All Things Intentional

It's been said that good intentions pave a road to Hell. In my case, it's a super-highway with eight lanes.

I do; however, have the best of intentions. I wake up every day full of vigor and raring to go. However; somewhere between guzzling coffee and checking Facebook to see who took their garbage out that day, got a haircut, or cleaned between their toes, my list of good intentions finds me paving yet a new lane.

So...I make lists on Post-It notes. Several. I tape them to my purse, the inside of my car so I can view them, and also different strategic spots throughout the house. No space, living or otherwise, is sacred when it comes to Post-It note "sticking." Ask my dog.

I even carry said list into work and tape it to myself. Customers observe the list and go, "Oh aren't you smart! I wish I were that organized." Bawwhahahaha...(one born every day, eh?) Of course with all things being ABOUT ME, I beam, offer them my best philosophical look, and say pointing to the sky, "Well you know what they say...never put off today...bla...bla...bla." Hey, they started it.

Oh a good day, I've been known to go as far as actually reading the day's list. And then somewhere in the large, open space between my ears (think empty gymnasium) my intentions crumble and the list is forgotten.

At the end of the day, my list is replaced with a new and improved list; and the beat goes on. Are you sensing a pattern here?

I've realized something about myself. I am one of those people who just like to make list. Unfortunately, that's as far as it goes. In reading over the last 25 or so lists I've made, one could say I am statistically below average on accomplishing goals. So low I could walk upright under a snake's belly. Sigh...

Then again, it's all in perspective. I like to think I'm doing my part in keeping a lot of people employed at the Post-It Notes factories.

Oh crap, that reminds me...

1. Need more Post-It Notes
2. Thank neighbor for cake they brought over last year
3. ...

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Chipwrecked

I'm all about food. I should be...I work at a grocery store. I live, breathe, and ah...eat it. Every single day. I see the good, the bad, and the "what the H were they thinking?"

Take chips, for instance. On Saturdays before leaving, I browse through each aisle looking for a treat. One needs that special treat when one's watching TV late at night, am I right girls? Sooo...here I go, looking for that special something when what do I see? Hot Dog-flavored potato chips. Yes, you read that right.

OMG...is nothing sacred? I don't know about you, but when I eat a hot dog, I want the chips nestled beside my dog, not in it. Besides, if you skip the dogs entirely, aren't you putting a lot of people at the hot dog packaging plants out of work?

Let's not forget the hot-dog buns. Two industries; dead. Kaput. Wait! What about wherever the meat comes from? (No, I don't know and don't tell me and yes, I do know they don't come from trees. How dumb do you think I am? Don't answer that, it's one of those retro questions) But doesn't this strange combination of chips put those folks out of biz as well?

Food science has gone crazy, if you ask me. It's a dang chipwreck! Already there are:

• dill pickle potato chips
• BLT (bacon, lettuce and tomato) chips
• ketchup potato chips (um...I LOVE these...they should call them Ketchips!)
• pizza-tasting chips
• sour cream
• Parmesan and herb
• salt and vinegar
• BBQ, Onion, and on and on.

So why am I ranting about chips? Think about it...if this industry is so smart, why haven't they made any chocolate-flavored chips? Margarita-flavored chips? OREO-FLAVORED CHIPS, for Pete's sake? How hard could it be?

I'm thinking of boycotting the entire industry (except the Ketchips) until they meet my demands. Who's with me?

JJ - Once again tirelessly thinking for the entire world. Sigh...I doooo what I cannn.

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The Queen Speaks on Aging...or What Seniors Know

My friend Ruth wrote a blog on aging. You can read it Here. I read it twice to absorbed the wisdom there, and to enjoy feeling good about my age.

I have some thoughts of my own about aging. Since my brain (yes, I have one) is so full of "stuff," I thought I'd spit them out making room for more...ah...stuff. And you thought this was just another pretty face, am I right? Peeshaw...


Senior Queen's Top 10 Reasons Aging is a Good Thang

1. Seniors know that singing out loud every day will exercise and flex-i-ze your jaw muscles. Guess what? This makes it possible to cram six Oreo's into your mouth at one time - instead of the customary five. Singing in the car is a good time to get in that exercise. Ignore people who point, stare, and giggle at red lights. They are probably communist and don't eat Oreo's.

2. Seniors know that ugly feet are normal and anyway, who gives a rip? When was the last time you heard a man say, "Oh Bro! I just have to ask that babe out...did you get a load of her feet? They just don't make um like that anymore."

3. Seniors know that wrinkles = laughs. If you aren't laughing, then you are probably dead, or you wish you were. Me? I'm soooo alive.

