Thursday, April 19, 2007

I souldn't go out alone

I can see the headlines now:

60 year old woman charged with indecent exposure

let me 'splain. Larry and I went out to Stewart's for his morning walk and to get the papers. I decided to continue on a walk listening to one of the tapes a friend sent me. I went to the bank then continued down Hutchins Dr a to walk back home via the Crest. It's about a 4 mile hike over all. Honest to God as soon as I start to walk more than my usual amount my bladder decides it's full and starts to protest...painfully and loudly.

So here I am on Hutchins Rd by the woods and I think....I'll just nip into the woods a do a quick pee....(how hard is that? people have been doing that since time started for God's sake). I forget that I'm not as spry as I once was so I climb over this bank, over trees, through mud and muck to an area that I think is secluded, tripping and nearly falling at every step. I go to pull down my pants and I hear in the far off distance, a sound. Now mind you I have my pants pulled down and my bare ass is stuck out in back as I'm trying to balance while doing the deed without splashing all over the place....This is not as easy task for women....Men have it easier, just whip it out and hose down the area.

The sound is getting closer, I'm not stopping the flow, it keeps coming and coming as the sound gets closer. I envision everything, including someone with a gun, camera or a group of reporters coming towards me. Still the stream flows from my body. Finally I stop and attempt to pull my pants up and I turn around, there just barely behind me is a deer looking at me like I'm totally nuts.. I wasn't sure if I should move or what. We stared at each other and the deer finally took off running. Honestly I shouldn't be allowed to go out by myself....

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

What to wear?? What to wear?

You know guys have it great. They can pack for trips in no time at all. They need a pair of jeans, a pair of Khaki's ( or something like that), a button down shirt, golf shirt or tee shirt, a couple of pairs of underpants, socks, shoes, a light jacket and maybe sneaks. With that assortment they can go and do almost anything. Yes, of course they need their toiletries, (what? deodorant, a razor, toothbrush and toothpaste? Big whoop...) but they can get along with these few things and be away for a week or two.

Women on the other hand have a bit more difficulty. Now don't get all worked up and tell me:
1. That I don't know how to pack.
2. That I don't need so much stuff.
3. That I don't need all those shoes...

Let me explain what I, and many of my friends who have discussed this with me at length, say about this topic. We women have to wear things that are comfortable but at the same time these items must conform with the culture we're visiting. (and yes I'm talking about all the cultures we have in this world, including the bunch we have in this country the south you wear brighter, lighter clothing. The north, you wear duller warmer clothing on top of other duller, warmer and bulkier clothing, The Midwest you wear matching outfits, the west it's denim and rhinestones, the far west...well you know, just about anything goes out there. Once you determine where you're going then the fun really starts, figuring out what to pack.

As a woman of substance, both in stature and age, there are things I don't wear, no cutesy thongs, tube tops, bikinis, short shorts, ripped denim jeans, tops cut to the navel, or dresses that look as if they're made for my three year old granddaughter. That's just stupid to wear that stuff at my age. ( Oh stop... you know as well as I that an old fat woman doesn't look great in a bikini nor a tube top, and don't get me started about butt floss....). My wardrobe is not considered conservative by any means, but it's not on the edge either. I am what my kids call, "modified Hippie". That being said, I have to agree with them. Many of my friends just look at me and shake their heads. I can't help it if I like Hawaiian Print shirts as over shells, they're bright and cheerful and you can wear a multitude of sleeveless different colored shirts under them. To me they're like a basic black dress, you can wear it almost anywhere...OK maybe not a funeral...unless you're in Hawaii, I bet there you could wear the shirt.

So knowing what I like to wear I determined I could probably get away with a couple of pairs of shorts, a few sleeveless "shells"( you know what they are...nondescript scoop necked, sleeveless, knit shirts that can be worn under just about anything.), a pair of jeans, and something dressier to go out to dinner, sort of business casual with a scarf, possibly a thin jacket as well. I thought that could take care of almost anything that I might need.

I don't know how you pack, but I do things this way: First I wash everything I even remotely think I'll be taking, then make sure everything is in "company condition", no holes, threads hanging, tears in seams, stains on the boob area...(yes I do have that problem...dropping stuff down the front of my shirt. I have a friend that puts an appliques on all her "dribbles" then says she's "personalized" her clothing...she just camouflages everything...she's not fooling anyone anymore, but it's not a bad idea...) no ripped out hems. When I've determined that I have all the best of the best, I lay anything I think I'm going to take on the couch in the living room and decide what looks the best on the couch. I eliminate most of it, put it away then look at the pile again. Although by this time I have put the outfits together so I can really see how I think the items will look when I wear them.

