You give me a reason to live

I spent the day trying out my medical benefits. I’m pleased to report they work. In fact, everyone should have it this good. No really. I mean it.

First there was the flu shot. I didn’t cry so I got a Winnie the Pooh Band Aid. Then the nice nurse came in and gave me a paper gown and a sheet and asked me if I knew what to do with them. I looked up from the novel I’m reading and nodded but refrained from something like I’ve been in more stirrups than John Wayne. She’s a new nurse. Best she gets me in small doses.

I hummed You Can Leave Your Hat On and stripped down to my socks.The perennial question – leave them on or not? The room was chilly, but I’d gone to the trouble of painting my toenails to match my fingernails. Some decisions are so difficult.

I hummed You Can Leave Your Socks On while I tried to tug the paper gown into some semblance of a garment that didn’t show more skin than was medically necessary. I sat on the table and went back to reading the Agatha Christie novel I’m desperate to finish because I cannot figure out who did it.

I didn’t get very far because the paper gown’s shoulders are huge. I looked like a Shogun Warrior. I was in the middle of taking a photo of myself  when cute Doctor Jayson knocked on the door. I tossed my phone into my purse and tried to act cool.

We chatted, as per usual, before getting down to business. Right before feeling me up, he noted how pretty my fingernails looked. Damn it. I’d kept my socks on so he’d miss the joy of seeing my sexy toes.

I told him about being published (he’s been very encouraging of my writing endeavors over the years) and, unlike my mother who responded to news of the publication responded with “well, (pause) how’s the weather down there, he congratulated me. He asked if I was still working on my novel and I groused that it’s moldering on a hard drive. As it should be. It’s crap.

Tell me again what it’s about?

I did and that led to our discussion of WWII while he did what he had to do and I stared at the ceiling. I’ve had some interesting interactions in my time, but that is the first time I’ve talked of snipers and Omaha Beach while someone is looking at my cervix.

Once that bit of fun was over, I was shot full of tetanus and sent on my way with a prescription for happy pills and an appetite suppressant. After a stop in to submit to the phlebotomists aka non-sparkly vampires, I strolled across the hall where I was instructed to strip to the waist, rid myself of any trace of deodorant and powder and don a cape.

From Shogun Warrior to braless super hero. Who cared if I ever finished reading that Poirot?

I waited in a little room with another caped crusader and fiddled with my phone. It’s a little cold in here isn’t it? she had a lovely southern drawl. Her name was called and I was alone again with Hercule. A few pages later, I was invited into the room housing the breast press. The very patient technician helped me to pose, contorting myself so that my knockers could be mashed with the utmost efficiency.

Okay, hold your breath……don’t move.

I returned home with my nipple shields still in place. You never know when those things might come in handy.

Another year, another chance to prevent health problems. And if I have any sense at all, I’ll be aware that I’m lucky to have the medical insurance coverage to do this. Not everyone is so fortunate.

You give me a reason to live

I spent the day trying out my medical benefits. I’m pleased to report they work. In fact, everyone should have it this good. No really. I mean it.

First there was the flu shot. Then the nice nurse came in and gave me a paper gown and a sheet and asked me if I knew what to do with them. I looked up from the novel I’m reading and nodded but refrained from something like I’ve been in more stirrups than John Wayne. She’s a new nurse. Best she gets me in small doses.

I hummed You Can Leave Your Hat On and stripped down to my socks.The perennial question – leave them on or not? The room was chilly, but I’d gone to the trouble of painting my toenails to match my fingernails. Some decisions are so difficult.

I hummed You Can Leave Your Socks On while I tried to tug the paper gown into some semblance of a garment that didn’t show more skin than was medically necessary. I sat on the table and went back to reading the Agatha Christie novel I’m desperate to finish because I cannot figure out who did it.

I didn’t get very far because I become fascinated with the size of the paper gown’s shoulders. I looked like a Shogun Warrior. I was in the middle of taking a photo of myself  when cute Doctor Jayson knocked on the door. I tossed my phone into my purse and tried to act cool.

We chatted, as per usual, before getting down to business. Right before feeling me up, he noted how pretty my fingernails looked. Damn it. I’d kept my socks on so he’d miss the joy of seeing my sexy toes.

