Tale of the Toilet

It's Potty Time

Tale of the Toilet

We just splurged on a fancy-pants electric toilet with a seat warmer and all sorts of bells and whistles. Unfortunately, it’s so complicated, it requires instruction to operate! Instead of taking reading material to the toilet, we’ve had to study before sitting! And so, with this tale of the toilet, please indulge me in a little potty talk! Read more

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Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving

Be it vegan, vegetarian, paleo, or traditional,
may your holiday be filled with favorite foods.

But most of all, I hope your day is
overflowing with laughter, love, fond memories, and gratitude.

As for me, I’m adding a hearty helping of thanks
for all my fantastic Muddling through Middle Aged readers.

Happy Thanksgiving.

It’s All a Blur. A Problem with My Eyes

At Last! An Old-Age Lament I'm Ok With!

A Problem with My Eyes

For at least a year now, I’ve noticed a problem with my eyes. No, that’s not specific enough. I’ve noticed a problem with my vision. No, that’s still not specific enough. For almost one year, I’ve had increasing trouble seeing. There. I’ve said it. I’m having trouble seeing. Read more

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Clean Freak Meets Her Match

Dust and Debris, One. Housewife, Zero

Clean Freak Meets Her Match

I’m a clean freak but I’ve met my match. I’m sitting in the middle of my house, surrounded by dust. I could clean, but I’ve given up. Yes, I’ve thrown in the dust towel. Read more

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Machismo on the Road

Fast Times. Big Trucks and Third-Finger Salutes

Machismo on the road

Here in the West, machismo on the road rules. It’s all about fast times. Big trucks. And go, man, go! Especially at a yellow light.

Just yesterday Handsome Hubby and I were reminded of that speed-up-at-a-yellow-light rule when Read more

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My Face Has Gone to the Dogs

More Bow Wow than Wow

My face has gone to the dogs

When I was a child, my Uncle George would grab my cheeks so hard I thought he’d lift me off the ground.

“Such a shayna punim,” he’d exclaim with joy. (The term is Yiddish. It literally means “pretty face” but colloquially means what a pretty girl.)

“Yes!” my parents would reply with equal joy.

At 6, I hated Uncle George as I rubbed my aching cheeks, and I hated my parents for allowing this unwelcome greeting. Read more

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