4. Seniors know that goal setting began with someone who had bad habits they wanted to change. Bad habits are an art form and can take many years to develop properly. Think it through, peeps. No bad habits = no goals in life. Duh? If you don't have any bad habits, there again, you are probably dead. Me? Oh honey, I'm so, so, alive. (You can add another "so" in there)

5. Flabby arms have multiple uses. If we didn't have them, how would one permanently indent our "grandmaw" scent into the grand-children's tiny brains? They will recall it years down the road. I know I do. Flabby arms and hugging children tightly, also comes in handy when they want to repeat to your friend what you said about them last week. Tip: When children turn blue, lighten up your hold just a tad till friend is out of sight. See? Do I have to do all the thinking for you people? Sigh...it's hard being the Queen.

6. Seniors have learned that when a store announces proudly, "No, I'm sorry, we don't offer Senior Discounts," a pretend heart attack will get you 10% off, immediately...if for no reason other than to get you off their floor and out the door. Mention loose bowels and you get 25%! Have a REAL heart attack (this is optional) nets you 50%! No, don't thank me, I dooo what I cannn.

7. Seniors are wise and grasped the art of multitasking even at a younger age...say, like 50. For instance, if you didn't have a big tummy, where the heck would you sit your plate of food while watching TV, or playing Solitaire?

8. Seniors know that attending funerals and saying, "Don't she/he look good?" is mandatory. Taking BBQ and potato salad to their home afterwards; however, is reserved only for Southern Seniors. If I'm not mistaken, Northern Seniors take some sort of macaroni salad and/or dead moose.

9. Seniors know that volunteering at the local hospital not only provides insider information as to who kick the bucket that day, but allows you to be the first to deliver your homemade potato salad. Or dead moose; depending on your location.

10. Seniors know that the REAL goals in life are to tell family and friends how deeply you care for them, and make someone feel good today, if only for a moment. Do it just because you can, not because they owe you twenty bucks. Be good to yourself. Eat an Oreo or two...or five, sing in the car, take a friend to lunch (me), walk among nature, love a dog, cat, or a moose (alive, preferably), but most of all, love yourself.

JJ - loving God, family, life, and herself. In that order.   

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The Final Good-bye...or is it?

Writing is sacred to me. I haven't written in such a long time; mainly because my heart didn't have anything to say. You see, when I write, it's a window to my core. It tells the world what's going on inside of me.

To some, that's scary. Don't worry, your secrets are as safe as a Mother's love. Or as my dear friend Nancy used to say, "I'll keep it as good a secret as you did." Ouch!

Nancy kept me grounded and no whining. What kind of friend is that?

The truest kind. The kind of friend that finds the good in others even when you have to dig to China to find one morsel of good. One that will shake you and say, "Enough already! Put your big girl panties on and deal with it. Now, let's go have some Chinese food. That and duct tape can fix anything."

You know, she was right.

Nancy died. A disease ravaged her body and claimed a sad victory. First, I was angry at Nancy for supposedly giving up and leaving. Then sadness overwhelmed my soul. Mix that with the anger and what do you get? A woman who could walk upright under a snake's belly. I've never been lower.

I wasn't there when Nancy died, but I knew the instant she left. Gut? A solid, 40-year friendship? Dunno. I just know I felt something leave my heart.

It's taken me months to realize that it wasn't Nancy leaving that I felt that day, and it wasn't "the final good-bye." Nor was she making a hole in my heart to be filled up with endless tears. Always the organizer, Nancy was simply making room for all the memories to nestle in, get comfy, and nudge me on days when the loss seemed unbearable. Like today.

I miss my traveling buddy, my girl-pal, my confidant. I have so much to tell her; so much has happened. I'd write her a letter only I don't have stamps and let's face it, my "mail" person can't hit MY mailbox. So what are the odds my post would make it to Heaven?

I'd call, but I couldn't afford the long-distance charges, although AT&T would declare me their new, best friend.

So for today, like so many others, I'll gently retrieve the memories from their permanent home. I'll laugh, I'll cry and I'll hold conversations that only Nancy and I would understand.

I'll massage each and every memory until the edges are worn. Then, just like a favorite book that's been devoured again and again, I'll place them back where they belong. Most of all, I'll thank her for always being there...and for being here now.

I'll look for you in the clouds.JJ - BFF cloud watcher...

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Life Before Facebook

Don’t get me wrong, I love Facebook. So much so that I’ve added it to my early morning routine. It goes something like this.