Now comes the fun part. I try on the stuff I think I'm going to take, to see if:
1. it still fits(this is a biggie for me. I never know if something I wore 6 months ago will still fit me or maybe it'll be too big-not usually-this is what is known as a "pipe dream")
2. it looks like I thought it would look like on me
3. I don't look like: The Bride of Frankenstein, The Cookie Monster, Swamp Thing (I did have an outfit I called "Swamp Thing". It was Army green in color and had strings , like fur, all over it. It had a "shell" and a jacket. Every time I wore the "thing" old men would come up to me and want to touch it....sometimes I didn't mind that, but at other times it freaked me out...) or the Loch Ness Monster (I"m Scottish).

When I've determined what is the "chosen" I start to do the packing. Usually this is the time my husband says, "Hey, Suzanne, do you think I need more than one pair of pants and a shirt? I'm packed." ( Even after 40 years he honestly has no idea how many times he's been close to death).

I get the underpants, bras, night attire, socks, shoes (another biggie- women need more shoes than men and that's the absolute truth...even my husband agrees...We can't bring one pair. We need the shoes to match the outfits, culture, agenda and weather. No brainner, right? Well the damned shoes take up a lot of room. I wear the "average" size 8, so don't think I have huge feet. My heart goes out to the women that have larger shoe the Hell do you pack your shoes?? My own take up the whole bag, consequently I don't pack them in the suitcase...If I have to pack them I pack in, around and on top of them. After the determination of the shoes ( this is pretty tough to do, believe me I'm not making light of this. This shoe dilemma can make or break the vacation....don't kid yourself about that... Ever go to a place that's all cobblestones in a pair of soft calf leather flats??? Not a pretty sight ( and I mean the feet) after a day of trying to walk without crippling yourself... There is absolutely nothing worse than having shoes that don't fit your needs on vacation. Forget about the thought that you can buy something where you are... My experience has been when I figure out I have the wrong type of footwear I'm in a place that either: doesn't understand my dilemma, or doesn't carry the type of footwear I need. (Example: I was walking on Edinburgh's Royal mile. The rain was falling horizontally and had soaked my feet and socks, the wind was blowing gale force winds, the sole of my shoe decided at that moment to disintegrate ( these were new shoes I bought for the trip-leather,small heels, very proper walking they said...they were not...). My first thought was to find a pair of Nikes, Addidas, Saucony...something that would afford me the comfort I was seeking, the dryness I desperately needed, and a sole that wouldn't die as I was walking on it. I went into a shoe store prepared to spend any amount of money for a pair of freaking sneakers. The salesman was ever so polite as he assured me he didn't think any of the shoppes on the Royal Mile sold "active wear shoes". They were more into the "fashion wear" shoes. I looked down at my, dead "fashion wear" shoes and looked up at him and said, "Can you repair these? or maybe, just give me some plastic bags and a few rubber bands and I'll fashion my own "active wear" shoes out of the remains of these "fashion wear" ones." That's the experience I've had, so I don't leave anything to chance any longer...)

I start to pack all the stuff I'm going to need, and some that I think I'll need, maybe. This is when Larry walks in and says, "What? You're not packed yet? What have you been doing?" Let me tell you it's a damned good thing the knives are far away from the living room. I would plunge one into his chest if they were nearer... I look up and him and he realizes that, perhaps he shouldn't be near me at that particular moment. He retreats to the "Man cave" in the cellar, leaving me to continue my task.

By the time I have everything assembled into a huge rolled pile (rolling keeps the clothes from becoming a wrinkled mess...that way I can eliminate the need for the stupid little travel iron. The one that has left scars on my hands over the years. It's a deadly device, invented by someone from one of the death camps during WWII, I'm convinced.) I place the roll into the suitcase. If I'm lucky, I can get it into the case I've chosen for the adventure in traveling I'm about to do. Usually, I have to adjust my thoughts about the case or the items to put into the case, sometimes both.

By the time I zip up the case, (what ever case I finally decide on) I've changed my mind several times about the contents. I have a rule I try not to break. When the case is closed, I don't go into it again until I get to the destination. It's my way of eliminating those last minutes additions or subtractions of clothing that would mean repacking the whole case again.

My objective is to wear everything I've brought with me on the trip at one time or another. I'm pretty good at packing what I'll use, but it isn't something I can do in 10 minutes , like the other person that lives with me.

The moral of this blog is: " Stay away from the other people who are packing at the same time. Don't watch them and don't remind them what they need to take. Laugh your ass off when you get to the destination and they realize they forgot their underpants".

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Jeans Talk

I went into "Chubette Bryant" today (a.k.a. Lane Bryant) to see what kind of cutesy stuff they might have for the upcoming trip to Hawaii. I'm not looking for much, I have enough stuff right now to clothe a small (maybe medium) third world country, but I'm always looking for something cool and different.

