tricks I have since out grown! (Most)

However, it is good knowledge to have. You never know when you might need to do some castrating.

So here's to you! Happy Birthday!

Guess Who Is Playing Peekaboo?

2012-01-10T11:46:00.002-05:00

Better late than never--this year's Christmas tree!

Birthday Wishes...Year IV

2012-01-08T00:04:00.000-05:00

Today is my sister's birthday. In case anyone wants to know, her nickname is Big Red. Yep, she's got red hair and a fierceness to go along with it.

She resides in the frigid north where it snows all the time. Yuck!

I won't tell you how old she is (38) because that wouldn't be sisterly. She is older than me though.

Happy Birthday Sister! May you have many more and continue to do things that make me laugh.

MAFW

P.S. Your present is still on my counter waiting to be mailed.

Daily Recommendations

2012-01-04T11:41:00.005-05:00

Happy New Year!

Since it's a new year, I've decided to eat more healthy, get more exercise, have a better outlook on things and get my daily recommended dose of vitamins and minerals to help me be healthy, wealthy and wise.

As with all such recommendations, there's usually a catch. Namely, you'll go broke!

I'm a sucker for the impulse purchase of a magazine at the checkout line if it has a catchy title. One such magazine recently was First For Women which screamed "Dr. Oz's Rx for extreme weight loss", another headline read "Rev up slow glands" and lastly, "Drop 11 pounds in one week." Holy crap! I had to get this magazine.

After a lunch of tacos and bean burritos, I found myself with time to really delve into my new purchase as I sat trapped on the throne in my lavishly decorated reading room. I quickly found the sections that I was interested in and started reading:

1. Be 100% healthy with coconut---to shed your holiday 10, to dodge colds and flu, to make hair extra soft and shiny, to heal irritated skin, to speed up sluggish glands and to relieve feminine dryness---recommendation: 2 Tbs of coconut oil. Spectrum Naturals Organic Coconut Oil Unrefined ($11 for 14 oz., at VitaminShoppe.com) (Hmm, I do suffer from some of these ailments, maybe, I'll try it.)

2. Drop 11 lbs in 7 days with African mango---too busy to diet or exercise---recommendation: 150 mg of African mango extract. ($21 for 60 capsules, at drugstore.com) (I am really busy.)

3. Too tired to resist carbs---lose 50 lbs in three months with sea buckthorn---recommendation: Sibu Beauty Revitalize & Renew Sea Buckthorn Liquid Supplement. ($18 for 25 oz., at Amazon.com) (I do love me some carbs.)

4. Vitamin A protects against hearing loss---recommendation: 700 mg daily. ($9 for 30 capsules at any fine drug store) (What'd ya say?)

5. Years of fatigue vanished in a week---this brain chemical shortage makes 3 in 4 women tired---recommendation: L-tyrosine, vitamin B6, fava bean extract and mucuna pruriens bean extract supplements. (Balance D, $29 for 60 capsules, at iHerb.com)
(No comment!)

6. Make 2012 your happiest year---reactivate the happiness/energy area of your brain---recommendation: recitation of the Lord's Prayer. (Free)

I stopped reading there because that is the best recommendation I've read about in a long time...and the best part, I didn't have to buy anything, because I already knew it by heart.

Happy New Year

2012-01-01T00:46:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year from all of us at Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman!

We hope you have a safe and prosperous year!

Do something kind for your self and others and take the time to have a laugh!

Cheers!

Gianetta

And Still Another Year End Closeout

2011-12-31T00:06:00.001-05:00

Is it just me or does it seem that 2011 was a really long year?

Winter, here in the south was horrible--lots of snow, ice and unseasonably cold temperatures. Most days, I wore more layers than an eight-layer fruit salad. I looked like the kid brother from the Christmas movie A Christmas Story after his mom had dressed him up for school. Remember that scene?

Also, didn't it seem that there was a lot of natural disasters last year? From the earthquake and tsunami in Japan to extreme flooding in Asia, it was hard for me to watch the news some days.

Then came the middle of April when huge thunderstorms triggered violent tornadoes in the southeast where I live. Luckily, my property received no damage except for some broken tree limbs and a few frayed nerves belonging to one MA Fat Woman and one stressed out Ralphie (my new cat).

Early summer brought a new job for me (yay) of which I have now been laid off from (not so yay). I also began toying with the idea of putting a book together and getting it published (yay). After months of research, editing, more research, conversations with Sister, still more research, more conversations with Jenn of Cabbages and Kings who was pursuing the same goals and a weeklong kick of reading English Grammar Books about capitalization and semi colons, it was done. My first manuscript! Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman is now available for purchase in paperback and ebook forms. (BIG YAY!)

Also, during the late summer, we welcomed the newest cat to the family, Wally, who is quite a character and fits right in with this wacky family of mine.

In fall, Mom and I took a drive up the Blue Ridge Parkway and had a wonderful time. We visited Grandfather Mountain and Mount Mitchell, which is the highest point east of the Mississippi. We ate good and made lots of memories.

Health wise, I'm still on this side of the dirt and that's all that matters. I did lose 20 pounds which is good but I still need to lose more so I can become the Middle-Aged not so Fat Woman. I hope to maintain a fitness program that lasts longer than six weeks; I'm sure that would help with the weight loss.

I can't really remember what else I was supposed to be working on this year. My memory seems to be forgetting what it is supposed to do. Oh well, I'm sure it will come around and I'll think of something!

Happy New Year!

2011-12-29T12:55:00.000-05:00

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman

by Gianetta M. Palmer

Giveaway ends January 10, 2012.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

We Have A Winner

2011-12-27T21:51:00.005-05:00

Actually, we have several winners! I'm going to send everyone that took the time to leave a comment a signed copy of my new book.

So, Drama Queen, Mrs. Gray, a Melissa that went to school with me and Ruby don't take your love to town, watch your mail, because the middle-aged fat woman is on the way.

I'll be contacting each of you personally to get your address!

I'm also going to be giving away more signed copies on Goodreads.

And if you didn't win this go round, don't fret, because the book is available for purchase on Amazon, B&N, Kindle, iTunes and about everywhere, I guess.

Like one of my childhood friends said, "My son thinks it's cool that I know someone with a book for sale on Amazon."

You know what?

I do too!

Rudd's Christmas Farm

2011-12-25T00:04:00.000-05:00

***Enjoy this classic holiday post***

A holiday tradition that many people in southern Ohio enjoyed throughout the years was a visit to see the lights. Actually, it was called Rudd Christmas Farm and it featured almost a million lights by the time it closed in 1999. The light display was nestled in the hills of southern Ohio near the Shawnee National Forest in a town called Blue Creek.

I knew Blue Creek because that's where my Granny and Uncle Tommy lived. Each year after Thanksgiving Mr. Rudd would flip the switch and the twinkling lights would fill the nighttime sky with a dazzling display of electric sunshine. If you were looking for plastic Santa Clauses or mechanized Frosty the Snowmans then this light display wasn't for you. Rudd Christmas Farm celebrated the true meaning of Christmas, which was the birth of Jesus. Some years he would have live animals on display and a manger scene was usually set up in the barn.

We usually went to see the lights on Christmas night. We had spent the day at Granny's house--eating and running down all of the batteries in our new toys. As darkness began to close in it was time to load up in her truck and drive over to see this year's display. I don't know how we managed but we always seemed to fit 23 people in Granny's truck, plus a wheelchair.

The drive to see the lights was an adventure by itself. It was a couple miles back a curvy road with a large stream on one side and a big drop off down into a gully on the other. Throw in some icy weather and a couple tour buses and you got yourself a happening situation.

Once we unloaded and made our way through the display it was time to meet Mr. Rudd. Both Mr Rudd and my Granny had had large families. He didn't know who you specifically belonged to, but he knew you were one of Margaret's kids' kids. Greetings were exchanged and Christmas carols were sang with full-bellied gusto. It was a good time.

I guess the event that stands out the most about my visits to Rudd's Christmas Farm was the year he did something special for my family. Due to horrible weather and a death in the family we were unable to view the lights on Christmas night. We had several family members that didn't make it to Granny's house until well up into January. Granny placed a phone call and asked if Mr. Rudd might turn on the lights for a few minutes so we could witness the majesty of his display. Not a problem, he told my grandmother, come on over.

Now, that's the true meaning of Christmas.

Merry Christmas from my family to yours!

Gianetta

Christmas Eve Rituals

2011-12-24T00:04:00.001-05:00

Some of my fondest memories around the holidays occurred on Christmas Eve. It wasn’t the actual event that was so much fun but the preparations up to that special day.

My Dad would always help in the decorating of the living room. There are certain decorations that had to go in a specific spot each year. We always had red and green crepe paper chains that ran across the ceiling of the living room. We would take branches from the bottom of the Christmas tree and place them on the mantel above the fireplace. We had a fabulously colored gold and shiny tinsel looking thing that hung from one of the doorways.

My job on Christmas Eve was to always set out the different food-laden bowls in the living room. We always had a bowl with various nuts, mainly walnuts. We had a specific bowl for the fruit, mainly navel oranges that we ordered from the FFA each year. And you can’t forget about the cheese plate. (Which was my favorite.)

Both sets of my grandparents would come to my house each year for Christmas Eve dinner. My dad’s mom and my step-grandfather, both affectionately known as Mamaw and Papaw, as well as my mom’s mother and her brother, also known affectionately as Granny and Uncle Tommy. You needed to make sure you called Mamaw “mamaw” and Granny “granny”, or they’d let you know about it.

We would have a very big meal and then get to open our presents from our grandparents. I always knew what I was getting. Mamaw gave up buying us presents when we were really young. Instead, we were given money to go buy ourselves a present, which you had to wrap and then open in front of Mamaw.

Granny had so many grandchildren that all she could afford was usually a dollar bill and a pair of socks. I didn’t mind because I always knew that I would get a new pair of dress socks for Christmas.

Christmas Eve also meant something else too. That night the furnace got turned up to almost 80. Both grandparents were extremely cold-natured and we would have the fireplace going full blast and the furnace wide open. I loved it! I swear that was the coldest house I have ever lived in. The furnace had two vents—one into the living room and the other into mom and dad’s bedroom. There was an exhaust pipe that ran up through the ceiling and on out to the outside. The pipe was right beside my bed and I would hug it (it was warm) before I burrowed into my bed covered with about 15 quilts and blankets.

It seemed we were in bed relatively early and we tried to stay awake so we could monitor the comings and goings of the busy bees downstairs as they readied the living room for Christmas morning. I’m not sure what time they got to bed but everything was always perfect.

Our Christmas Eve dinners were always a lot of fun and something that we looked forward to. Sadly, several of the key players are no longer with us and they are deeply missed. We have a new tradition for Christmas Eve that we started after we lost Dad. I’m not sure why, but now we always go out for Chinese food.

New Book Giveaway...Contest Ends Soon

2011-12-21T22:33:00.002-05:00

There's still time to get your comment in!

I'm having a contest and giving away a couple of my books signed personally by me, the MAFW! How cool is that? Very cool, I'd say. HEY! You can laugh all you want to but I'll have you know that I am very serious when it comes to signing my name. In fact, I have been practicing my autograph since 4th grade.

It's changed a bit--I've had to ad the MAFW part to it, but I've had the old Jane Handcock perfected for a very long time. It goes something like this:

Oh, wait! The only way you can get it is to order a book from me or wait to win one. Either way, you'll come out a winner!

Anyhow, all you have to do to enter the contest is to leave a comment about why you want an autographed copy. That's it! Quick and easy. I'll pick the winner Christmas Eve and announce it on the December 26th. (I can't announce it on Christmas because I have a special post for that day.)

Again, just leave a comment about why you want an autographed copy of Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman the book and I'll pick two lucky winners to receive their very own signed copy.

(Also available in Kindle and other eBook formats.)

The Thing About Birthdays So Close To The Holidays

2011-12-19T00:04:00.001-05:00

I was doing some holiday shopping recently and got behind a group of people that included a grandma, daughter and several grandkids. The mall was so packed it was hard to get past them as they paused to window shop so I just fell along behind them as they lingered near several stores that catered toward a younger clientele. The stores that seemed to capture their attention the most was the Disney Store and the Build-a-Bear Workshop.

When the family stopped first at the Disney Store the children went absolutely bananas. "Oh, Granny, can we get a princess dress? Oh, Mommy, can we get a movie? Pleasssseee. It's almost my birthday. Pleeeeeeazzzze."

