Rear Window revisited

Over the last year or so I have spent an inordinate amount of time at home, for one reason or another, and have become my own version of Rear Window.  I don’t go so far as using binoculars to spy, but I have to say, I’m quite the stalker.

We live in a neighborhood that backs up to a little shopping center, where the activity never stops.  From my backyard patio, looking up, you see beautiful trees and mountains and feel like you are in paradise. From the upstairs, you see CVS and the other lovely retail stores, getting quite the reality check.

Spending so much time upstairs in my office, [because I work from home, and am a computer junkie], I tend to stare out the window more often than not, while I work.  I have some of the best people-watching sightings from the comfort of my own home. You think waiting at the airport to board a flight is good stuff?  Come hang with me for a day. I have my own personal Wal Mart-like shoppers in my own backyard.

So here I sit, elbow on desk, chin resting in the palm of my hand, staring out at the hustle bustle of the parking lot. Out of the corner of my eye I see a person jogging and I turn to look at this woman running by, in a tutu. That’s right…she’s jogging in a pink tutu. Seriously? Why on earth would anyone consciously put on a tutu and go out for a run?

My favorite sighting is at lunch time, when the firemen pull up in their ‘rig’ and slowly descend from the fire truck…one by one...step by step…suspenders hanging down from their broad shoulders, draping their lean hips…their hard bodies…………..oh…sorry…I was getting a little carried away there.

There is a mailbox on the sidewalk across the street that does more business than the post office. I didn’t really think people did snail mail much anymore, but to my surprise, people are dropping off letters at all hours of the day and night. And they don’t quietly or gently open the chute door, they bang it open and closed like they are making sure everyone in a 5 mile radius can hear them. And who mails letters at 3AM in the morning? Let me tell you who…the people in my town do. Can’t they put it in their own mailbox and wait for the letter carrier to come, or at least do it a little more quietly so as not to bolt me to an upright position in the middle of my beauty sleep?

There is also a bank in this mini shopping center. Yes…I have the pleasure of staring out at the Chase sign; the bright blue NEON Chase logo that shines into my bedroom window each and every night.  But during the daylight hours…it’s amazing to watch the people and their habits as they use the ATM machines. Some of them looking around shifty eyed, like they are attempting to take money that’s not rightfully theirs. Body language abounds…frustrated when the machine isn’t spitting it out like it should. Stomping and hitting it until it does what they are electronically asking of it. Then there are those who are checking themselves out in that little camera mirror…picking food out of their teeth or fixing their hair, some even putting on lipstick. Do they not realize they are on camera and probably are the talk of the tellers the next day? I know when I go up to an ATM I try to act really nonchalant as if I don’t know I’m being taped…because I’m just that cool, [or so I like to pretend.]

I love watching the people who go into the little café. They walk in spry and bouncy and come out slow and lumbering…holding their stomachs, obviously having eaten too much. Show a little discipline people!

The car alarm noises are astounding. First of all, who even pays attention to car alarms anymore? The sirens and flashing lights are like an everyday occurrence and not one person looks over to see if anything out of the ordinary is going on. All it does it irritate the shit out of all the people in the surrounding areas to a point where you want to just go over and smash in the window yourself to turn it off. It would never occur to me that anyone was actually breaking into the car itself. Is that what car alarms are still used for? I think not.

Anyway…one afternoon I hear voices coming from the parking lot. Angry voices. Shouting voices. Inaudible to begin with until I open the window and peek my head out so far I almost fall over and splat onto the patio bricks. But I contain myself, although not able to hear any of the conversation; only muffled voices like the parents in the Peanuts cartoons. It had started with just one cop car. A few minutes later, another pulls up, and then another, until there are 6 cop cars surrounding this one guy.  He’s sitting on the ground yelling at them but no handcuffs are on him. So I figured he couldn’t have been trying to rob the bank or they would have immediately handcuffed him. He also wouldn’t be alone, because no one robs a bank by themselves. [Or so I’ve seen on NCIS and every other TV show I watch.]  They are there questioning him for what seems like hours. Then he tries to escape and I hear gun shots. Are you kidding me? Gun shots in MY neighborhood? Oh…..my…..god. I duck down under my desk until I think it’s safe to come out, almost peeing in my pants.  When I finally do come out after who knows how long…everyone is gone. Huh? How can that be?