1. Wake up. Put feet on floor. Avoid mirror.
2. Make coffee. Tap fingers while waiting on coffee
3. Cheat, slip cup under agonizing slow drip and get first cup
4. Sit in front of computer until coffee hits brain

After fueling, I check Facebook to see who’s celebrating another birthday, what animals need rescuing, and other miscellaneous posts. It’s what I do. However, some days it leaves me cold. It’s on those days that I’m reminded of a time when writing/receiving letters or cards was an important line of communicating with friends and family.

Whatever happened to writing a page or two, or even a short message (dare I say it?) longhand; and then actually mailing them? Who doesn’t love getting something in the mail besides, “we’re going to come and get your stuff if you don’t pay.” Bawwhahaha…you want my dust? Puleaseeee, be my guest.

For the record, I do have ONE friend who writes and it is always so exhilarating to know a letter is on the way. I wait impatiently with double—no wait, triple excitement as I watch for the post-person to deliver my friend’s fun-filled, detailed letter. Planting myself by the window, I watch…and wait…and wait. Kinda like the coffee thing.

Then…spotting the vehicle carrying my bounty, I race out to the mailbox in case she even thinks about NOT stopping. Post-person pulls up, rolls her eyes (why does she do this?) as I thrust my hand in her face and yell at the top of my lungs, ‘GIMME! GIMME!’ By the way, what’s a duffus?

Sadly, it seems writing letters or sending cards is a dying art. Well, except for bill collectors. Yet why?

Its fun, your replies can stir creative juices in your mind, and it keeps the post office in biz. It is a win-win.

Thank goodness peeps like Pam have excellent cards for practically nutin' so I can continue spreading joy (or some would say, manure) to my buds. Why not write to someone today; specifically, ME. Make it as straightforward as you want. Or lie. Lying is acceptable along with gossip, half-truths, and even no truths. Just write. I’ll be waiting outside with my dictionary looking up new words; like duffus.

Queenie - Waiting impatiently for letters, cards, and what the heck; donations in large, unmarked green bills; not the other kind.

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Top 5 Most Annoying Commercials

Every once in a while I need a rant. Here tis. Commercials annoy me. Like I need a car that can drive faster than I can sneeze? Or see a family of mucus doing the rumba in my throat?

However, if I listed every single commercial that annoys me, this blog would never end. So I narrowed it down to the "Top 5 Most Annoying Commercials" here in the Queendom.

Here they are listed one to five, with number FIVE being the big winner.

The AD SHAMEPAIGN...

1. Swifter Duster - Somebody please fire that ad person. You're not funny, you're overpriced, and I have one word left for you. MUTE. This commercial makes my butt want to crochet barbwire. Nuff said.

2. Victoria's Secret - Here's the REAL secret. Out of the bazillion women in the world, 10 can wear your "stuff." The rest of us visit the store, find nothing fits our bodes, gag at the prices, and then go home and eat a box of Oreo's. I have one word for you and it's a special one. P-O-R-N. What's the difference in that and VS commercials? And now I'm making room for all of the comments from the bazillion men in the world.

3. Old Navy - The talking mannequin movie was done in the 70s. Get over it. I have one word for you. Done. Make that two. Boring. There are tons of ad people unemployed. Fine one that's hungry and dump the ones insisting we'll LOVE seeing more talking mannequin's using words like "bootie." Hell-O OLD NAVY! Old being the operative word here.

4. Musinex - Do I really have to tell you that the short, ugly, slimy, fat guy with the raspy voice WILL NOT, I repeat, WILL NOT make me rush out and buy your product? I have one word for you. Gross. Make that one, GROSS. Notice the all caps? Pay attention because you almost made it to number five which is the MOST ANNOYING.

And the MOST ANNOYING COMMERCIALS ARE...

5. Political Ads - I could write a thesis here. You call our homes all day with recorded messages AND after 7:00 at night, UNINVITED, and right in the middle of "Dancing with the Stars." This alone should get you jail time.

You invade our TV's, ad nauseam (pun intended), and you sling mud against your opponent thinking this will make YOU look all innocent-like. My kids used to try that one. Didn't work for them either.

Do you stop there? Are you KIDDING me?

You send mail giving us more "dirt" on your opponent, you blatantly campaign at funerals (Hey, why not? In some states, the dead vote anyway), and you actually stand on the highway waving at us as we go to work. Some call this "target practice." I'm just sayin'...

Listen up...we're tired of you. You have nothing new to say, no respect for the voter's intelligence, and you never tell us what YOU will do. What you give us is the standard lines of "more jobs, more industry for our states, then more mud slinging. This is older than the dust in my living room. Too bad I can't "Pledge" you away...Pledge. That's the word I have for you.

The Pledge of Allegiance...try reading it. Or the Constitution. Remember those?