The daughter looked toward her mother who just shook her head and gave her an 'I don't know' look. "No, honey. Not today. It's almost Christmas and you're going to get lots of presents from Santa and your Aunt Susan and Aunt Alice."

I watched the children frown slightly as they processed this information so they stopped looking and continued on through the mall. What was surprising was that the kids accepted what their mother had told them and hadn't pitched a royal fit.

When we arrived at the Build-a-Bear Workshop the excitement started all over again. "Granny! Mommy! Can we make a bear? I just love teddy bears, don't you?
Oh, please! Cam we make one, please? My birthday is in TWO days. Pleeeaaase."

Mother and daughter exchanged another look and this time the grandmother said, "Sweety, you're gonna get lots of presents for Christmas."

"I know, but they won't be for my birthday," one said with a pronounced frown.

At that moment, an older gentleman walked up and everybody just squealed, "Grandpa!"

"What's going on?" Grandpa asked.

Granny and daughter informed him about the shopping they had done and wondered where he had been. "I've been sitting on that bench over there with all the other old guys," he said with a chuckle. "I saw ya'll over at the bear shop and wandered what you was fussing about?"

"Well, the kids were wanting some things for their birthday," said the daughter.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked.

"Dad, they are going to get tons of presents for Christmas. They do every year and we have this same conversation every year."

"That's a load of crap. It seems to me that it isn't the kids' faults that they were born so close to Christmas. Go ahead, get 'em what they want and I'll pay for it."

My thoughts exactly!

Get Your Free Copy Today

2011-12-15T12:33:00.003-05:00

Wow! I'm finally glad the twelve days of dieting are over. Nothing ruins the holiday spirit more than trying to watch what you're eating this time of the year. I did lose three pounds though, which is pretty good. I've had a ton of stuff going on and it's been crazy to say the least.

But, what I have been waiting to do is have a contest and give away a couple of my books signed personally by me, the MAFW! How cool is that? Very cool, I'd say. HEY! You can laugh all you want to but I'll have you know that I am very serious when it comes to signing my name. In fact, I have been practicing my autograph since 4th grade.

It's changed a bit--I've had to ad the MAFW part to it, but I've had the old Jane Handcock perfected for a very long time. It goes something like this:

Oh, wait! The only way you can get it is to order a book from me or wait to win one. Either way, you'll come out a winner!

Anyhow, all you have to do to enter the contest is to leave a comment about why you want an autographed copy. That's it! Quick and easy. I'll pick the winner Christmas Eve and announce it on the December 26th. (I can't announce it on Christmas because I have a special post for that day.)

Again, just leave a comment about why you want an autographed copy of Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman the book and I'll pick two lucky winners to receive their very own signed copy.

(Also available in Kindle and other eBook formats.)

Book Giveaway...I'm Giving Away Two Signed Copies

2011-12-13T00:04:00.001-05:00

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 12

2011-12-12T00:04:00.001-05:00

On my twelfth day of dieting my body said to me:

12 disappointing weigh-ins

11 times the MA Fat Woman has told me to pick up her new book

10 minutes of walking

9 times I've cheated (ate at Olive Garden)

8 glasses of water

7 slimy salads

6 sugar free Jello cups

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Thank goodness, that's over! There's always next year! Now, let's eat!

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 11

2011-12-11T00:04:00.001-05:00

On my eleventh day of dieting my body said to me:

11 times I've been told to buy the MA Fat Woman's new book

10 minutes of walking

9 times I've cheated (ate at Olive Garden)

8 glasses of water

7 slimy salads

6 sugarfree Jello cups

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 10

2011-12-10T00:04:00.002-05:00

Hey! It's the MA Fat Woman here. Have you picked up my book yet? If you have, then I say, "way to go." If not, I say, "What are you waiting for?"

On my tenth day of dieting my body said to me:

10 minutes of walking

9 times I've cheated

8 glasses of water

7 slimy salads

6 sugar free Jello cups

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 9

2011-12-09T15:53:00.002-05:00

Don't forget to pick up my new book for yourself or somebody special.

On my ninth day of dieting my body said to me:

9 times I've cheated (ate at Olive Garden)

8 glasses of water

7 slimy salads

6 sugar free Jello cups

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 8

2011-12-08T00:08:00.002-05:00

Have you picked up a copy of new book yet? It makes a great gift!

On my eighth day of dieting my body said to me:

8 glasses of water

7 slimey salads

6 sugarfree Jello cups

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 7

2011-12-07T00:04:00.001-05:00

My book is now available for sale on Amazon in paperback and in ebook form on the Kindle.

On my seventh day of dieting my body said to me:

7 slimy salads

6 sugar free Jello cups

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 6

2011-12-06T10:26:00.003-05:00

On my sixth day of dieting my body said to me:

6 sugar-free Jello cups

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

HEY! It's Christmastime! Don't you need an extra gift for Uncle Fred or "the take the present and pass it game?" Give a copy of my new book; it makes an excellent gift.

PLUS! It's now out on the Amazon Kindle!

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 5

2011-12-05T00:04:00.001-05:00

Looking for that perfect gift? Check out my new book; it makes an excellent gift and a great stocking stuffer.
On my fifth day of dieting my body said to me:

YOU LOST 5 POUNDS (all water weight)

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 4

2011-12-04T00:00:00.002-05:00

Have you ordered my new book yet? It makes a great gift for yourself or somebody you love!

On my fourth day of dieting my body said to me:

4 protein shakes

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

Boy, howdy! You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 3

2011-12-03T10:53:00.002-05:00

My crazy neighbor, Miss Merlethem Shatz, caught me outside today as I was putting up my Christmas lights. She said she had been watching me through the window and I looked like I could use a snack. Now, I'm always up for a snack, but she brought me one of those yucky tasting low-carb bars that usually results in a mad dash to the bathroom upon consumption.

I'm nothing if not neighborly, so I ate it and...well...it works great in my song.

Don't forget to buy a copy of my new book. It makes a great gift!

On my third day of dieting my body said to me:

3 low-carb bars

2 hunger pains...

...and a

You can do it! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days Of Dieting...Year III...Day 2

2011-12-02T00:04:00.000-05:00

I did really well on my first day of dieting. I finished off the no-bake cookies. (Now, I won't have any temptations!) Now on to day 2...

Don't forget to pick up new book; it makes a great gift!

On the second day of dieting my body said to me:

2 hunger pains...

...and

You're gonna do great! Just think how much better you'll feel.

Twelve Days OF Dieting...Year III...Day 1

2011-12-01T00:04:00.000-05:00

I had so much fun last year doing the Twelve Days of Dieting and since I'm nowhere near where I want to be I'm going to do it again! I know it's hard to diet during this time of year (Tell me about it. I just baked no-bake cookies.) but I figure if I try to be on a diet, I won't eat as much.

Okay, I'm not fooling anyone, but I have lost 20 pounds since March. That has to count for something, right?

Please join me as I continue my quest to become the MA not so Fat Woman. I'm sure you've heard the holiday classic The Twelve days of Christmas. Well, my version is The Twelve Days of Dieting.

Check back for added days and don't hesitate to sing along!

Don't forget to pick up my new book; it makes a great gift

On my first day of dieting my body said to me, "You can do it, just think how much better you'll feel..."

The Thing About Handicapped Parking

2011-11-29T12:01:00.004-05:00

If you've been a follower of this fascinating weblog then you know that the MAFW is an observer of many situations and problems that would otherwise go unnoticed. One such problem is handicapped parking.

Everyone knows that handicapped parking is a good idea and helps millions of folks patronize businesses that they normally wouldn't. The handicapped parking spot is great because it allows the disabled to get as close as possible to a business without actually driving inside.

But, here's the problem: Once they have finished their shopping and returned to their vehicles there isn't any place for them to return the shopping cart. I'm talking about large parking lots. Most cart returns begin at least six parking spaces down from the handicapped spots. The person is forced to choose between a spot close to the door and a spot close to the cart return.

Ever wonder why there are so many shopping carts at the beginning of a row and not in the return area? That might be the reason.

Wouldn't it be more helpful if they built a cart return area before the handicapped spaces?

Anyhow, the next time you're out in one of those large parking lots, check it out and see how close the cart return area is to the disabled parking spots. And if you notice someone trying to decide which way to go with the cart, offer to take it inside for them. You'll make their day and probably yours, too!

Cold Turkey

2011-11-24T00:04:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

Five years ago today I smoked my last cigarette. At the time, I never dreamt that I would be able to do it, and on the first try. I did cheat twice: I smoked two cigarettes on day four because I thought I was stressed. The next and last time was at the holiday party at work which was day 11. I inhaled about two puffs before I gagged and almost threw up. All of my fellow coworkers got a kick out of that.

That was it; I was done with it.

I did use the drug Chantix for about a month and did have some wacky dreams, but it was only temporary.

One thing that hasn't been so temporary was the weight gain. Wanna know how I became a middle-aged fat woman? I stopped smoking and gained almost a hundred pounds.

Holy crap! is right. I've heard all of the fat jokes, and it's why a lot people won't quit smoking. However, to all of you smokers out there, I may be overweight but I can outrun, outlast and out breathe most of you.

Think about this: You can buy larger clothes but you can't buy new lungs!

It's been five years for me and I have lost nearly half of the weight I gained. (I know, high fives for me.)

I went cold turkey the day after turkey day. I did it and so can you!

Looking For That Perfect Bathroom Reader

2011-11-23T00:03:00.000-05:00

Wow!

It's the perfect reader to keep you laughing while you're ...um...you know!

Show 'em how much you care: It's the Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman book.

Just click on any of the links and it will take you straight to the Amazon ordering page!

It's just the perfect size to slip into your purse or carry along in your man bag or backpack! It makes the perfect gift!

The Holidays are here, the MAFW's new book is the perfect gift for that hard-to-buy for person in your life. This is the book for them!

Need a gag gift for the office party? Is there a better way to show someone how much fun you like to have by giving a book titled Reflections On a Middle-Aged Fat Woman?

Show mom she's not the only middle-aged fat woman in the world and it is OKAY to laugh about it by presenting her with this funny book.

Makes a great stocking stuffer!

Hurry, get your copy today!

Seens From The New Restaurant In Town...Part II

2011-11-22T00:04:00.001-05:00

...Somewhere between "oompa loompa doompadee doo" and an encore of "Swingin'" the waitress brought out our order. I had ordered an entree-size Cheddar and BBQ overstuffed baked potato and Friend had the Fettuccine Alfredo. The waitress gave me another look and said, "Are you related to Don that works at the bank?" she asked.

"Nope, but I know who he is," I replied. "Man, you sure look familiar!"

"Well, the only other place you might know me is from Weight Watchers. I gave it up about three years ago when my kids started growing. Can't you tell? My ass is bigger than the buffet over at the Chinese place across town."

That comment left me slightly rattled and the only thing I could think of was how many points did my super stuffed potato have. (I was a Weight Watcher dropout too) "How many points do you think this potato has?" I asked.

"All of 'em, I'd say. But it doesn't matter because no one is watching. You enjoy your meal."

After a few minutes of silence (the DVD player stopped working and the country singer had ended his gig) we had eaten most of our food when we heard another round of music coming from elsewhere in the restaurant. Suddenly, I heard a banjo, then a fiddle. Next, was a bass and then something like a mandolin and before you knew it they took off on the "Foggy Mountain Breakdown." It was Bluegrass music and they were good, really good.

I sat through that song but when they broke out another fiddle and started playing "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" I couldn't stay in my seat any longer; I wanted to see them. It was a young, family group and they each took turns playing the different instruments and singing the lead and harmonizing.

I had a hard time not busting a move when they played "Cotton-Eyed Joe;" I didn't think the whole restaurant wanted to see me clog. However, it did cross my mind that if I clogged, I could gain a few activity points. (Weight Watcher lingo)

I walked back to the table, sat down and looked at Friend, who was crying. "What's wrong with you? Bite your tongue?"

"No," she sniffed.

"Well, what's wrong?"

"It's the music, Bluegrass music makes me cry..."

"Why?"

"I don't know, it just does. Parades, too!"

"What about parades?"

"They make me cry, too."

"Good heavens! (Oompa Loompa Doompadee Doo, if you are wise...) "You ready? I don't think I can take anymore."

