I realize that I may have offended some of you dear ladies yesterday with my rant about the church thermostat. If so, I apologize. I can only say that my internal temperature registers about 120 degrees.
I've thought of removing some articles of clothing while at church, but I'm wondering what that would be. The obvious is my underwire bra. That miracle of engineering and micro-fiber keeps the girls from flopping around, but it does trap the heat. Specifically, sweat gathers right along the underwire. Not a pleasant sensation.
Have you ever removed a bra while in polite company? Let me tell you, it takes some maneuvering. First, you slip one strap over your shoulder, followed by the other. Surreptitiously, you unhook the back of it. then you slide the whole thing down and pull it out from underneath your blouse or top and stash it in your purse or your husband's suit pocket if you don't have a purse. (If you're wearing a dress, forget about it. You're screwed.)
Gem for the day: forget the bra and let the girls flop. You and they will be happier.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Friday, July 12, 2013
Day 210, July 12
The heat makes me cranky. Really, just about anything these days makes me cranky, but, what the hell, it's July so I'm blaming the heat.
Those of you who also suffer from heat induced crankiness may relate when I tell you the story of the thermostat wars in our church. A certain element (including me) likes the thermostat set to meat-locker-coolness. Another element prefers the thermostat set to broil-a-chicken temperature.
Each Sunday one lady will surreptitiously turn down the thermostat. Along comes another lady who sets it back up. It would be comical if it weren't for those of us whose temperatures are plummeting then rising then plummeting again.
Gem for the day: if you're cold in church, wear a sweater. There's a limit to what the rest of us can take off.
Those of you who also suffer from heat induced crankiness may relate when I tell you the story of the thermostat wars in our church. A certain element (including me) likes the thermostat set to meat-locker-coolness. Another element prefers the thermostat set to broil-a-chicken temperature.
Each Sunday one lady will surreptitiously turn down the thermostat. Along comes another lady who sets it back up. It would be comical if it weren't for those of us whose temperatures are plummeting then rising then plummeting again.
Gem for the day: if you're cold in church, wear a sweater. There's a limit to what the rest of us can take off.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Day 209, July 11
Well, we're back to skin care. Again.
Have you heard what Japanese women do keep their skin ultra soft and white? They use the execrement of nightingales. If you don't know what excrement is, it's plain, old-fashioned poop.
I'm willing to do a lot in the name of beauty, but I'm not willing to go around scooping up nightingale poop. And where do you store it once you've gotten it? The refrigerator? I hope not. But the stuff will probably go bad if you just leave it at room temperature. Maybe you can have a separate refrigerator for skin care goop, such as sheep placenta and nightingale poop. Something to ponder ...
Gem for the day: if you're willing to scoop up poop, you qualify for pioneer woman status.
(PS Did you notice that goop and poop rhyme? The writer in me loves that.)
Have you heard what Japanese women do keep their skin ultra soft and white? They use the execrement of nightingales. If you don't know what excrement is, it's plain, old-fashioned poop.
I'm willing to do a lot in the name of beauty, but I'm not willing to go around scooping up nightingale poop. And where do you store it once you've gotten it? The refrigerator? I hope not. But the stuff will probably go bad if you just leave it at room temperature. Maybe you can have a separate refrigerator for skin care goop, such as sheep placenta and nightingale poop. Something to ponder ...
Gem for the day: if you're willing to scoop up poop, you qualify for pioneer woman status.
(PS Did you notice that goop and poop rhyme? The writer in me loves that.)
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Day 208, July 10
My failing memory does not register if I explained how I came upon the name "The Wretch" for my beloved. It's a sweet story, if I do say so myself.
The Wretch and I just celebrated our 40th anniversary a few months ago. We have always had pet names for each other. These names have evolved over the years, along with our bodies, our minds, and our good natures. He used to call me his sex goddess. Lately, he has started referring to me as "Geezer."
Such a loving appellation deserves an equally loving one. Hence, The Wretch. (I figure I'm in good company. Phyllis Diller referred to her husband as Fang.)
Gem for the day: if your significant other gives you a name, give it right back to him.
The Wretch and I just celebrated our 40th anniversary a few months ago. We have always had pet names for each other. These names have evolved over the years, along with our bodies, our minds, and our good natures. He used to call me his sex goddess. Lately, he has started referring to me as "Geezer."