Chubette's has changed somewhat in the last few years. Apparently all this talk about the "Obesity of America" got to their buyers and they actually started to find clothes that weren't something out of 1950. The kind of stuff they used to sell was really bad. Honestly, I wouldn't wear it to the proverbial dog fight ( where is that dog fight anyway? Has anyone been to a dog fight recently? Probably not since our relationship with our dogs has changed so much in the past few years. Dogs are now up there with kings, queens and super powers. They are held in higher regard than most people today. Look how much of the news has been spent on the "poisoned food" of late. Don't get all up in arms, I love dogs but they're dogs, not people for God's sake. When you here about a kid getting abused it's a story once, maybe twice, but if it's about the abuse of a dog, or any animal for that matter, this country goes berserk-what's that all about?)

I digress, sorry. As I walked through the aisles of my neighborhood Chubette Bryant I couldn't help but overhear a couple of the other "chubette's" in the store talking about the way they buy jeans. Man, you have no idea ( or at least it was news to me) what some people do to a pair of jeans.

The one woman, who was a good 250lbs was telling the other she found a way to get into the jeans that were clearly too small for her. She went on to say how she stepped into the legs of the jeans, then grabbed hold of the dresser in front of her, leaned over the dresser to brace herself. She then proceeded to try and do a split from side to side, then one foot in front of the other, all the time stretching the denim. (I felt sorry for the fabric). She went on to say as she stretched the bottom of the jeans she pulled the pant leg up further on her legs continuing to do this shimmy routine the whole way. She stretched and strained until the pants were under her substantial buttocks then she would do some deep knee squats. Deep knee squats! If she did more of them she wouldn't have to do the splits and shimmies I thought. (I'm fat so I can be critical about this- you can't if you're not fat too). This woman did more exercising putting on these pants than I've done in the last three months. Listening to her I was calculating how many calories she was burning as she attempted to become sausage filling in these jeans. I thought about the scenes I've watched as sausage was being squeezed into casing and the comparison was weird but it was similar.

I walked behind them listening at the same time pretending to be really interested in the 48 DDD bras I was looking at. (Man those things have to reinforced like crazy) . The young woman continued her explanation on the final stages of this amazing exercise routine.

She said after she had the pants about half way up her rear end she then fell backwards onto the bed and pulled her legs up to her chest. (Can you see this?) She would then wiggle back and forth and pull the waist until it pulled the back of the pants over her buttocks and the waist band was almost at the correct place on her waist. She then lifted her rear into the air and pushed her stomach in, kneading the flesh and whatever into the spaces she could find in the jeans. ( What spaces? She's probably pulled the fabric to the breaking point by this time, I would guess) She pulled and tugged at the waist band to button the top of the pants at the same time pushing the flesh and fat into the casing, I mean jeans. She grabbed the zipper tab and started to pull it up slowly as she sucked in all her breath, lifted her butt, and compressed her thighs, legs and stomach. She pulled until she got that sucker up to the top, then dropped her butt back on the bed and tried to breathe. She said she would lay there for a minute or two to rest ( freaking right! rest! she's lucky she didn't have a stroke or a heart attack!). When she was rested a bit she would stretch her legs and pull her knees up to her chest again to continue the stretching of the fabric.

Now, listen, I have to tell you after going through all that don't you think that when she stood up she'd have a huge roll of fat falling over the waist of the pants? I know I do if I put pants on that are too tight. Apparently her friend thought the same because I heard her ask about the excess flesh that she had squeezed up and out. The woman laughed and said she wore big over blouses and no one knew what was under there. Want to bet?

Monday, April 2, 2007

Dead or Alive

I think I've finally lost it. When I can't seem to get myself to sleep at night I sit at this computer and play. I look on sites that have information, and I find things about stuff I never knew existed and to tell you the truth I didn't care if they existed or not but I found out about them anyway.

Tonight was one of those nights where I just couldn't settle down to sleep, so I thought I would go to the computer and find out about a new website I read about in a magazine. It's called and it's for the "more mature" person. So it's for old folks, OK?

They have all sorts of information on the site and one of the things seemed to be intriguing. It's called brain games or something to that effect. They list a bunch of games you play and the way you respond measures your brain capacity in some way.

I figured I'd see what games they list. I played some word games ( I'm in the "expert" category on these, probably fifth grade, games). It was fun, so I continued to navigate through until I hit on the game called, "Dead or Alive".

I don't know what brain function this game measures but I really don't care. I got sucked into this game and then I realized it was much like the gambling people do at the beginning of the year when they make up the "Dead lists". They bet on who they think will die during the next year and at the end of the year the one with the most, "deads" wins the whole thing. A bit macabre but healthy fun, I guess.

I continued to play the game until I realized that most of these folks weren't much older than me and then I felt the game wasn't all that great anymore. I looked at the faces who were dead and tried to remember how old they were when they died. Yes, they were older than me but not like 20 years older. No, some were only a couple of years older than me, some were even younger than me. I decided to play the fifth grade version of the word games and leave the dead or alive to someone else to play.... I think I'm getting a bit too serious about these games...