I told him about being published (he’s been very encouraging of my writing endeavors over the years) and, unlike my mother who responded to news of the publication with “well, (pause) how’s the weather down there, he congratulated me. He asked if I was still working on my novel and I groused that it’s moldering on a hard drive. As it should be. It’s crap.

Tell me again what it’s about?

I did and that led to our discussion of WWII while he did what he had to do and I stared at the ceiling. I’ve had some interesting interactions in my time, but that is the first time I’ve talked of snipers and Omaha Beach while someone is looking at my cervix.

Once that bit of fun was over, I was shot full of tetanus and sent on my way with a prescription for happy pills and an appetite suppressant. After a stop in to submit to the phlebotomists aka non-sparkly vampires, I strolled across the hall where I was instructed to strip to the waist, rid myself of any trace of deodorant and powder and don a cape.

From Shogun Warrior to braless super hero. Who cared if I ever finished reading that Poirot?

I waited in a little room with another caped crusader and fiddled with my phone. It’s a little cold in here isn’t it? she had a lovely southern drawl. Her name was called and I was alone again with Hercule. A few pages later, I was invited into the room housing the breast press. The very patient technician helped me to pose, contorting myself so that my knockers could be mashed with the utmost efficiency.

Okay, hold your breath……don’t move.

I returned home with my nipple shields still in place. You never know when those things might come in handy.

Another year, another chance to prevent health problems. And if I have any sense at all, I’ll be aware that I’m lucky to have the medical insurance coverage to do this. Not everyone is so fortunate.

I could use one about now

I needed this today.

I have things to tell you, but for now I must settle for surreptitiously blogging for a sec during work. It’s only Monday and I’m already wishing there was a vodka fountain in this office because even my happy pills aren’t quite cutting through the madness.

But this is time sensitive so let’s get to it! One of you may have a vacation depending on it.

Order Fifty Shades of Funny before midnight tonight (November 26th) and for every Amazon book order, of the softcover or Kindle, you are eligible for a free beach vacation that includes a week at the Cottages of Shipyard in Hilton Head, a four star resort, and 50,000 US Airways miles (typically good for 2 round-trip tickets in the United States).

The vacation week is August 31-September 7, 2013.

To enter, email your Amazon receipt to dcstanfa@fuse.net.  One random winner will be chosen.

Order the book or I’ll send you a cat. A very badly behaved cat. No givebacks.

I could use one about now

I needed this today.

I have things to tell you, but for now I must settle for surreptitiously blogging for a sec during work. It’s only Monday and I’m already wishing there was a vodka fountain in this office because even my happy pills aren’t quite cutting through the madness.

But this is time sensitive so let’s get to it! One of you may have a vacation depending on it.

Order Fifty Shades of Funny before midnight tonight (November 26th) and for every Amazon book order, of the softcover or Kindle, you are eligible for a free beach vacation that includes a week at the Cottages of Shipyard in Hilton Head, a four star resort, and 50,000 US Airways miles (typically good for 2 round-trip tickets in the United States).

The vacation week is August 31-September 7, 2013.

To enter, email your Amazon receipt to dcstanfa@fuse.net.  One random winner will be chosen.

Order the book or I’ll send you a cat. A very badly behaved cat. No givebacks.

So I hear that something unfortunate will happen to me if I don’t say something about gratitude. And bob forbid I appear an ungrateful lout. So here we go – some of the things for which I am grateful. Please note: These are some of the things. Not all of them. It would take me forever to list them all and would likely horrify my children that I have once again mentioned stuff like that online.

1. Family and friends, continued good health and happiness. What is life, after all, without these?

2. My job. I’m pleased to have it and happy to like it.

2.1. I’m also grateful that I still have my job after telling the Master Chairman (aka the top guy) that I’d probably make a fuss over him like the one I made over a coworker’s dog if he licked my face, too.

3. I’m thankful that Chloe is home so that I can hear her say things like “I’m pre-gaming our pizza dinner with a bagel.” and “Vodka sounds fine to me.”

4.  I’m grateful for MathMan’s fitness so that he’ll be around to appreciate my passive aggressive behavior for many years to come.

5. Art of all kinds and the artists who create it. Again I ask, what would life be without these things?

6.  The ceasefire between Israel and the Palestinians. For the obvious reasons, of course.  But also because Chloe is scheduled to take her heritage tour next month. She’ll be gone for ten days and I don’t think I can go that long without sleep. Also too, my calls and emails to Bibi continue to be ignored.