Such a loving appellation deserves an equally loving one. Hence, The Wretch. (I figure I'm in good company. Phyllis Diller referred to her husband as Fang.)
Gem for the day: if your significant other gives you a name, give it right back to him.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Day 207, July 9
I just can't pull myself away from the subject of skin, specifically my skin, wrinkled mass that it is. Today's subject is pores. What do we do with them? Where do we put them? How can we remove them?
Pores are those teeny, tiny holes in your face that suck in every bit of dirt, sweat, makeup, cream, air pollution, and a host of other nasties. At one time I prided myself that I didn't have many pores. Then The Wretch pointed them out to me. All of a sudden, I had hundreds of the little rascals populating my face.
May I point out that The Wretch did not notice my pores until he started wearing glasses?
Gem for the day: stay away from people who wear glasses or have perfect eyesight. Only associate with those whose vision is as poor as your own.
Pores are those teeny, tiny holes in your face that suck in every bit of dirt, sweat, makeup, cream, air pollution, and a host of other nasties. At one time I prided myself that I didn't have many pores. Then The Wretch pointed them out to me. All of a sudden, I had hundreds of the little rascals populating my face.
May I point out that The Wretch did not notice my pores until he started wearing glasses?
Gem for the day: stay away from people who wear glasses or have perfect eyesight. Only associate with those whose vision is as poor as your own.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Day 206, July 8
I seem obsessed these days with restoring my skin to its once youthful firmness and glow. This has been prompted by several events--the TV show I mentioned yesterday with its sheep placenta, being bombarded with ads for every cream under the sun, and, finally by The Wretch's comments that I had officially entered geezer-dom. (Is it any wonder I refer to him as The Wretch?)
I've tried my own restoratives and hit upon what I think is a winner. Crisco. Yes, good, old-fashioned Crisco. Slather it on your face at night and you'll have skin as soft as a baby's behind in the morning. Of course, you'll ruin your pillowcases and sheets, but, after all, sacrifices must be made in the name of beauty.
Gem for the day: Crisco (I buy the dollar store stuff) is a hell of a lot cheaper than raising your own sheep to get that placenta.
I've tried my own restoratives and hit upon what I think is a winner. Crisco. Yes, good, old-fashioned Crisco. Slather it on your face at night and you'll have skin as soft as a baby's behind in the morning. Of course, you'll ruin your pillowcases and sheets, but, after all, sacrifices must be made in the name of beauty.
Gem for the day: Crisco (I buy the dollar store stuff) is a hell of a lot cheaper than raising your own sheep to get that placenta.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Day 205, July 7
Once again, the Menopause Monocler took some days (as in 6 months) off. But she's back. And does she have some observations for you.
The other day I was channel surfing and came upon a talk show where the topic was turning back the hands on time on our faces. (That's going to be a whole lot of turning in my case.) The big news was using sheep placenta to restore youthful glow and firmness.
Really? Sheep placenta?
The host did not say where we would get such placenta, and I had visions of my wrestling some more unsuspecting pregnant sheep to the ground, (gently) inducing labor, and then making away with her placenta. After all, what was she going to do with it? Bury it in the ground and plant a tree over it?
That begs the question, what do I do with said placenta? I assume that I would slap it on my face, wait for it to do its magic, then scrub my face until it was raw to get all that blood and guck off. Seems like that would defeat the whole purpose of restoring oils and nutrients to my prune like skin.
Gem for the day: if someone suggests you use sheep placenta on your face, ask them who's going to go get it.
The other day I was channel surfing and came upon a talk show where the topic was turning back the hands on time on our faces. (That's going to be a whole lot of turning in my case.) The big news was using sheep placenta to restore youthful glow and firmness.
Really? Sheep placenta?
The host did not say where we would get such placenta, and I had visions of my wrestling some more unsuspecting pregnant sheep to the ground, (gently) inducing labor, and then making away with her placenta. After all, what was she going to do with it? Bury it in the ground and plant a tree over it?
That begs the question, what do I do with said placenta? I assume that I would slap it on my face, wait for it to do its magic, then scrub my face until it was raw to get all that blood and guck off. Seems like that would defeat the whole purpose of restoring oils and nutrients to my prune like skin.
Gem for the day: if someone suggests you use sheep placenta on your face, ask them who's going to go get it.
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