Somehow, when we stood up to leave, the party of seven were ready to go too. They had remained pretty quiet after the first musician had left and didn't seem interested in the Bluegrass. As we followed them outside somebody's phone rang.

Guess what the ring tone was?

Yep, it was "Swingin'!"

And off they went again. Singing "Swingin'" as loud as they could...

Next thing I knew, the whole bunch started clogging. Well, slap my knee and yell yeehaw, this damn place is nuts I thought to myself as I got in the truck. The next thing you knew, there goes Friend, a stomp here and a shuffle there; she was clogging.

Friend, who is normally quite reserved, now red-faced and flushed from her short outburst jumped into the truck and before I could say anything, said "I don't know. I just felt like it. I'm having an off-beat kinda day."

Me, too!

Seens From The New Restaurant In Town...Part I

2011-11-21T00:04:00.004-05:00

I was having an off-beat kinda day when Friend called and suggested we try out the new restaurant in town. Never one to turn down an invitation to dinner, or anything that involves food for that matter, I gladly accepted. The new place was actually a new family restaurant in a building that has housed several previous establishments, none of which lasted very long. I hoped this one would be different because I had heard folks say they had good food.

They say you can tell a lot about a place when you first walk in the door. Holy crap! I opened the door to the new restaurant and closed it just as quickly. They had live entertainment and they were set up right beside the door and had the amps maxed out; it was way too loud for my dining pleasure. I like live music but not at 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon.

Friend had the same annoyed look that I had and we both suggested other options. That conversation took about two seconds because in my podunk town it's either fast food, Mexican, if its a Wednesday, Chinese or Fatz restaurant. That's it! No Red Lobster, no Ryan's, no nothing. With a mutual shrug of the shoulders, we opened the door, clasped our hands to our ears as we walked past the speaker and were led to a table around the corner and away from the music.

Thankfully, it was a bit quieter until the table of seven that we were seated behind started singing along as the musician belted out the classic John Anderson tune "Swingin'." "There is a little girl in our neighborhood, her name is Charlotte Johnson and she's really looking good. I had to go and see her, so I called her on the phone, I walked over to her house and this was going on"...and on...and on. They knew all of the words to the song. Luckily, their food arrived and they stopped singing.

The next thing that seemed strange was the waitress; she kept staring at me and I stared right back. I knew I had seen that lady somewhere and vice versa. While perusing the menus, another family that consisted of a mom, dad, female child and a portable DVD player were seated two tables behind us. Yep, they brought the player inside the restaurant and guess what the movie of choice was: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Hooray! More music...

Searching For That Perfect Gift?

2011-11-20T14:21:00.001-05:00

Wow!

Show 'em how much you care: It's the Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman book.

Just click on any of the links and it will take you straight to the Amazon ordering page!

It's just the perfect size to slip into your purse or carry along in your man bag or backpack! It makes the perfect gift!

The Holidays are here, the MAFW's new book is the perfect gift for that hard-to-buy for person in your life. This is the book for them!

Need a gag gift for the office party? Is there a better way to show someone how much fun you like to have by giving a book titled Reflections On a Middle-Aged Fat Woman?

Show mom she's not the only middle-aged fat woman in the world and it is OKAY to laugh about it by presenting her with this funny book.

Makes a great stocking stuffer!

Hurry, get your copy today!

In Case You Missed It

2011-11-16T22:26:00.003-05:00

I've been enjoying a little break from the blog; been working on promoting my new book and all. But, I couldn't let this issue pass by without a comment or two from the MA Fat Woman.

The headline screamed: Some Kotex Tampons Recalled Due To Infection Risk.

The Kimberly-Clark Corp. says it has ordered a limited recall of 1,400 cases of tampons contaminated with a bacterium that could cause serious infections and, according to the FDA, could be life threatening.

"We have so far recovered 98% of the product -- Kotex Natural Balance Security Unscented Tampons Regular Absorbency," Kimberly-Clark spokesman Bob Brand tells WebMD. "We are looking for about 300 boxes, each containing 36 tampons."

All I can say is that I hope none of the MAFW's peeps is in possession of one of these recalled tampons. Really.

I mean, really.

Just the thought of it makes me want to throw up. Could you imagine the conversation: "MAFW? This is Jon Dough calling from the USDA. It has come to our attention, that you are in possession of a box of tainted tampons. These items have been recalled and you must surrender any remaining product whether unused or in use. Please forward to the proper authorities."

Like I said before, really! We're usually already stressed out enough during this time of the month, now we have to worry about tainted feminine products....Really!

Don't forget to get my new book!

May I Have Your Attention Please?...Again

2011-11-10T16:09:00.016-05:00

Wow!

After three and a half years, it's finally here: It's the Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman book.

Just click on any of the links and it will take you straight to the Amazon ordering page!

It's just the perfect size to slip into your purse or carry along in your man bag or backpack! It makes the perfect gift!

The Holidays are here, the MAFW's new book is the perfect gift for that hard-to-buy for person in your life. This is the book for them!

Need a gag gift for the office party? Is there a better way to show someone how much fun you like to have by giving a book titled Reflections On a Middle-Aged Fat Woman?

Show mom she's not the only middle-aged fat woman in the world and it is OKAY to laugh about it by presenting her with this funny book.

Makes a great stocking stuffer!

Hurry, get your copy today!

Makes a great gift!

Up On Grandfather Mountain

2011-11-03T11:09:00.017-04:00

Recently, Mom and I were able to get away for a few days and headed up into North Carolina on the Blue Ridge Parkway. If you are unfamiliar with the road, construction began in 1935 during the FDR administration and wasn't completed until the Reagan years in 1987. I know, that's what I was thinking, "Just exactly how long is that road?"

Well, it is 456 miles to be exact and travels through North Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia through the Blue Ridge Mountains which are a part of the Appalachian Mountains. It's a two-lane road, mostly, that has a posted speed limit of 45 mph, numerous places to pull over and check out the views and different tourist attractions along the way.

One such attraction was Grandfather Mountain. The mountain features wildlife habitats, walking and hiking trails, picturesque views from the top of the mountain, and something I was particularly interested in, the mile-high swinging bridge. Here are a few of my favorite photos from the trip:

Wind swept tree up on the mountain

Nice view from the top

Warning sign for the bear sanctuary

Flower, the bear, held us captive for several moments as we watched her clown around.

My first closeup look at the swinging bridge.

Mom and I saying cheese and smiling broadly at the entrance to the bridge. Notice my windswept hairdo and mom's chattering teeth; it was cold.

My first step onto the bridge. No problems here. Never mind that the wind was gusting over 50 mph and I have a slight fear of heights. No worries at all....until I made it about halfway across and got nailed by a wind gust that was so big and loud that it took my scream away. I started to gasp, my head started spinning and then I started to hyperventilate. I took one look down and then I started to RUN. I made it across...barely.

Mom, who was slightly out of breath when I finally noticed her standing beside me, took one look at me and said, "Are you sick? You look green. Maybe, you need to sit down."

I agreed with her and sat down on a rock to get my senses back. The only thing I could thing of was how in the world was I ever going to get back across the mile-high swinging bridge. You'll notice there are no snapshots of either one of us midway across the bridge. I was surprised by my reaction. I'm not sure if it was the wind, the altitude or my Spam sandwich, but something about this experience wasn't agreeing with me.

After a few minutes I started to calm down. "I didn't think the height would bother me so bad," I told mom.

"I don't know about the height, but that wind gust 'bout blew me over the side. Did you take any pictures coming across?"

"No, I had my eyes closed for most of the way. That's what I'm going to do on the way back across, too, or they're going to have to take me outta here by helicopter."

This is the last picture that I took up on Grandfather Mountain. It was located halfway across the swinging bridge. Not too bad for having my eyes closed, huh?

Happy Halloween

2011-10-30T00:04:00.000-04:00

BOO!

The Scare Mare...Revisited

2011-10-27T00:04:00.000-04:00

I always enjoyed going to haunted houses and Halloween carnivals. Shoot, I wouldn't mind going trick-or-treating if they wouldn't think I needed to be committed or something. This time of year brings back an especially fond memory of visiting my first haunted house when I was in about the seventh grade.

Of course, back in the day, the only way we were allowed to go anywhere like that was with the church youth group. I had just become old enough to go with my brother and sister to all of the fun activities and this visit to the Scare Mare in southern Ohio was my first chance to prove that I was all grown up.

Church was all about getting everyone involved, so, I invited all of my neighbors to go along. There were several kids that were my age and we were having a really good time. We were standing in line behind my sister and her friends, and, I'm sure she would say that we were pestering her to death.

I remember it being very cold and waiting for what seemed like hours before we were close to the door.

Somehow, my sister got separated from her group and was forced into going in her kid
sister's group. And we were glad she did.

What sticks out more in my mind than anything was The Zebra Room. It was painted in black and white stripes and had a pulsating strobe light that made it nearly impossible to see. Nothing happened until this Merlin-looking character suddenly appeared from the wall and had blood drooling down the side of his face. He was headed straight for me; I screamed and jumped on my sister's back. Unfortunately, so did everyone else and my sister now had three or four screaming and crying adolescents on her back.

Thankfully, we moved onto the next areas and had people jumping out at us and folks pretending to chop up body parts. It was a little gory and gross. Our dispositions were improving some until it came to the slide. You couldn't go back and there wasn't any stairs; you had to slide down about thirty feet into total darkness. Every one of us balked at going down that slide.

My sister was tired of waiting and down she went into the blackness. I heard a muffled scream and a thump and that was it. People behind us were beginning to bunch up and we were getting a little upset. I went down the slide and was met with strong hands helping me up. Nobody was tying to scare you at that point; but, my friends didn't know that. All of them eventually slid down the slide and all behaved except the very last one. My young friend came down that slide kicking, screaming and slugging at anything he could reach.

He landed a punch on the guy that was helping him up and ran straight to my sister and hid under her coat. He was scared to death and was crying like a new born baby. Thankfully, the slide was at the end of the haunted tour and we were back outside in just a few moments.

My friend finally recovered enough to peek out from under my sister's coat and looked around at all of us somewhat embarrassed. Nobody said anything because we had all been scared at one point or another.

My sister got caught up with her friends who remarked about her going through The Scare Mare with a bunch of kids. They were all in the tenth grade and hadn't been scared at all. My sister looked over at her friends and said this: I was surprised, my sister and her friends weren't scared at all. We had a really good time.

Isn't that the truth? After all, that's what sisters do!

Whistling Chinese While Boxing The Cat

2011-10-25T10:59:00.000-04:00

Any idea what that means? I had one of those fanciful, rip-roaring dreams the other night where there was so much activity that I woke up just plain tired.

I was a ballerina in the Russian version of the Nutcracker that was making her debut at the National Opera House in Sydney, Australia in 1846. I was of Asian descent and was supposed to be of small stature but it seems I was a bit too, too much to fit into my tutu.

I'm not sure if I had too many shrimp on the barbie or not but I kept walking around my dressing room with a Siamese cat following me and nagging that I needed to get into shape or I would be the laughing stock of the Seaman Fall Festival. (Seaman is the town where my high school is located.)

Not sure how or why I was having cross-Atlantic and cross-Centuries dreams but I can assure you that the fall festival and the opera house are about as far apart as two worlds could possibly be.

Or, so I thought!

The last thing I remembered before I woke up was that I was a contestant in the amateur talent shows at both the fall festival and at the opera house.

What was my talent? Whistling Chinese while boxing the cat...all in full tutu, of course!

Sayings For The First Cold Snap Of The Season

2011-10-21T00:04:00.000-04:00

In honor of the first major cold snap to hit my neck of the woods this year, here are a few of my favorite sayings. Feel free to leave your own cold/colder comments in the comments section.

It's so cold that my Jack O'Lantern almost froze to death.

It's so cold that my runny nose is now a small icicle.

It's so cold that even Mother Nature has been asking for another blanket.

I wonder if I got any gas left in the tank from last year?

I don't. Can I borrow $500?

And my personal favorite, although I don't know why...It's colder than a witch's titty

Wordless Wednesday...Everyone Wants To Be A Clown

2011-10-19T00:04:00.000-04:00

Flower the bear having fun at Grandfather Mountain!

No Female Holidays

2011-10-14T00:24:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wondered why we have no National Holidays in honor or memory of a famous woman?

Me too...

Losing My Estrogen

2011-10-12T11:34:00.000-04:00

Please sing along if you remember the words to REM's Losing my Religion now affectionately known as Losing my Estrogen.