7. Faux Spanx aka Fanx. Especially after today’s meal. Holy cats. I’m fifty percent pie right now.

8. The internet. It’s brought so much into my life.

9. The restorative properties of laughter.

10. I’m thrilled and grateful to have my first published piece in an anthology of wonderful, funny writers. Special thanks to DC Stanfa who read my work at the urging of her sister Sherry and asked me to be a part of Fifty Shades of Funny. (An entire post is yet to come on that, but for now you can learn more on the website. You can also purchase the book on Amazon.)

Okay, let me say that one more time — I’m published!!!!!!

And I’m fall down on the floor grateful. Don’t even try to pick me up. Just bring pie. Fork optional.

And of course, I’m grateful to all of you who come here and read and encourage me to keep writing and living and loving and laughing. You’ve helped us out when we needed it most. You’ve been my rock, my touchstone, my classroom full of giggling peers as I perform the beloved duties of Class Clown.

Gratitude doesn’t seem a big enough word.

With love and stuffing and a side of mashed potatoes,

Lisa

P.S.  Between now and midnight, Cyber Monday November 26 every Amazon book order of Fifty Shades of Funny softcover or Kindle order will be eligible for a free beach vacation ! It includes a week at the Cottages of Shipwreck in Hilton Head, a four star resort.. and 50,000 US Airways miles–typically good for 2 round-way tickets in the US. 

The instructions are as follows: Purchase a soft book or Kindle version between Thursday November 22 2012 and midnight Monday November 26 and email a copy of the receipt to dcstanfa@fuse.net. 

One random winner will be chosen. Here’s a link to the cottages website. The vacation week is August 31-September 7 2013. http://www.spinnakerresorts.com/resorts/hilton-head-island/cottages

Purchase the book 

Before the tryptophan takes hold

So I hear that something unfortunate will happen to me if I don’t say something about gratitude. And bob forbid I appear an ungrateful lout. So here we go – some of the things for which I am grateful. Please note: These are some of the things. Not all of them. It would take me forever to list them all and would likely horrify my children that I have once again mentioned stuff like that online.

1. Family and friends, continued good health and happiness. What is life, after all, without these?

2. My job. I’m pleased to have it and happy to like it.

2.1. I’m also grateful that I still have my job after telling the Master Chairman (aka the top guy) that I’d probably make a fuss over him like the one I made over a coworker’s dog if he licked my face, too.

3. I’m thankful that Chloe is home so that I can hear her say things like “I’m pre-gaming our pizza dinner with a bagel.” and “Vodka sounds fine to me.”

4.  I’m grateful for MathMan’s fitness so that he’ll be around to appreciate my passive aggressive behavior for many years to come.

5. Art of all kinds and the artists who create it. Again I ask, what would life be without these things?

6.  The ceasefire between Israel and the Palestinians. For the obvious reasons, of course.  But also because Chloe is scheduled to take her heritage tour next month. She’ll be gone for ten days and I don’t think I can go that long without sleep. Also too, my calls and emails to Bibi continue to be ignored.

7. Faux Spanx aka Fanx. Especially after today’s meal. Holy cats. I’m fifty percent pie right now.

8. The internet. It’s brought so much into my life.

9. The restorative properties of laughter.

10. I’m thrilled and grateful to have my first published piece in an anthology of wonderful, funny writers. Special thanks to DC Stanfa who read my work at the urging of her sister Sherry and asked me to be a part of Fifty Shades of Funny. (An entire post is yet to come on that, but for now you can learn more on the website. You can also purchase the book on Amazon.)

Okay, let me say that one more time — I’m published!!!!!!

And I’m fall down on the floor grateful. Don’t even try to pick me up. Just bring pie. Fork optional.

And of course, I’m grateful to all of you who come here and read and encourage me to keep writing and living and loving and laughing. You’ve helped us out when we needed it most. You’ve been my rock, my touchstone, my classroom full of giggling peers as I perform the beloved duties of Class Clown.

Gratitude doesn’t seem a big enough word.