Quite frankly, I would love to see you run away with the mop and the mannequin, in fancy underwear that rides up in places that never see sunshine, doing the rumba.


JJ - Feeling better already! Who made YOUR list?

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Senior Citizens Discounts - I'm in!

I love coupons, don't you? Just think. You can get 50 cents off a product if you buy ten of them! How cool is that?

Whatttt? Oh sure, like you couldn't use ten cans of potted meat? I suppose next you'll tell me you've never heard of potted meatloaf. Potted spaghetti? Mac and potted cheese? Potted roast? A milk potted bath?

No matter; 'cause recently I discovered there's an even better discount going on called, "Senior Citizen discounts." Now I know you find it hard to believe I fall into this category, but alas, da Queen here is a SC. Young at heart, yet senior in body and mind. Let's hope they don't catch up to each other.

AnyHOO...did you know you can get Senior Coffee at McDonalds, Hardee's and all the other fast food places? Not only that, but you can drive around and go back thru the window and get another one! Same discount. I ain't lying, either. Another three trips and you have a full cup, too. Only in America.

Movies, restaurants, hotels, and even some concerts offer senior discounts. Car insurance? Discount. Clothing? Discount. Some places even DOUBLE your coupons on Saturday. I swear, senior discounts are like bird poop, they are everywhere! There's even discounts for Gyms, if you're crazy enough to join one.

So tell me; why aren't doctors and hospitals in on the game? Hello? Would it hurt them to offer a dollar or two off broken bones or surgery? I can just see it now..."Ah, Ms Queenie, that will be $14,278 dollars to remove your appendix, BUT! Today, if you let us take out that nasty old gall bladder, you get a two-fer. Two for the price of one! Whatcha say? You in?"

A two-fer? You betcha! This old gal wasn't born yesterday and I know a deal when I hear one. I may have to cut back on the potted meat sales, but a two-fer? I'm in.

Come one peeps...get with it. Seniors rule. At least for the next twenty years or so.

Discounts - that's what I'm talkin' bout.

JJ - Plotting, potting, and discounting her way through life.

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Grandchildren Teach Us

My grandchildren offer me insight, eye-openers, and heartburn. They also give me pure and unconditional love. Who else does that?

The most important thing they offer though is lessons in life, should I care to learn them.

After this past weekend at Bernie's grandma’s house, I was once again the student.

My grandchildren taught me:

1. Kids are smarter than we are, or were. When discussing upcoming birthdays, it seems I'm not "with it." In their hip language, one said, "Grandma," (insert rolling eyes); "Check THAT off your list. Nooooobody gets THAT!" Well excuse me...if an etch-a-sketch was good enough for ME at six, it should be good enough for you.

A laptop? I don't thinkkkkkk so. Who do I look like, Donald Thrump? (Okay, maybe on a bad hair day, but that's beside the point)

2. Kids love, absolutely LOVE games and especially hide and seek, i.e., hiding things of great value from grandma. Anybody seen my glasses?

3. Kids love to sleep with grandmas. Two kids and one fluffy grandma cannot sleep in one bed no matter how much you cling to the side. Don't EVEN suggest taking out the three dolls, a teddy bear missing a nose (that's another story), or their favorite books, movies, and half-eaten fruit. Snug as a bug in a rug...sigh.

4. Kids want to help. Teaching them responsibility is a good thing unless they decide to water your plants when you're not around...and the hardwood floors. Shop vacs...they are our friend.

5. Kids love bath time and getting naked. They also love to watch grandma's hissy fit when they run outside to greet the neighbors. Never turn your back on a 4-year old. EVER.

6. Kids love to dance; however, showing them YOUR moves from 196_ is a big mistake. Suddenly, you feel your age and the hysterical laughter doesn't help.

7. Kids love to help make milkshakes. Note to self: Check lid on mixer. Keep shop vac near.

8. Kids love to play dress up. Especially wearing your favorite blouse as they eat Spaghetti-O's. Ewww...Shop vac's can't fix that.

9. Kids love makeup and perfume. They love smearing it on until they resemble hookers...oh, and making the cat smell pretty. At least now the cat can't hide. I just follow the smell. Padlocks, they are ALSO our friend

10. Kids love their grandmas. Why not? It's the only place they can come, totally be kids, and eat, drink, and ah…be scary.

I love my grandchildren more than my life. They make me so happy when they arrive. On more adventurous days I’ll admit, I'm equally happy when they depart.

My grandbeauties have taught me that sleep, glasses, and live plants—these things can be replaced—but love, unconditional love bestowed with giant hugs and sloppy kisses...never.

JJ, the proud grandma knowing they just don't make a Hallmark for that.

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