There are many benefits of being a middle-aged fat woman, or so I'm told; personally, I've yet to discover any.

There are so many changes going on with my body right now that I swear if I wasn't somewhat educated I would think that I wasn't a human being at all. Everything seems to be happening in reverse; Benjamin Button ain't got nothing on me. Let me provide you with a few examples:

Why is it that every hair on my body is turning a darker shade of gray with each passing year except...wait for it...the hair on my upper lip.

Have I mentioned the forgetfulness?

I am now an official member of the older society of women in my family. What is so special about this extraordinary group of women: You are now allowed to carry around your own personal Lady Bic Shaver for the purpose of extinguishing those pesky dark hairs without fear of being made fun of or laughed at.

We've all tried the tweezers, but that's too painful.

Some of us might have tried the waxing technique but ever since that scene in the movie Basic Instinct with Sharon Stone...hot wax and I haven't quite been on speaking terms.

Have I mentioned the forgetfulness?

Another thing that I can't seem to control these days are my emotions. I'll be crying tears of joy one second and the next I go almost completely bats*it crazy with rage. Thank goodness for Midol and Pamprin; they've become my best friends.

And don't even get me started on the acne problems. When I was a teenager I expected to have a pimple here and there. You woke up in the morning, stared at the small white bump, popped it and moved on; it healed within three days.

My menopausal acne doesn't behave this way. When I get one of those whoppers they stay around for three weeks or longer and bug the crap out of me because they're never in a convenient place..i.e..like my forehead or the tip of my nose. One little kid pointed at me one day and asked her mommy if that lady had diseases on her face. (No, honey, just monster pimples.) Nice.

Have I mentioned the forgetfulness?

I've mentioned to mom the changes that I've been going through and she just laughed, "Get you some hormones and give it about ten years. You'll be just fine. I made it through okay, didn't I?"

That quote took me down memory lane about twenty years ago, back to a time when mom was losing her estrogen too. You would have thought she was losing her mind; crying all the time, ornery as hell and it took 15 minutes for her to figure out which child you were. "I guess you did. You were a bit gruff sometimes, though, I think."

"Gruff? I wouldn't talk if I was you, you've just been plain grouchy. Go get some of them pep pills. I gotta go, my favorite song just came on the radio." In the background, I wasn't too surprised to hear the opening chorus of my new favorite song...so I chimed right in...Losing my Estrogen.

Seens From Mount Mitchell

2011-10-08T11:21:00.007-04:00

Here are a few photos from Mount Mitchell, the highest point east of the Mississippi River, (elevation 6871 feet) that Mom and I visited over the last week.

Mom on a bench

Mom looking out over the valley

Mom at the lookout

I love this picture of mom with the old man statue. Doesn't it just scream, "Howdy, partner?"

Looking For Leaves

2011-10-04T00:04:00.001-04:00

Mom and I are off on an adventure for the next few days. We decided to head up in to the mountains of Western North Carolina to look at the leaves in their full autumnal splendor. It snowed there this past weekend. One place we are going is Grandfather Mountain where they have a mile high swinging bridge.

Of course, you know there is always a catch with us and this time is no exception. Mom is scared of heights and I get altitude sickness.

I'll let you know how it goes...

I'm Real Egg-cited About This

2011-10-01T00:04:00.000-04:00

I like to watch infomercials. I've never bought anything but I like to see the new things that people have invented. I really like the kitchen gadgets. I have always wanted to try something cooked in a NuWave oven. As much as those gadgets cost, I'd really like to try it before I buy it.

Anyhow, I was flipping channels the other night and chanced upon a new gadget that got me really excited. I love deviled eggs but I hate to peel them. I wanted this gadget!

After a few days of being bombarded with this commercial, I decided I would bite the bullet and make the purchase. Of course, I couldn't remember the name of the product, so I had to Google it. Up jumped the website about Eggies, but before I clicked through to it, I saw another link to a "Try it, before you buy it" site sponsored by a television station in Maryland.

Well, I thought to myself, How smart is that? I visited that station's site and watched as they demonstrated the product. And I'm glad I did, too, because the results were less than egg-citing.

I'm a little disappointed, but that's okay, at least I won't be suffering any eggspensive charges on my next credit card statement.

It Ain't A Turkey, That's Fer Sure...Part IV

2011-09-29T08:54:00.003-04:00

..."I've seen wild turkeys before and these birds are definitely not turkeys. They don't have those things under their necks, combs or something?"

"Hmm, I thought combs were only found on chickens?"

"I don't know," I said. "Well, I gotta go, someone is knocking at the door."

"I hope it ain't Merlethem, he he," mom said.

I hoped it wasn't my crazy neighbor, either. However, I wasn't too surprised to see her standing there on my porch, shotgun in hand. "I'm thinking about going after those turkeys, you wanna have a go with old Winston, here?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Why do you call it Winston?"

"Oh, heehehehe, you silly girl, after Winston Churchill, of course. He's saved me arse on more than one occasion."

"Who? Winston Churchill? I didn't think you were in the war?" I asked. As many times as it has happened in the past, I should have known better than to ask Merlethem any questions.

"Well, back in '44, I was just a wee lass and we had just come through the roughest winter. It seems we spent every other hour down in the bomb shelters hiding from those blimey Germans. Whenever we ran into the shelters, we were always told to bring any form of weaponry we had. And this is how old Winston ended up in the Shatz family. Watch this!"

When Merlethem said that, I stepped back and watched in complete disbelief as she raised old Winston to her shoulder and got off two rounds from the double-barrelled beast. "Holy Crap! What in the hell are you shooting at?" I yelled.

"Look there. Look down there." I followed her gaze down to the old chicken house and saw the birds again. Or what was left of them.

"Well, I think you killed 'em," I said. As we walked down the hill to inspect the damage (two birds were dead) we were surprised when the last remaining bird flew over our shoulders and landed near his friends. "Well, Merlethem, it ain't a turkey, that's for sure."

"I guess not. Wretch! Thy God hath lent thee--by these angels, he had sent thee..."

"Huh? You're tripping again. You killed these birds, I hope you're gonna dispose of them." I said and started to walk away when I heard something behind me.

"Nevermore," said the last remaining bird to his friends. Then he turned to us and said, "I'm a turkey buzzard, you nitwits! Now, leave me alone. It's time for my dinner." he said.

And then he dug in...

It Ain't A Turkey, That's Fer Sure...Part III

2011-09-26T10:17:00.004-04:00

...As my mind tends to do these days, I soon forgot about Merlethem and her crazy words until one evening. I happened to look out my front window and was startled to see three large black birds staring at me along with one crazy old bat.

OH. MY. GOODNESS.

I was reaching for my camera when I caught Merlethem's eye or something because she took off running for her house next door. (Because of an earlier situation or two, her kids had put up a fence around her house that she was not supposed to leave from.) She was too fast for me but I was able to snap a few pictures of Huey and Duey, but as you can see, they definitely aren't ducks!

At that moment, my phone rang. It was my mom calling to see if I wanted to go with her to her belly dancing lesson and then out for a bite to eat. I explained the situation about Merlethem and the birds, and the early morning encounter and the sputtering of crazy words. "She ain't crazy," Mom said. "It sounds like she was quoting "The Raven" or maybe parts of it. Why don't you go ask her?"

"Heavens, no!" I said. "I don't want to encourage her at all. You know what happens when you get too friendly with her."

"You're right! You had to stay with me for two weeks the last time because she kept calling you and knocking on your doors at all times of the day and night. If I remember correctly, you 'bout ate me out of house and home too. I thought her kids fenced her in?"

"They did. She must have climbed over it or something."

"Ha, maybe she flew over. You always call her an old bat..."

"Mom? I do not!"

"Are you sure them birds ain't tom turkeys or something?..."

It Ain't No Turkey, That's Fer Sure...Part II

2011-09-23T11:19:00.004-04:00

...Anyhow, the next few weeks passed uneventfully without any sightings of the birds or my wacky neighbor until one early morning. It was barely daylight and I was outside packing up the car to head out to the flea market when I heard an eerie moan and the following from somewhere near my neighbor's house.

"Whhhooo, prithy, once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore. While I nodded, nearly napping, SUDDENLY there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door..."

"Merlethem, is that you?" I asked. "Who are you talking to? You scared me a little bit." At that point, in the early morning light, I heard a whoosh and a flapping of wings as something very large took flight just over my head. "What the hell is it? Are those buzzards back?" I yelled.

Melethem, whom without my noticing was now standing directly behind me. "Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; 'Tis the wind and nothing more."

"What are you talking about..."

"Open here, I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter..."

"Flirts and flutter, are you drinking again? Man, I gotta go. I'm going to the flea market."

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing..."

"I know one thing, you're making me wonder," I said as I got in my car. As I was pulling out of my driveway I glanced up at my rear view mirror and there was just enough daylight to see Merlethem standing there, watching me leave, alongside a very strange looking black object that I hadn't seen before.

What was that, I wondered to myself as I drove away...

It Ain't No Turkey, That's Fer Sure...Part I

2011-09-20T12:35:00.009-04:00

A month or so ago, I was walking past one of the windows in my house when something caught my eye. It was big, black and stood about two feet tall. Before I could get closer to the window for a better view, that THING took flight. Holy Crap! I ain't never been that close to a buzzard, raven, vulture, turkey or whatever it was before.

Since nature was calling I didn't have time to go outside and check it out right then and my short term memory seems to be fading as fast as my hairline so within a few minutes I had totally forgotten about my new visitor.

A few days later I was awakened by a pounding on my front door. "Hey! MA Fat Lady! Get out here! I wanna show you something."

Oh, no. It was my crazy elderly neighbor, Ms. Merlethem Shatz. I rolled out of bed and made it to the door, "What is it?"

"Look! Look there!" I followed her outstretched arm with my gaze and saw three (3) of those big, black birds standing in my backyard down by the old chicken house staring back at me and Merlethem. "What are they?"

"I don't know. They're kind of freaking me out. Maybe we should throw a rock at them."

"Rock, me arse. (She's British.) I'm gonna get my gun."

"I don't think you can fire a gun off this close to town," I said.

"BOLLOCKS! I thought this was a free country." At that outburst the large birds took flight nearly buzzing our heads as they flew off in the distance. My neighbor spun on her heels and talked to herself the whole way as she made her way back to her house. "Bollocks!" she yelled one last time as she went inside.

I had to agree with her. I didn't like the idea of these big birds hanging out at my house. I'm not superstitious (maybe, a little) or anything but isn't having three (3) large black Edgar Allen Poe type birds as neighbors an omen of some kind...

When You See Me Walk By

2011-09-15T10:39:00.002-04:00

I'm sort of a pack rat, I guess. I've mentioned before that I like to go to the flea market and go to yard sales where I pick up all sorts of crap.

One thing that I will normally not purchase used are clothes. I'm not sure why, maybe it stems from childhood when mom was a frequent visitor to neighborhood yard sales where she tried to find clothing for her ever growing kids at a cheap price.

I'm not proud or anything (maybe, a little) but the thought of wearing the neighbors' used clothing really gives me the Eeewwwwwws. None of my neighbors on Cherry Fork Road had the cooties or anything but I'm sure Missy really didn't want to see me walking around in one of her 'Alexander' shirts.

All of this brings me to present day. During a recent surge of physical activity (not sure where it came from) I decided to root around through some old boxes and see if I couldn't get rid of a few things. The first box that I opened contained a varied assortment of green and yellow colored shirts in different sizes with different monikers on the front and back. What I had found was the box that contained all of my old t-shirts and jerseys from when I was a child.

As I looked through the box and read the names on the backs of the shirts I was transported back to my childhood. At one point in time I had been called the following names: G.G., 1st grade; Strawberry, 5th grade basketball; G-whiz, Tom Downing called me that; MyMy, junior high; Mia, still called that; G, still called that; Palmer, never liked being called by my last name and lastly, Gianetta. I had shirts monogrammed with all of these names.

It's been 35 years, do I really need to keep these mementos?

After a few moments of thought and reflection, I decided it was time to let the old shirts go; they were in good shape so I thought I would donate them to the local thrift store.

A few weeks later I had stopped at the park by my house to go for a walk when I noticed a group of small children playing on the jungle gym wearing a familiar looking color. When I approached closer, I was surprised to see four little kids wearing four of the t-shirts that I had donated. I struck up a conversation with the mom and discovered she was just overjoyed to have found these shirts. She home-schooled her kids, ages 8-11, and when they went to the park she liked to dress them in similar colors.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time except one little boy who was upset and kept trying to read the back of his shirt. Intrigued by his actions, I approached him with this question, "What's wrong? Don't you like your new shirt?"