With love and stuffing and a side of mashed potatoes,

Lisa

P.S.  Between now and midnight, Cyber Monday November 26 every Amazon book order of Fifty Shades of Funny softcover or Kindle order will be eligible for a free beach vacation ! It includes a week at the Cottages of Shipwreck in Hilton Head, a four star resort.. and 50,000 US Airways miles–typically good for 2 round-way tickets in the US. 

The instructions are as follows: Purchase a soft book or Kindle version between Thursday November 22 2012 and midnight Monday November 26 and email a copy of the receipt to dcstanfa@fuse.net. 

One random winner will be chosen. Here’s a link to the cottages website. The vacation week is August 31-September 7 2013. http://www.spinnakerresorts.com/resorts/hilton-head-island/cottages

Purchase the book 

Considering the Alternatives

If you think aging is bad, consider the alternative. – Every older volunteer with whom I ever worked

I turned forty-seven in October.

I’m still in that phase where I have to stop and think before I can say my age with confidence.

What surprises me is that I can say my age with confidence. Forty-seven. Forty-seven. Four decades plus seven years. Staring down fifty and not freaking out. I’m looking at the future as an opportunity, not a slow-fade.

When I was offered the opportunity to write this post in conjunction with Olay’s 60th anniversary, they asked “Are you daring enough to shout your age to the world?”

Not one to exactly shout, unless I’m trying to get my children’s attention, I’m more inclined to stage whisper “How did we reach the age of forty-seven already?” to my husband. He, by the way, is as fit as he’s been in most of our years together and I like to think we’re both aging gracefully – him because of all the running he’s doing, me because I’m smart enough to use Olay as part of my skin care routine.

The point is we’ve spent the last twenty-five years busy with the busyness of life – working, raising kids, getting by.

Now we can look ahead. I’m sure our best years lie ahead of us.

Our bucket list keeps growing. We’ve got traveling to do. Races to run. Books to write and art to make. I look ahead and see less time with the vacuum cleaner and more time with a book in my hand. Less time worrying, more time to challenge what’s possible.

Based on heredity, I’ve reached my mid-point. The last forty-seven years are a mixture of pleasure and sorrow, pride and regret, frustration and wonder. The things I’ve achieved weren’t necessarily planned and the things I didn’t achieve haunt me in the wee small hours when I can’t sleep. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m always asleep in the wee hours. The haunting happens when I’m behind the wheel of the car, but that doesn’t sound nearly as romantic or safe, does it?

I mean, they don’t make those little signs you can suction to your car window that read “Caution: Ruminating driver on board.”

I look ahead and think I have two choices: I can continue to bump along on the currents and let life happen or I can set some goals and go after them like I didn’t when I was busy doing the opposite of what I’d planned to do with my life.

In my planning, I sometimes skip ahead to the part where I’m in my seventies, my eighties. Contrary to what they may think, my daughters and I will dress in velour tracksuits of complimentary colors. Our hands manicured, our jewelry understated so that it doesn’t clash with our reading glasses we wear on chains around our necks. We’ll go places together and they’ll roll their eyes at me as I try to decide whether to have the Matzo ball soup or the martini.

And after I’ve ordered both, we’ll laugh, the lines around our eyes creasing with the sheer pleasure of being alive and together.

Olay is encouraging and rewarding women for checking items off their bucket list. What’s on yours?

How do you celebrate your age? Let me know in a comment below for a chance to win a $100 Visa gift card courtesy of Olay.

Rules:

No duplicate comments.

You may receive (2) total entries by selecting from the following entry methods:

a) Leave a comment in response to the sweepstakes prompt on this post

b) Tweet (public message) about this promotion; including exactly the following unique term in your tweet message: “”#SweepstakesEntry””; and leave the URL to that tweet in a comment on this post”

c) Blog about this promotion, including a disclosure that you are receiving a sweepstakes entry in exchange for writing the blog post, and leave the URL to that post in a comment on this post

d) For those with no Twitter or blog, read the official rules to learn about an alternate form of entry.

This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail. You have 72 hours to get back to me, otherwise a new winner will be selected.

The Official Rules are available here.

This sweepstakes runs from 11/12 to 12/12

Be sure to visit the Olay 60th Anniversary brand page on BlogHer.com where you can read other bloggers’ reviews and find more chances to win!

Sounds Like WILD

I finally finally read/listened to WILD by Cheryl Strayed.