Later that day, I ask around if anyone had seen or heard anything, but most of the people I know are gone during the day…so no one knew anything. After a while, I let it go since I wasn’t getting anywhere with the neighbors, and had forgotten all about it. Then one night, I’m sitting on the couch, watching NCIS LA, and there is MY scene. There they all are…the cops, the guy sitting on the ground, the Chase Bank ATM and MY parking lot. MY parking lot! Wow…how stupid could I be?  How could I have not known they were shooting a scene? I guess all those trees I see from below were obstructing the cameras and lights from my view above. And then…as I’m watching the scene, they do a panoramic view from the parking lot, and there I am…there’s my little head looking out the window from across the street!

I believe I should be receiving royalties for my cameo role soon.

What's lurking in Your medicine cabinet?

Ever since I was little I was told to take my vitamin every morning. So like a good little girl, I would pop my Flintstones into my mouth after careful deliberation of whether I wanted to chew Bamm-Bamm or Pebbles. Vitamins were supposed to ward off illnesses and keep our bodies strong, so over the years I have been adding more and more to my arsenal of medications. Recently I decided to take inventory of my collection to see if any have made a significant impact on my body and mind.

Of course we all take Multiple vitamins. They should take care of our entire body. But I decided as I aged, I needed to supplement individual bodily needs. There seems to be controversy on what vitamins are helpful for, but I have my own reasons for each.

The first was my skin. I was always told Vitamin A would keep my skin free of blemishes and age spots, so every day I crack one open and rub it all over my body. I have to say, my skin feels pretty good. It feels especially good when I have someone else help me "take" my vitamin A.

Next was the Vitamin B group…to help my digestive system. I'm not so sure exactly how that one is working. Is my stomach supposed to make gurgling sounds throughout the day and bloat little by little so that I look 8 months pregnant by evening? It’s also supposed to help your stress level. Yeah…I can tell you without a doubt…that info is wrong. I think maybe the experts must have confused the B vitamin and Xanax. So I took it upon myself to substitute one for the other. Now THAT really works! I’ve never been more relaxed in my entire life.

Vitamin C seems to be the multi-purpose vitamin. Honestly? I don’t see the purpose of this one at all. “It’s important in the formation of collagen to hold skin cells together and other body tissues” Really? What medical dictionary did this come from? My skin cells and body tissue are holding together all right, just a little further south than I would like. And each day…their grip gets a little looser so that at some point, I’m afraid my skin will just slide off my body.

Strong bones and teeth are serviced by Vitamin D with Calcium. If that’s the case…maybe I am using it wrong. Am I supposed to be inserting the actual vitamin in the places where my teeth once resided? I don’t notice my bones and teeth getting or staying strong. I just notice my gum line receding quicker than men’s hair follicles.

I was advised by a trusted friend to use Ginkgo Biloba so that I could improve my memory and concentration. I was excited to use this because my memory is very selective and my concentration lasts about one nanosecond. But every afternoon when I was scheduled to take it…I would forget. (You knew that one was coming!)

I added Manganese to my diet after going through menopause. It’s supposed to aid in the production of sex hormones. I didn’t really notice much difference after a few months of taking this, therefore, I thought I would also add Rhodiola Rosea, Ginseng, Maca (Peruvian Ginseng), Horny Goat Weed, Kava, L-Arginine, DHEA and anything else I could find. I now hump my couch about 20 times a day.

I do recommend Potassium for cramping. I would get the worst leg cramps and foot cramps during the night that would bolt me out of bed in excruciating pain. For those of you who have never had a cramp…imagine someone shoving their fist up your ass as far as they can and twisting your internal organs until they can’t twist anymore. I made sure I found a cure for that one…and potassium was my salvation.

I found some expired bottles of vitamins and other medications that have been there for quite some time. I always wondered what the effects would be after 2 or 3 years past the expiration date. I thought I would experiment with some, but then I realized, that may not be the best idea if it turns out to be fatal.

I have yet to conclude if any of these vitamins and supplements actually makes a difference (except for the surefire potassium). I know one place they ALL make a difference. And that would be my bank account. I wish I knew why I spent so much money on something I’m not even sure works, and makes me gag every time I try to swallow one of those horse pills.