"It's okay, I guess. Except my name isn't Palmer, it's Alexander!"

May I Have Your Attention Please!

2011-09-12T12:48:00.003-04:00

Coming soon...

It's the Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman book! Coming soon...

...to a retail outlet near you!

A Silent Reminder

2011-09-11T00:04:00.000-04:00

In memory of those who lost their lives on that tragic day and for the family and friends that continue to grieve for you, I silence my laughter on this day and fill my heart and soul instead with the prayers and songs of those who remember.

You will never be forgotten and we will never forget.

God Bless America.

Wordless Wednesday...The Newest Cat

2011-09-07T00:04:00.001-04:00

The newest addition to the family. Notice the untouched scratching pad...his big brother taught him that.

September Storms...Is It A Diversion?

2011-09-05T18:48:00.003-04:00

I spent Labor Day waiting on the rains from Tropical Storm Lee to make their way up from the Gulf of Mexico. I also enjoyed the cooler weather. I know people get tired of me complaining about the heat and all but I've been sweating steadily for the last six months and I've been listening to that noisy air conditioner in the kitchen so much that my head seems to vibrate all the time.

I felt like cooking and had just settled down to a nice meal of beef and potatoes slow cooked in the crock pot when I got a text message from Mom. TORNADO WARNING was all it said. I didn't know if it was for her or me so I flipped on the television and sure enough, my county was under a tornado warning. Nice. I thought we'd already been through this for the year.

Within a few minutes I felt the rains get heavier, my lights flickered, and I was in the dark.

What's up with all of this wacky weather?

Hurricanes.

Typhoons.

Earthquakes in the Northeast of all places.

It makes me wonder if somebody isn't trying to create a diversion of some kind. After all, when is the last time you saw a report on the wars, the health care debate or the dismal housing sector.

And don't even get me started on the upcoming National election.

I only had an hour or so to ponder my diversion theory before the power came back on and the television started blasting out the latest damage reports. Luckily, my area was okay, but there was no mention of those topics that I mentioned above; gives you something to think about...

Changing Buses...A Cherry Fork Road Memory

2011-09-01T09:35:00.002-04:00

Growing up on Cherry Fork Road provided me with many memorable experiences. One memory that stands out today is when the school system decided to change the bus routes. This wasn't necessarily a good thing. I had ridden the same bus, Number 7, and had the same driver, Don Vogler, for at least eight years. I knew what I could get away with and also knew when to shut up and get back in my seat.

Bus Number 7 and I had been through several harrowing bus rides together. It was on that bus that Sister and I had clung together while Don rushed us home to see if Brother had burnt the house down. You can check out that story here.

It was also the bus that sent me flying in the air and off to the hospital which was a really scary and cool thing when you're in the sixth grade. (I haven't shared that remembrance yet.) I liked riding that bus; I knew everybody and everybody knew where to sit.

The bus that I was now assigned to was Number 23, driven by John Smiley, or Smiley as we called him. He was an older gentleman, kind of gruff and silent. He didn't seem to be too excited about getting a new route either.

The first day on my new bus I was nervous. I was in ninth grade, a lowly freshman and I now got on the bus midway through the route instead of being one of the first kids on like I was on Bus Number 7. That meant that most of the empty seats were taken and I had to sit with the kid that nobody wanted to sit with.

Not to be mean or anything but every bus had a kid like that: the nose-picker, the one that smelled like poop, the bed-wetter that hadn't bathed, the kid that always seemed to have shaved areas on their head because of frequent bouts of head lice, the fat kid, or worst of all, the empty seat where someone had just thrown up and now reeked of leftover puke and sawdust.

I knew it was going to be a long year if I had to ride in the puke seat every day...

Should Your Hairdresser Really Be Eating Mexican Food...Part IV

2011-08-29T09:17:00.009-04:00

...As I sat slouching in the barber chair totally inundated with the toxic, but not quite deadly combinations of refried beans and coal-tar petroleum hair dye I heard another volley fired off near the vicinity of where I had last seen P. Papappapow. Snap. "Ooooh!" Pedro exclaimed. "Perdone! Excuszi! My Gawd, P, what have you been eating?" he chuckled to himself.

I sat in stunned silence. What should I say? What could I say? Should I laugh it off? Should I ignore it? Pedro walked over with the coloring mixture, grabbed another bite of the burrito and began the task of wrapping my hair in foil and applying the goop. When in doubt, do nothing is a motto that had helped me in the past and that is what I did now; absolutely nothing. As Herr Shultz would say: I see NOTHING! I know NOTHING!

Soon my new hairdresser settled into a routine. While humming the Hispanic version of We Are The World to himself complete with dead-on impressions of the different voices...i.e...Bob Dylan, The Boss and Michael Jackson I soon found myself join in. "Oh, Chiquita, can you sing the girly voices for me? I didn't wear the tight pants I need to go high."

"Weeeeellllll, well, well, there's a choice we're making. We're saving our own lives." I sang in my best Cyndi Lauper voice while P chimed in with a silky falsetto that would have made Barry Gibb proud. PPPPPaaaappapp. Snap "Holy Crap, P! You're killing me with the gas!"

For a few moments as the green cloud spawned from P's flatulence floated around and fell down upon me I soon realized that what I had been smelling was the end result of my hairdresser's Mexican food binge. I mean, really, should a hairdresser really be eating Mexican food? No wonder there wasn't anyone here today.

Before too long, P had finished wrapping and applying the color mixture and announced, "we wait", set the timer and said, "I'll be right back" and walked outside. I began to wonder if I might have made him mad because he seemed a bit subdued. As I worked my way through an out of date hair style magazine I was surprised to see Pedro walk back into the salon with an overflowing bag of what turned out to be more Mexican burritos. "Wednesday is all-you-can-eat burrito day," he said to my surprised look. "Would you like one?"

Oh, really! Now, everything made sense. No wonder nobody came on Wednesdays. Who could stand the stench? For the next hour or so as P finished up my new hairdo (which turned out great) we continued to chat and munch on our burritos and it wasn't too long before I felt a rumbling in my gut. Poot!

"Awwww, Chiquita! I like you a lot. There is nothing wrong with the passing of the gas. It is a natural thing. I told you, P lets everything hang out. I have something special for you. Do you want to see my snake?"

"Uhhh!" And just like that, Pedro whipped off his shirt and showed me the coiled cobra that adorned the full-length of his back. Now, I'm not really into snakes or tattoos but I knew when something needed to be said to acknowledge such a fine piece of work. "Cool beans!" is all I could muster.

"Oh, Bebe, thank you! There is no better honor than a 'cool beans'. Most people scream and hide their eyes when I offer to show them my snake. For you, half price on today's treatment and I'll schedule you for another Wednesday in three months for a touch up and more burritos."

"Uh, thanks!" (Hey, you can't turn down 50% off, especially in this economy.)

Should Your Hairdresser Really Be Eating Mexican Food...Recap

2011-08-24T20:09:00.004-04:00

I've mentioned a few times in the past about my difficulties getting a decent haircut. I've lived in Georgia for 25 years and I've never had a regular stylist--one who knew what I wanted without me--a complete idiot when it comes to such things--having to explain it all. Yes, I DO want my hair stylist to read my mind.

Anyhow, I've become friendly with the nice lady that works the drive-thru where I do my banking and I noticed that she had a sassy new haircut. "Who does your hair?" I asked.

"Well, he's a new guy at that Hollywood place right beside the Mexican restaurant. He's from California or somewhere, I have no idea how he made it all the way to North Georgia but he sure has my hair lookin' good, don't you think?"

"Yep, sure does. That's why I asked. I can't seem to get a good haircut in this town."

"Me either. Did you ever get that Edward Scissorshand lady up at that quick-cutting place?"

"Holy Crap! She 'bout took my ear off one day. I stopped going there after they scalped me on my birthday. I had to go to Savannah looking like a fresh-faced recruit headed for eight weeks of boot camp. A different lady cut it that time and she even admitted she cut it too short. I was so mad I made myself cry; I hate it when I do that."

"You poor thing. Well, check him out, just Wed....nes...day." I didn't hear the first part of what she said because another car had pulled up behind me so I drove off with a jovial wave of my hand...

...A few days later after another unsuccessful attempt at fixing my hair I decided to go to the Hollywood place and check out the guy from California. I was worried about having an appointment or having to wait a long time; I guess that's why I don't have a regular stylist because I don't like to do those things.

I walked into the salon, the music was pumping and the place was decked out with faux head models wearing every flavor and size of wig, hair extension and several headpieces that involved various fruits and feathers. MA Fat Woman--you ain't in North Georgia no more, I thought to myself. As I stood with mouth agape staring at one particular headpiece that seemed to sway with the rhythm of the music a snappily-dressed Hispanic man munching on tortilla chips came out from the back. "Hola', you like hair sculptures?" he said with a sweep of his hand.

"Uh, sure. That one seems to be moving, though," I said.

"Oh, yes, si! That is new design; very nice. You want? Good price!"

"You mean somebody's gonna pay to have you put that on their head? How much?"

"For you, cheap price. Only 75. Today is good day, too. We not so busy on Wednesday," he continued in his broken accent.

"You mean for $75, you'll attach a basket of fruit to my head and somehow get it to dance. It sounds like fun, but I was just looking for a haircut."

"Hehehehheh, oooohh, Chiquita, you make me laugh, not $75! It's $7500!

"Oh. Not to hurt your feelings or nothin', but I don't think ya'll is going to sell many of those in this town."

"What is ya'll? There is no one else, only me. I am Chucko Pedro Santa Rosa Hose Munoz from California."

"That's some name..."

"Gracias, but people call me..."

"Wait! I bet they call you Pedro?"

"No, Chica. But you are close. They call me 'P'."

"Well, that's some coincidence. I'm called 'G' and I'm from Ohio."

"Ah, Ha! High in the middle and round on both ends. You like Bengals? Carson Palmer was one of my first customers."

"What's that smell?" I asked...

...As Pedro launched into a full-blown Telenovela about the time he spent in California and the one that got away (a former Bengals quarterback) he escorted me over to his salon chair and offered me a seat. "You are lucky today, Chiquita. P normally has a three month waiting list. I am always free on Wednesday, but nobody ever wants to come in on that day."

"What's that smell?" I asked again.

P ignored my question, threw the smock over me, then twirled me a round with a flourish. "Hmmmm, what are we going to do with you?" he said more to himself than me. "You sure you don't want hair sculpture. I can make you look like Snooki"

"I'm a little too tall to be confused with Snooki, don't you think?"

"Oh, is she short? I was talking about her boobies. Bebe, you got the big D's like she does. You got the nice body, why you hide it under big t-shirts? Don't be afraid to let it all hang out? You wanna see my snake?"

Pedro continued to tilt my head from side to side murmuring to himself in Spanish. I was still in shock from the snake suggestion and my nose kept twitching from some smell that I couldn't quite identify. "Do you smell something?" I asked.

This question was asked to no one because P had slipped away into the back room and after a few minutes came out with a burrito in one hand and a roll of aluminum foil in the other. "We color!" he said as he took a large bite of the burrito and placed it on the stand.

As P continued to get the coloring equipment set up, the smell of the food started drifting toward me. It smelled just like the horrible stench that I had been smelling since I entered the salon. Could the smell from the burritos be drifting all the way from the back?

BBBBBBrrrrppppp, rip, ripp, pow "Perdone," I heard from the back...

It's My Lucky Day...Year IV

2011-08-22T00:39:00.001-04:00

****It's the fourth time around for this post. I don't even remember what happened last year but I just know that today is my lucky day and the Pythagoreans believed that four was a perfect number. A perfect number for a perfect day!

****It's the third time around for this post. I just know that this will be the luckiest day of the year...Third time's a charm, right?

****This was what I posted last year on my lucky day. It didn't turn out as lucky as I would have wanted. So, I'm giving it another whirl. Maybe, better luck this year...year 2!

Today, August 22, is the luckiest day of the year for me. If something exciting is supposed to happen, it usually happens on this day. I can't remember the specific events (okay, maybe I can, but a girl has to have some secrets) but I do know that it was on this date. I do remember that I got my wisdom teeth pulled on this date in 1989. I know that wasn't lucky but I did get to eat mashed potatoes for every meal for a few days. And luckily, my favorite food is mashed potatoes.

