Do you remember the doll Chatty Cathy? If you grew up in the early 60s, you probably had one. Second to Barbie, this pull-string talking toy was the most popular doll on the market. I had a Chatty Cathy and loved her dearly.
And like my doll, I was a regular Chatty Cathy. I talked so much as a child that my family used to pay me to keep quiet. I’d get a nickel for every fifteen minutes I’d keep still. The truth is, I didn’t collect many nickels.
I wasn’t just chatty. I was really friendly. I once invited a total stranger over to our house. When he showed up, my mother won’t let him in, of course. But he wouldn’t leave. My mother called the police and that night both my parents gave me a stern lecture about not talking to strangers.
Yet, if I wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, my middle-aged mother was setting a bad example. Read more
Pick up a fashion magazine, any fashion magazine, any day of the week, and you’ll find all sorts of tips on how to keep your skin youthful looking, your body from aging, and your hair shiny and healthy. Sadly, however, there is one aging dilemma yet to receive widespread media attention, and that is the problem of droopy earlobes.
Do your ears hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
That’s right – droopy earlobes. It is one of those dirty little tricks Mom Nature plays on you. As you get older, your earlobes droop, and all those precious dainty button earrings you have, suddenly don’t look so cute on your now dangling, bobbing, overly-spacious lobes.
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/shutterstock_644243953-1.jpg6661000Karenhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/logo.svgKaren2017-07-06 14:07:052018-06-28 17:17:50Do Your Ears Hang Low?
Early one morning our microwave broke. I ordered a new one. A delivery date and time for installation were set and that was that. No big deal, at least not for me, but for others, life without a microwave was a challenge. Read more
“I think, therefore I am,” Descartes said. Yet, as people age, many switch to a different, less inspiring paradigm, namely ‘I ache, therefore I am.”
I have, for instance, a cousin who spends entire telephone conversations reciting litanies of medical ills, without offering even one hosanna for the medical miracles that keep him alive and kicking and well enough to bitch and moan the whole time on the phone.
For my part, I have always vowed to age gracefully and suffer silently whatever slings and arrows come my way.
Well, that pledge has been put to the test lately and I confess, I have to give myself barely passing grades in the dignity and grace department.
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/shutterstock_531815716.jpg26533771Karenhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/logo.svgKaren2017-06-21 10:36:152018-10-05 11:41:41I Ache, Therefore I Am
I had gotten up early to prepare croissants for my Barnard College book club meeting. I baked, I dressed and was heading out the door, just when the gardener showed up, an hour earlier than expected.
The night before I had given Handsome Hubby (HH) a list of “to do” tasks to review with the gardener. HH had dutifully set his alarm for the expected arrival time. Yet, here was the gardener 60 minutes ahead of schedule and I needed to leave. What to do? I woke HH, who zombie-like lumbered out of bed.
Back in the car, I buckled my seat belt, adjusted the mirror and opened the garage door. I was inching the car out of the garage when I looked up. There was HH gesturing wildly for me to wait.
“Yes?” I expectantly and lovingly asked, opening the car window as he rushed to the side of the car.
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/croissant-2039386_960_720.jpg720960Karenhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/logo.svgKaren2017-06-14 10:45:392018-10-05 11:29:16Croissants vs. Kisses
It’s not my weight. My table manners. My political opinions or even my high-pitched snorting laugh. It’s gotten to the point he won’t be seen in public with me – or to be more precise – he won’t go for walks with me.