Teri gave me the book back in April and I saved it, putting off reading it until I’d have real time to read and focus. This was going to be my inspiration for finally finally writing that creative non-fiction piece I’ve been dinking around with for a few years.

Waiting was ridiculous because I can neither focus nor pull free time out of my ass. You wanna do something? Do it.

Our library has the audio version. So perfect, I thought, because I could listen to it during my commute. I took along my hardback edition to read during my down time at the office (aka answering phones), in the car while I waited for Sophie to get out of swim team practice and whenever the spirit moved me. Which was often.

At first I was worried I wouldn’t relate to the story. Stories involving the pain of losing a parent make me feel like a selfish asshole because my parents are still alive and well enough that I take them for granted even though I should know better. They’re my mom and dad. They’ll live forever.

We weren’t what you’d call close-knit, but we get along fine. My brother and sister and me – our parents raised us with the fundamental idea that the purpose was for us to become productive, independent adults. And so we are.

The more I listened to Strayed’s story, the less I fretted that we wouldn’t connect. I wanted to hear how Cheryl made it from one end of the Pacific Coast Trail to the other alone. Alone! And she did all this without an iPod, an iPhone or an iPad. The 2012 mind reels.

What stayed with me was the fact that Cheryl Strayed didn’t even know what she didn’t know about taking on such a monumental hike and still she didn’t let that stop her. During a few close scrapes, you see how ignorance may be dangerous, but it’s also a great antidote to holding oneself back.

The overarching story of Cheryl’s trek was one in which she got lost to found herself. I get that. I’ve been running from things, especially myself, for way too long.  Get me some boots that fit, a compass for morons and a tent that even a one-year-old could set up and I’d be willing to make a go of it.

When I finished the book, I wanted to email Cheryl (yes, I think of her by her first name) and beg her to turn around and hike back down the trail and to take me with her. With my life feeling rather frayed around the edges, I could use some direction. Maybe some hiking and electronic deprivation would do me some good.

I don’t even care that I know jack about camping and I’ve never been on a proper hike. I’ve been training for this my whole life. My kids think I’m a pack-mule. While I was unemployed, it was nothing for me to go a few days without a shower. It was a smelly cake walk. Go weeks without shaving my legs, my pits, my toes? Bring it.  I could totally go for simplifying down to the essentials, packing it into something I can carry and disappearing into the wild like a short, bi-pedal hermit crab.

For now I’m roughing it at the Grand Hyatt Buckhead. The opposite of alone, I spent the day surrounded by excitable boys. Dinner was a Krispy Kreme milkshake at Flip Burger followed by a jaunt through the hospitality suite to grab an old fashioned. I haven’t climbed a single stair because I’m wearing pumps and the elevator is so very close to the meeting rooms where I’m sitting all day taking minutes and having obnoxious IM chats with my boss. And as if that isn’t grueling enough, I’m feeling a little put out that my amenities didn’t get replenished.What? No fresh shampoo or lotion? No new shower cap? If I had The World’s Loudest Whistle, you can bet I would have blown it this afternoon when I discovered the horror of no new toiletries.

This, my friends, is the kind of adversity that builds character. Okay, so maybe I’ll have to title my memoir MILD.

I can live with that.

They call him Mister President

This is the only thing I can muster in these long days of short daylight, an extra workload while I fill in for a vacancy, despair over the suffering of people around the world, inefficiently wishing away a Nor’easter that’s punishing the already punished, and a growing deficit of patience for stupidity.

Congratulations to the Citizens of the United States for voting for the expansion of freedoms.
With love and lots of yawning,

Lisa

P.S. Let’s all agree that we’re going to call him PRESIDENT Obama for the next four years, motherfuckers.

P.S.S. Please don’t tell my mother I used the word motherfucker. She still possesses the ability to shame me mercilessly.

They call him Mister President

This is the only thing I can muster in these long days of short daylight, an extra workload while I fill in for a vacancy, despair over the suffering of people around the world, inefficiently wishing away a Nor’easter that’s punishing the already punished, and a growing deficit of patience for stupidity.

Congratulations Citizens of the United States on voting for the expansion of freedoms.

With love and lots of yawning,

Lisa

P.S. Let’s all agree that we’re going to call him PRESIDENT Obama for the next four years, motherfuckers.

P.S.S. Please don’t tell my mother I used the word motherfucker. She still possesses the ability to shame me mercilessly.