I think I am going to try my lucky numbers on the lottery this evening. The problem is that I have to pick five numbers and I only have two: Eight for August and twenty-two for the twenty-second. That means that I will only get two out of five numbers and you don't win anything with just two correct. But, since it is my lucky day, I might get the other three numbers as well. I'm a winner and I didn't even know it. Now, what am I going to do with all that cash?

Should Your Hairdresser Really Be Eating Mexican Food?...Part III

2011-08-17T23:34:00.002-04:00

...As Pedro launched into a full-blown Telenovela about the time he spent in California and the one that got away (a former Bengals quarterback) he escorted me over to his salon chair and offered me a seat. "You are lucky today, Chiquita. P normally has a three month waiting list. I am always free on Wednesday, but nobody ever wants to come in on that day."

"What's that smell?" I asked again.

P ignored my question, threw the smock over me, then twirled me a round with a flourish. "Hmmmm, what are we going to do with you?" he said more to himself than me. "You sure you don't want hair sculpture. I can make you look like Snooki"

"I'm a little too tall to be confused with Snooki, don't you think?"

"Oh, is she short? I was talking about her boobies. Bebe, you got the big D's like she does. You got the nice body, why you hide it under big t-shirts? Don't be afraid to let it all hang out? You wanna see my snake?"

Pedro continued to tilt my head from side to side murmuring to himself in Spanish. I was still in shock from the snake suggestion and my nose kept twitching from some smell that I couldn't quite identify. "Do you smell something?" I asked.

This question was asked to no one because P had slipped away into the back room and after a few minutes came out with a burrito in one hand and a roll of aluminum foil in the other. "We color!" he said as he took a large bite of the burrito and placed it on the stand.

As P continued to get the coloring equipment set up, the smell of the food started drifting toward me. It smelled just like the horrible stench that I had been smelling since I entered the salon. Could the smell from the burritos be drifting all the way from the back?

BBBBBBrrrrppppp, rip, ripp, pow "Perdone," I heard from the back...

Should Your Hairdresser Really Be Eating Mexican Food...Part II

2011-08-15T10:07:00.001-04:00

...A few days later after another unsuccessful attempt at fixing my hair I decided to go to the Hollywood place and check out the guy from California. I was worried about having an appointment or having to wait a long time; I guess that's why I don't have a regular stylist because I don't like to do those things.

I walked into the salon, the music was pumping and the place was decked out with faux head models wearing every flavor and size of wig, hair extension and several headpieces that involved various fruits and feathers. MA Fat Woman--you ain't in North Georgia no more, I thought to myself. As I stood with mouth agape staring at one particular headpiece that seemed to sway with the rhythm of the music a snappily-dressed Hispanic man munching on tortilla chips came out from the back. "Hola', you like hair sculptures?" he said with a sweep of his hand.

"Uh, sure. That one seems to be moving, though," I said.

"Oh, yes, si! That is new design; very nice. You want? Good price!"

"You mean somebody's gonna pay to have you put that on their head? How much?"

"For you, cheap price. Only 75. Today is good day, too. We not so busy on Wednesday," he continued in his broken accent.

"You mean for $75, you'll attach a basket of fruit to my head and somehow get it to dance. It sounds like fun, but I was just looking for a haircut."

"Hehehehheh, oooohh, Chiquita, you make me laugh, not $75! It's $7500!

"Oh. Not to hurt your feelings or nothin', but I don't think ya'll is going to sell many of those in this town."

"What is ya'll? There is no one else, only me. I am Chucko Pedro Santa Rosa Hose Munoz from California."

"That's some name..."

"Gracias, but people call me..."

"Wait! I bet they call you Pedro?"

"No, Chica. But you are close. They call me 'P'."

"Well, that's some coincidence. I'm called 'G' and I'm from Ohio."

"Ah, Ha! High in the middle and round on both ends. You like Bengals? Carson Palmer was one of my first customers."

"What's that smell?" I asked...

Should Your Hairdresser Really Be Eating Mexican Food...Part I

2011-08-12T13:41:00.002-04:00

Friend's Birthday...Year III

2011-08-09T00:04:00.002-04:00

Birthday wishes go out to the Friend that I mention in my posts. Friend has experienced several of the MA Fat Woman's mishaps and can always be counted on for a good laugh, a no nonsense quote, or a story that will upstage mine every time.

Which reminds me of a story about Friend. Friend had a big time job and several underlings at her disposal for years. When birthdays and holidays floated around they always celebrated big. Everyone got cakes, presents, and usually taken out to dinner or the such. Well, Friend was really excited when it was time to celebrate her birthday. She had heard them planning and plotting the details of the party and was very excited.

It didn't turn out that way. It seems the person that had done the planning had an emergency and all of the plans fell through. On the day of the birthday, there was nothing.

No dinner!

No presents!

And no cake!

Somebody realized what had happened and ran to Walmart to get an emergency cake. The day was a Friday and the office was scarcely staffed. After about 3 or 4 people sang Happy Birthday, each grabbed a slice of cake and scattered back to their respective offices.

When it was time to go home that evening Friend went into the break room to get the cake to take home...

...it wasn't there!

"Where's the cake?" she asked.

"Oh, so-and-so took it with her. She said nobody had chipped in, so she was taking it home!"

I know! Stuff like that happens all the time to her.

Happy Birthday, Friend!

I hope you get a cake that is all yours...

The Latest Craze

2011-08-05T00:04:00.001-04:00

Have you heard about the latest craze called planking?

I wonder where people come up with these ideas? It seems the idea behind planking is to go to a public area and lay face down on the concrete, in the mud, on a bench or wherever with hands placed to the side and have your photo taken while you're kissing the dirt, mud, excrement, gum, rotting insects, dog crap and pigeon poop that might be strewn about.

I can't make this stuff up; check out the pics:

I'm trying to figure out if I need to become involved with this. It could be kind of fun. Can you imagine being in a public place enjoying your coffee, reading the paper or even partaking in a little PDOA (public display of affection) when you suddenly see a middle-age fat woman laid out flat on the floor?

I mean, what would you do? Would you offer to help? Would you laugh your ass off? Would you call 911? Would you take a picture or film it?

Or?

Or?

Would you shake your head in disbelief and think that lady has had one too many bon bons?

Well, whatever you do, be prepared, you never know when you might get planked. And at least you'll know what that crazy middle-aged fat lady is doing...

Wordless Wednessday...My New Mower

2011-08-03T23:05:00.001-04:00

I hope this one runs better than the last one...

Chigger Bites

2011-08-02T00:05:00.001-04:00

In a recent conversation with one of my younger cousins she posed this question to the masses on Facebook: How do you diminish the itching that comes along with chigger bites?

Now she's a few years younger than me and it was interesting to watch the responses from folks her age and younger come in from all over the country. Here are a few examples:

1. Go to the Urgent Care Clinic and get a special lotion from the doctor.

2. Put ice on it.

3. Run to Walmart and ask the Pharmacist.

And so forth and so on.

What is even more interesting is the responses that she got from her family members my age and up. We all said the same thing: Put fingernail polish on it.

In the summertime you could always tell the kids that spent their days, evenings and nights in a kind of blissful unawareness: We all had many multi-colored splotches all over our body; the stranger the colors, the better.

Mom always said the polish suffocates the chigger that is trapped under the skin. I don't know if that is true or not and I was going to Google it and see what came up but even the mention of that bug made my skin crawl and I started to scratch.

Just a word of advice: I don't think the nail polish works for skeeter bites.

Another word of advice: Stop scratching or you'll leave a scar...just sayin'!

Wham, Bam And Thank You, Ma'am

2011-07-28T09:42:00.006-04:00

Mom and I had to go to Atlanta the other day to get a minor medical procedure taken care of and we found ourselves back at the same hospital where Dad was back at the turn of the Millennium.

Not much has changed in the ten years since we spent almost every waking hour at the hospital, going to the hospital or coming home from the hospital: We still make a wrong turn and end up going into the wrong parking garage. The traffic is absolutely terrible. The food is even worse and the little bistro that we used to sneak away to for a bit of quiet time folded up during the recession.

Something else that hasn't changed is the quality of the care received there: if you're sick and need to go into the hospital then that is the place to be; the medical staff rocks!

Anyhow, once Mom got called into the back I decided to go look for a pop machine; I was told that I had at least 30 minutes before I needed to be back in the waiting room. I walked back in the waiting room with Diet Coke in hand and the older lady sitting there with her even older mother looked straight at me and gave me the most quizzical look. I was surprised and a bit taken back but I asked, "Did you want me to get you a Coke too? I can run right back and get you one?"

"Oh, no!" they said in unison. "We've got water."

I had just settled back into my chair when Mom walked back into the room. Not from the back of the office but from the hall that I had just come from. "Where ya been?" she asked.

I don't know how long I was gone but it was nowhere close to 30 minutes. "How long have you been waiting? I just walked next door and now I know why these ladies were looking at me funny: we were chasing each other!"

"Oh, I don't know. I got the main Doc and he knows what he's doing. He said, 'Wham, and a bam and a aren't you glad you came, otherwise, you wouldn't get to see me.'"

"He really said that?"

"Yep! That wham, bam stuff I'm not sure of; I think he's French or something. You know what they say about those French guys...HeHe."

On A First Name Basis

2011-07-25T00:01:00.002-04:00

Since I've joined the Social Media Revolution and started using sites like Twitter and Facebook I have reconnected with a lot of people from my past such as childhood friends, past coworkers and even a few of my teachers.

At first, I thought it was a bit odd receiving likes and comments from folks that used to give me a grade for conduct on a daily basis. I mean I was a pretty good student and such but I still felt self-conscious about posting commentary about "swamp ass" and "hemorrhoids."

Recently, I wished one of my former teachers a happy birthday. My teacher said you can drop the mister because everyone just calls me Ron. Well, I was a bit reluctant to do this but in further email exchanges I dropped the mister and called him Ron.

A few weeks later I was telling Mom what had happened and she stopped what she was doing, looked at me and said in a serious tone, "That is something that you don't do. Your teachers taught you very well and you still need to show them respect. Ron will always be Mr. Smart to you and don't you forget it."

Well, when L.M. Palmer speaks, I listen. So, listed below are my former teachers and what they learned me...

Mrs. Jones - (Art) I still have my hand print from kindergarten and my silhouette portrait from second grade.

Mr. Smart - (Science & Basketball Coach) Don't be afraid to take the shot.

Mr. Whitford - (Band) He switched me from trumpet to baritone and it took me all the way to Europe.

Mr. Breeze - (History) Tidbits of useless information did indeed pay off in later life; not too many people can beat me at Trivial Pursuit.

Mrs. Gray - (Math) It's been 25 years but I can still do Algebra. Maybe not take the equation all the way down to X=O, but pretty darn close.

Mrs. Smith - (English) The Outsiders is still one of my favorite stories.

So I say thank you to all of you; you taught me very well!

Famous Quotes That Ring True Today

2011-07-22T00:07:00.001-04:00

On describing the current status of Congress and the President as they try to fix yet another looming crisis...i.e...the National Debt crisis: "Mama always said stupid is as stupid does." Forrest Gump

On describing yet another Republican female presidential hopefuls attempt at discussing an event from America's past: "Excuse me a minute, what are you babbling about?" The Breakfast Club

On describing the unbelievable acquittal of Casey Anthony by a jury of her peers: "...a date that will live in infamy." President Roosevelt

On describing the scandal of Rupert Murdoch and his evil media empire: "Hey bud, what's your problem?" Fast Times at Ridgemont High

On describing the current lockouts in the NFL and the NBA: "Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit." Wall Street

On describing the current unemployment situation that continues to drag on and on: "Show me the money!" Jerry Maguire

On describing the extramarital affairs that are plaguing America: "Luke, I am your father." Star Wars

On describing the current dearth of quality daytime television programs since Oprah went off the air. "I led you here sir, for I am Spartacus." Spartacus

On describing the continued coverage of an old, old news story by the Nancy Grace show: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Gone With the Wind

On describing the totally gut-wrenching loss suffered by the National Women's Soccer Team in the World Cup: "I'll be back..." Terminator

What Will They Think Of Next?

2011-07-21T00:04:00.000-04:00

Maybe, it's just me but I have a problem with a product I saw advertised on television the other day.

Can you read what the label says? It says: Washing machine cleaner.

Why. In. The. World. Do. We. Need. To. Wash. Our. Washer?

If anyone knows the answer to that question, please let me know!

Things I have Learned Living In The South

2011-07-20T00:04:00.003-04:00

****This was forwarded to me in an email; too funny not to share****

Ya don't start the car; ya crank it.

A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.

There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 of them live in the South.

There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 of them live in the South, plus a couple no one's seen before.

If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite cha.

Onced and Twiced are words.

It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy!

Jawl-P? means Did y'all go to the bathroom?

People actually grow, eat and like okra.

Fixinto is one word. It means I'm fixing to do that.

There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there is supper.

Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar. It is referred to as the Wine of the South.

Backwards and forwards means I know everything about you.

The word jeet is actually a phrase meaning 'Did you eat?'

You don't have to wear a watch, because it doesn't matter what time it is, you work until you're done or it's too dark to see.

You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH em.

Ya'll is singular; All ya'll is plural.

You measure distance in minutes.

You switch from heat to A/C in the same day.

All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect, or animal.

You know what a DAWG is.

You carry jumper cables in your car - for your OWN car.

You only own five spices: salt, pepper, mustard, Tabasco and ketchup.

The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local high school sports and motor sports, and gossip.

You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.

You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit a bit warm.

You know what a hissy fit is.

Going to Wal-Mart is a favorite pastime known as goin Wal-Martin' or off to Wally World.

You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good beef stew or chili weather.

Fried catfish is the other white meat.

We don't need no dang Driver's Ed. If our mama says we can drive, we can drive!!!

You understand these jokes and forward them to your Southern friends and those who just wish they were from the SOUTH.

Paging, Georgia Power. Come In Georgia Power...

2011-07-18T00:04:00.000-04:00

Can you think of a better way to spend a 100° afternoon in the Deep South than sitting in the cool, refreshing breeze that is emanating from one of your window air conditioners that makes the whole house vibrate when it is running? I couldn't either until somebody told the transformer down the road to heat up and explode.

Ummm, paging, Georgia Power. Come in, Georgia Power.

I'm not one to complain or anything but ever since Georgia Power raised the rates nearly 20% back in January my power has flickered or gone off almost every week. I'm sure it is just coincidental and I know we had a major ice storm and major thunderstorms for several months in a row but losing power on a day like today is just ridiculous.

It's gotten so bad that I have now memorized the customer service number to report outages. I don't live in a third world country or out in the West where rolling blackouts are a common occurrence; I'm used to electric whenever and wherever I want it.

I know, I'm a spoiled American. But to every middle-aged fat woman out there that is just one hot flash away from suffering total heat exhaustion, I need my power back on and I mean Now!

I'm sure ya'll will agree with me on that one...

Whatcha' Mean, You Don't Like Collard Greens?

2011-07-13T00:04:00.003-04:00

During my recent overnight business trip, I was excited to get to stay in a really nice hotel that offered room service. It was late by the time I finished up my tasks for the day that I didn't really want to venture out anywhere so I ordered room service.

The book that was in my room that told the specifics about the hotel and listed the room service menu seemed to be missing a page or two. Somewhere I had read that they offered breakfast as an option but couldn't find any breakfast items listed.

I called the front desk and was transferred to a nice lady that worked in the restaurant. The following is our conversation:

Me: I'd like to order room service...

Lady: Okay, what'll ya have? What'll ya have?

Me: I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?

Lady: Yes, Ma'am, I said, what'll ya have, what'll ya have?

Me: I'm not sure. Is this room service, or have I called the Varsity?

Lady: Oh, you must live around here, don'tcha? I like to say that to the traveling folks. Makes 'em think they is at the Varsity, though. Since you is from around here, I'll rephrase my question and ask what would you like to have for dinner?

Me: I'm not sure. My hotel book only lists options for lunch and late-night dining. It does list a Filet Mignon for $52, but I don't think I'll order that. You got any seafood plates?

Lady: Yep, we sure do. We got a fried shrimp, french fries and cole slaw plate for $16, and it's good too.

Me: Okay, I'll get that. (It was good.)

I had called the front desk in the morning and mentioned that my hotel book was missing a few pages, so when I got back into the room the next night I was hoping to see what other options might be available. They hadn't provided me with the missing menu so I had to call again without knowing what I wanted.

Lady: Room service. What'll ya have, what'll ya have?

Me: I'd like to order room service, please.

Lady: Sure thing, what'll ya have, what'll ya have?

Me: I'm not sure. I don't have a complete menu in my room...

Lady: Lordy, is this the same lady from last night?

Me: Yep, sure is.

Lady: I told them room cleaners to put you a new book in there, but I guess they didn't. It figures. Well, what'll ya have then, what'll ya in the mood for?

Me: You got any fried chicken?

Lady: Fried chicken? Honey, this ain't the Big Chicken, but we do have a three-piece platter with smashed taters and a vegetable.

Me: Sounds goods. What's the vegetable?

Lady: Why, collard greens, of course. That's the only thing that goes good with chicken.

Me: Hmmm, I don't really like collard greens, you got anything else?

Lady: Harump! Whacha' mean, you don't like collard greens? Are ya crazy or somethin'? I thought you said you was from around here?

Me: I live up in the mountains, but I'm originally from Ohio.

Lady: Oh, I see. You from north of the sweet tea line, (that's my favorite line to describe someone from the north) ain't ya? Well, we ain't got any other vegetables, so I'll send you a double order of taters, okay?

It worked for me since mashed potatoes are my favorite food.

The next day during our lunch break we were standing in line at the small cafeteria in the building where our training was taking place. Listed on the daily lunch special were fried chicken, mashed potatoes and a vegetable for only $5.99. "What's the vegetable?" I asked.

You know I already knew the answer to that before the lady answered in a familiar voice. "What'll ya have, what'll ya have? It's my first day on the job here and the vegetable of the day is collard greens. Could you believe someone ordered the fried chicken at the hotel last night and said they didn't like collard greens?"....

My Niece's Birthday

2011-07-12T13:40:00.002-04:00

Happy Birthday to my niece who turns 17 today!

I hope you have a good day!

Top Ten Things To Do During The Latest Heat Wave

2011-07-11T10:34:00.000-04:00

Here's another top ten list for your enjoyment:

What are the top ten things to do during the second heat wave of the season?

10. Complain to all your friends on Facebook about how hot it is?

9. Step outside to get a closer look at the thermometer to be sure it actually says 102 degrees at 11:00 AM---in the shade.

8. Confirm that it actually is 102 degrees in the shade with 75% humidity and begin the day with another nasty case of swamp ass. (Sweating of the loins.) (Thanks, Marilynn!)

7. Stay indoors! (Nope, can't do that. It's hotter inside than it is outside.)

6. Plan a road trip to audition for a television game show. (I'll let you know how that turns out.)

5. Change clothes for the 5th time because it's too hot to do anything inside either; those chores will just have to wait.

4. Stare at window air conditioning units and wonder just how high the power bill is going to be this summer.

3. Sit and sweat as you look at the window air conditioning units that are now turned off since the power bill was over $300.

2. Have some ice cream while typing out a top ten list about things to do during the first heat wave of the season.

1. Move to your mother's house for a few days; she has central air!

Stay cool!

More Neck Pimples

2011-07-08T12:09:00.000-04:00

****In case you missed it the first time around.****

My next door elderly neighbor, Ms. Merlethem Shatz, cornered me up at the mailbox the other day and decided to tell me how she had been feeling recently. I normally try to avoid these conversations with her because whatever she tells me usually makes my skin crawl.

This time was no exception. Neck pimples. That's what was ailing her this week; she had a big icky pimple on the back of her neck and she couldn't get it to pop. It was making her whole head hurt like she had a migraine or something. She asked me if I wanted to have a go at it (she's British) and I started to look at it before I caught myself. Sometimes, your curiosity can get the better of you and Merlethem realized that she had piqued my interest and started in on one of her stories. She's kind of like Rose from the Golden Girls and her stories about life back in St Olaf.

"Back when I was a girl I had the worst time with pimples...or I think you call them zits now...blah, blah, blah" Goodness! I had to get out of there, and fast.

"You don't have any Preparation H do you?" she asked.

"What for?" I replied.

"Well, I had a pimple on my bum a few years back and all I had was some Preparation H and I put it on the bump and it went right away."

"No, luckily I haven't had a need for Preparation H. I don't have any hemorrhoids and I don't have pimples on my butt. I think they sell it at the drug store."

"Okay, I better get down there before they close. Damn, my head hurts. You got any Goody Powders?"

"No!"

"What about Tylenol?"

"No!"

"Bayer?"
"Excedrin?"
"Aleve?"
"I know you got some Doan's pills for your back that is always out when I ask you to carry something for me. Can I have one of them?"

At that point she had followed me down my driveway and onto the new porch. "Merlethem, this is my house," I said. "Yours is over there."

"How'd I get here?" she asked. "I told you that neck pimple was bothering me. I can't even find my own house. Are you sure you don't want to have a go at this thing?"

Rrrrrrriiiinnnggggg. "Gotta go, someone is calling," I said. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Felicia from Proactive..."

I'm A Late Bloomer

2011-07-06T00:04:00.001-04:00

Well, whoopty do, hot damn and cool beans are the best expressions that I could come up with to describe how I'm feeling right now.

Why am I so excited? I get to go on a business trip. I've never been on an overnight company paid trip before.

Either I've been in the wrong professions or I'm a very late bloomer.

Have I mentioned that I got a new job?

For the next few weeks, posting will be a bit sporadic, so I'm gonna reissue some of my favorites from the past.

I also want you to know that I have a very BIG announcement coming up soon; something that I have been working really hard on.

Until then, stay cool!

Parades, Again

2011-07-05T00:30:00.000-04:00

I missed the Fourth of July parade again this year, but just barely. I wanted to go, but I have this thing about parades. They scare me a little and usually make me cry. I was in the marching band in high school so I got to march in several parades a year. I don't think they bothered me then because I was in the parade and didn't have to watch. From the tenth grade on I marched in the very front row on the left-hand side. I played a large brass instrument and it was a lot of fun. Maybe, it was from watching all of those Thanksgiving parades on TV that made me nervous around parades. All of those large inflated creatures that if there was just one wrong misstep could send their handlers floating off somewhere over the rainbow.

As I drove into town yesterday, tractor pulled floats with balloons flapping in the breeze, pickup trucks with 'Vote-for-so-and-so' and gleaming red firetrucks passed me coming the other way. When I reached the center of town it looked like someone had set a bomb off(wonder if they had a permit?). Trash everywhere. Families were still milling around town clinging to their children's hands to keep them from running into the street to salvage any leftover thrown candy. I saw one child dart out into traffic, hit a pile of manure(EEWWW) left by a horse in the parade, pick up a piece of candy and slide across the road into the waiting arms of a very shocked parent. One parade judge was receiving medical attention because one of the parade participants had thrown an exceptionally large piece of hard candy at him and boinked him on the head.(I think they got last place) I heard a little girl sobbing inconsolably because she hadn't gotten any of the candy thrown in her direction.(See a pattern here?)

As I was waiting to make a left hand turn in the center of town, I was startled when I heard something beside me go bleep, bleep. I looked at all of my mirrors and couldn't see a thing. Bleep, Bleep, BBBLLLLEEEEEEPP!! All of a sudden, six very large clowns(I'm scared of clowns too) jumped up out of the smallest motorized vehicle that I have ever seen and yelled, "Chinese Fire Drill". The light turned green but I stayed put. Clowns were running beside me, around me, one even tried to open my door(good thing I had it locked) all jumping up and waving, one tripped over his feet, one pulled a flower from his sleeve, one honked his nose at me and one handed me a balloon in the shape of a wiener dog. As the light turned back to red, they hopped back into that car, made a right turn and sped off. I had to wait for the light to turn green again and I was shocked to hear a bleep, bleep once again. I looked up and saw that little car heading my way again and thought, "I don't think so." I didn't care what color the light was, I slammed that Mustang down into first gear, hit that pile of manure, hit the emergency brake, squalled the tires, and laid down a piece of rubber that would've made Old Number 3 right proud. I left them clowns choking and gasping in my dust.

I had to stop and get gas before I left town and was alittle uneasy when a guy in a clown suit pulled up at the next pump. He smiled at me and I just kind of looked away. I heard his cell phone ring and he began to talk to someone. I had finished pumping my gas and looked backed over at the clown.(He wasn't there) As I did so, I heard a 'honk', I jumped out of my skin, turned back around and there stood the clown. "My friends just called and said you really made their day with that manuever back at the light", he said. "They want to know if you want to go to the next town and be in the parade with them?"(Sign me up!)

Happy Fourth Of July

2011-07-04T00:25:00.001-04:00

Orignally published July '08

The scene--Any small town in a state that doesn't allow fireworks, namely Georgia.

A guy walks into his local courthouse and asks where he can get a permit. The guard sends him down to the permit office. There is a really long line and only one window open. He admits to himself that this permit thing must be a pretty good idea, 'cause everyone here seems to be getting one. After all, on July 4th, he always hears fireworks going off all over town, so, they must have a permit, right?

The man finally reaches the counter after one lunch break, and two smoke breaks and asks the lady about applying for a permit. She pulls out the forms and said that the fee was going to be $500.00. He scratches his head and thought that that sounded like a lot of money. "Ma'am, why does it cost so much to get a permit to let off fireworks," he asked?

"Let off fireworks," she said. "Don't you know that is illegal in this state?"

The man scratched his head once again and then asked, "What are all of these people here for?"

"Sir, this is the tag office," she said.

The man, quite confused by this time, looks up and asks, "Where does the city get its permit to let off fireworks for the community each year?"

The lady, quite at a loss for words looks up and says, "Wait right here, I'm gonna go get my supervisor."

Enjoy your 4th of July wherever you are and remember this: Let the professionals shoot off the fireworks, because they have a permit. Just don't ask to see it.

More Summertime Conversations

2011-07-01T00:04:00.000-04:00

I had just returned from my mini vacation and was enjoying the early summer heat (not) when Mom called.

MAFW: Hello?

Mom: Whatcha' doin'?

MAFW: Whew! I'm sweating like a whore in church.

Mom: Holy Crap! You swear worse than your dad did; you know that's not very ladylike and I taught you better than that.

MAFW: Sometimes you can't use the nice words when a bad one fits so perfectly.

Mom: What? Are you making up stuff again? It sure is hot, ain't it. I bet you were glad to be back in your own home playing musical air conditioners, aren't ya? Are you having another hot flash? *snort

MAFW: Mom?

Mom: What?

MAFW: What did you want?

Mom: I don't know. You called me blubbering about sweating in church or something.

MAFW: I'm not a 'ho.

Mom: Lord, you better not be. I'd pull you up by the hair on your head...

MAFW: MOM!

Mom: Listen here, MYMY...don't you get smart with me...if you're so hot why don't you go stick your head in the freezer like you did when you was a kid. I gotta go, Jeopardy is on. Click!

Wordless Wednesday...I'm Way Cooler Than Zach Whatshisname

2011-06-29T00:04:00.000-04:00

....Oprah too!

Sweet Dreams?...Maybe Not!

2011-06-26T00:04:00.005-04:00

In a recent conversation with Friend, we got on the subject of strange and unusual dreams. The problem with having an unusual dream is remembering that you actually have had an unusual dream. (I forget my dreams usually.)

I don't have the same dreams that I had when I was a child. Luckily, I wasn't one of those kids that had night terrors or dreams of the Boogie Man trying to grab me from underneath the bed. I wasn't scared of the dark and I was able to sleep peacefully without the aid of a nightlight. When I went to bed, I usually slept like a rock.

However, there is one occasion that I do remember from my childhood of having an unusual dream; it wasn't so much that it was strange it was just scary. There was a mini-series on television called How The West Was Won when I was growing up that we watched every time it was on. From the title you can probably guess what it was about: the settling of the American Frontier.

In my mind as I remember it, there were two different characters and scenes involving snakes. Have I mentioned before that I'm not very fond of snakes? The first scene involved a minister, preacher or reverend that used snakes in his worship service as a way to prove his faith to his congregation. The second scene involved settlers sleeping on the ground and because of the coolness of the night waking up with snakes in their bedroll. Now, I'm not sure about you, but this is a situation that I never want to in--whether sleeping or in real life!

My dream went something like this: I awoke in my little twin bed and was too petrified to move; my bed was filled with snakes. I was dreaming that Mom had tucked me in so well the night before that I couldn't pull the sheets from the side of the bed and I was stuck with the snakes--in bed with me. Wowza! I still get the heebie jeebies just thinking about it today. I remember that it took me several moments to awaken and convince myself that, indeed, no snakes were in the bed with me.

Looking back that must have really been some dream for me to remember it 35 years later and it taught me something that I adhere to still today: I don't watch anything that has a snake in it!

Are Ruffles Making A Comeback?

2011-06-22T00:04:00.000-04:00

I was watching The View this morning and was completely mesmerized by the busyness that surrounded co host Elizabeth Hasselbeck's face. It looked liked something was trying to strangle her or maybe a torn ruffle off of a 1980s tablecloth.

Woof!

I need a brain!

Bow Wow!

I'm not much of a fashion goddess or anything but I know better than to wear something that is suitable only for washing the dog or stuffing a scarecrow on national television. Can someone recommend a stylist or something?

Now, I'm not being mean just to be mean. I did say, Well, bless her heart, as we say in the South before poking fun at someone and I do remember being the proud owner of a blouse like the ones shown below.

The year was 1984 or something like that, but I owned several ruffled shirts and I'm sure Mom has a picture somewhere.

So that makes it about 25 years since ruffles were the "it" thing; I guess that's long enough ago for them to come back in style. I better get myself down to the new Walmart and see if they have any in stock.

Or better still, I'll check Mom's closet; I'm sure she still has a whole collection of ruffled attire straight out of 1982.

Father's Day Without A Father

2011-06-19T22:02:00.002-04:00

Father's Day isn't quite as enjoyable as it used to be since we lost Dad; in fact, it's down right depressing. But since I was visiting Sister, up north of the Sweet Tea line, we decided we would have our own celebration; something that Dad would have enjoyed tremendously: Good food and a Western.

We had slept late after our fun and exciting evening at the beauty salon the night before (story to come) and decided we would cook something from scratch.

MAFW: You want biscuits and gravy?

Sister: Yessss.

MAFW: I know, me too! They were his favorite.

Sister: You gonna fry taters?

MAFW: Yessss. I'm not putting any onions in them either.

Sister: When are you going to outgrow this whole onion thing.....

MAFW: I'm NOT cooking them with onions. I'm not peeling them and I'm not touching them.

Sister: You just ate a whole bag of Herr's Sour Cream & ONION chips...

MAFW: Don't matter; I'm still not messing up my fried taters with your nasty onions.

Sister: Okay. You can cook the onions separately and then I'll add them to my potatoes.

MAFW: I don't even want to smell them...

Sister: Gee whiz, you're killing me. Just cook the blasted onions. Dad liked onions in his fried potatoes, you know.

MAFA: Oh, all right!

After a breakfast of fried potatoes, (onions for Sister) biscuits and gravy and scrambled eggs, it was time to settle in to watch the new version of the movie True Grit starring Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon. I was pleasantly surprised at how good the movie was; most remakes are not very good. What I liked about the Western was that it wasn't overdone. Many of today's movies have such unbelievable special effects that the story sometimes gets lost; this didn't happen in True Grit.

Once the movie was over, Sister and I both agreed that we had enjoyed a really good Father's Day; one that Dad would have appreciated. After an hour or so reminenscing about the old days we looked at each other and both tried to stifle a yawn as the realization hit us at the same time: The only thing missing from this Father's Day (besides Dad) was a nap!

After all, that's what he would have done...

WYYZ In Cincinnati

2011-06-16T11:26:00.005-04:00

No, there's no Howard Hessman or Loni Anderson floating around, just me, living it up big in the 'Nati as we used to call it back in the day.

I was 20 when I left Ohio and moved south. I had only had my license for a few years and had only ventured out into parts of the city that had a softball field or shopping mall. I never really knew the difference from Blue Ash (where everyone worked) or Over-the-Rhine (which everyone avoided) and I knew I was always close to good shopping when I saw the "Florence Ya'll" (I thought it was a typo and read Florence Mall) sign.

I still want to listen to Q102 which in my childhood was the rockin' station. Nowadays, or so I'm told, it's not what people really listen to.

Since I've been here, I've made my sister drive. You have to get on I-75 to get anywhere and the road still has parts that have been under construction since I left in 1987--and I thought Atlanta was bad. There is one section that is down to two lanes and is filled with truckers and has concrete barriers on both sides. Throw in a rain storm and four singing (screaming) kids and you got one Middle-Aged Fat Woman with a butt puckered so tight you'd have thought I'd been eating cheese for a week.

In the next few days, I'm meeting up with some old friends from my childhood. Luckily for me, we're friends on Facebook so they already know that I have become a MAFW and can get past that first awkward moment of "What the hell happened to you?". Of course, I on the other hand do not have that luxury and will try not to say that if I see anything shocking.

I've had my Cincinnati style chili, got heart-burn as expected and enjoyed the frickin chicken wings at Frickers. I'll be off to Cherry Fork Road in a few days to pay my respect to my ancestors, have a pizza burger and then set the GPS for home.

As time has passed and the longer I'm gone from my childhood home, the less time I spend there. I don't really know who is married to whom and where everybody now lives. And that's okay because I have a new home now that is almost perfect; if only I had a Cincinnati style restaurant next door....

Zero, Five Or Whatever...What Do You Stop On?

2011-06-14T00:04:00.001-04:00

I was pumping gas the other day and had left the nozzle on automatic. After it had clicked off I began my usual battle with the pump dispenser to get the dollar amount just perfect.

Here are my preferred choices:

1. I like the amount to be a nice round number. When filling up the Mustang these days, that amount is $50.00.

2. I like the total to end in a zero.

3. I can handle it if it stops on a five.

When gas is as high as it is, it is nearly impossible to get the pump to stop on a zero or five. It always goes past to 01 or 06 and I end up with $47.46 or $48.01. Before you know it, I've put an additional two or three bucks in the car because I can't get the blasted thing to stop.

My mom thinks it's hysterical when she sees me doing this. Why don't you just let it stop wherever, she says, or better yet, pay with cash and they do the stopping for you!

So, is it just me? Zero, five or whatever, what do you stop on?

Not An Option For Me

2011-06-10T00:04:00.003-04:00

Recently, I visited with an old friend to celebrate her child's first birthday. We had only seen one another a few times over the past couple of years and it's amazing the changes that can occur in such a relatively short amount of time.

Over time, the friendship has gone from daily interaction, to infrequent phone calls, to a hurried text message every few months. This is nothing unusual about what can happen over the lifetime of a friendship. However, what is shocking are the physical changes that you hear about but until you see it with your own eyes, it's difficult to comprehend.

What I am referring to is weight. My friend went one way and I went the other.

I've mentioned before that I quit smoking almost five years ago and packed on the pounds. (That's how I became the MAFW.) I have been trying (halfheartedly) to lose the weight almost since day one. I usually make it to about 17 pounds until something happens: I lose interest; I get bored; I go on vacation; a major holiday or whatever. And before you know it, I have gained it all back.

Over the last month, I have changed doctors and had my current insulin regimen turned upside down: three times. I've been threatened with blood pressure medicine and other dire predictions if I don't lose weight. All the same things I was told when I needed to quit smoking. I did that and then I got fat, for whatever reason.

In my mind's eye, until recently, I didn't really see the person staring back at me in the mirror; I still saw my before stop smoking self grinning back. One day, I was walking behind a large person and saw our reflections mirrored through the front window of a store and was very surprised: In my mind, I had thought to myself that I'm glad I wasn't that big. On seeing the reflection, however, apparently I was.

This all brings me back to my friend. My friend had decided to combat a recent weight gain and an early diagnosis of diabetes by having weight loss surgery. This is something I had considered as well. I had only seen her once since the surgery and that was when she was pregnant. I was totally shocked at how thin she now was (size 6) and commented that she looked almost frail. What surprised me even more was her response: When she looked in the mirror, instead of the person she now was, she still saw the large, overweight version.

Holy crap!

To go through all that and still see your old self; that's not acceptable at all and definitely not an option for me.

My Take On Weiner-Gate

2011-06-08T14:12:00.003-04:00

And now a word from the MA Fat Woman on the latest misstep involving man's best friend: Weiner-dog!

I don't care.......