The Quicker Picker Upper

Feeling blue? A little down in the dumps? Need a quick pick-me-up? You may want to try the foolproof cure that never lets me down…..

A trip to CVS.

What is it about CVS that puts a smile on your face and a zing in your step? I love that place and always leave with things I absolutely do not need. The bright lights are so welcoming and say…come on in and check me out. You can always find whatever it is you need, and all those things you had no intention of ever wanting when you first came into the store.

My main reason for entering that money sucking death trap is to drop off a prescription. The dangerous choice is deciding to hang out until it’s ready instead of coming back later to pick it up.

                                                                

Attempting to sit by the pharmacy window and wait out the “15 minutes” before it’s ready (ha…when has it ever taken only 15 minutes to fill a prescription?) is next to impossible. So I slowly make my way through the aisles thinking if I go down an aisle that doesn’t have anything I like, I may make it out safely with cash still in pocket. I start with the magnifying glasses aisle. I try on at least 20 pairs looking in the miniscule mirror trying to see how I look. How do they expect you to know if you like them when you can barely see yourself in the teeny, tiny reflection? Kind of defeats the purpose of the glasses, dontcha think? And the sales tag hangs down over your eyes and nose blocking half your vision. I stand there blowing at it to get it out of my way, almost hyperventilating…but to no avail.  At least I make it out of that aisle empty handed.

Moving on to the hair accessories aisle. Well…who doesn’t need hair accessories? I sure do…even if I don’t. I better go get a basket just for a couple of things: elastics, head bands, new brush…have to have a new brush. You can never have too many brushes. Oh…and of course, a new shower cap. Ok…that should do it…in that aisle. But wait…the travel items are right there, too. I have to get some of those, only because they are so cute. I love the little mini shaving crème and hair spray. Gotta have ‘em.

I check out the nail polish aisle next. I always am up for trying a new color on my toes. And a new nail file, polish remover, cuticle pusher backer thing, and any other thingamajig I can still fit into the basket.

The make-up aisle is a killer. I have never moved on to “designer” mascara so Maybelline still has my loyalty, and for some reason they come out with a new version on a daily basis. Half the back wall of the store is filled with Maybelline mascaras and I have to try each one to see if any makes my lashes luxuriously thick and long like it promises. I know those ads don’t lie and don’t use false eyelashes in their commercials, [not at all], but I still haven’t quite figured out why my lashes don’t lengthen 3 inches when I use the same mascara as the models. I’ll buy a couple anyway…just in case one of them actually does work.

The chotchkie section is my favorite. A whole aisle of absolutely useless merchandise that will look so great sitting in my closet. Where do they come up with this crap? It’s got to be left over, unwanted junk from someone’s yard sale that they think people will scoop up when they are in panic mode looking for a gift they forgot to get and need right away. I better grab something, just in case. You never know when I will be in that position of needing a gift for someone I really don’t like.

Last stop before pick-up… the greeting card aisle. There is something about standing there reading birthday cards that makes me need to go poop. I’m not sure what it is, maybe the relaxed state I’m in, but it’s the best remedy if you are ever constipated. Go read greeting cards at CVS. Luckily it is the last stop before the pick up so I sure hope my meds are ready.  

I wait in line patiently, get up to the counter and the girl brings my meds over.  “Anything else you would like me to ring up for you?”  “Um, yes, why yes there is.” And as I empty my overflowing basket I can feel all eyes glaring at me from the people waiting in line to pick up their prescriptions.

                                                            

The tension is mounting from the crowd, as I unload my basket, item by item, while the girl behind the counter is ringing it all up.  I can hear the sighs coming from the line behind me, begging me to hurry up. The line has grown from 2 people to about 15, when suddenly the girl asks, in a voice so loud it was as if she had a microphone built into her tonsils… “Would you like the pharmacist to explain how to use your sexual arousal medication?”

                                                                        

Well, I managed not to hyperventilate in the glasses aisle but my breathing was becoming a bit labored at this point. And the rush of blood to my head felt like my blood vessels would burst at any moment. But I kept my composure and replied, “No thanks, I believe I’m well aware, as are these 15 other people now, but thank you.” I walked away with my head down and my 18 bags of goodies and once out the door…bolted for the car…only to realize I grabbed everything but the medication.

Do You Know Me?

It's shockingly surprising to me that people don't mob me on the street wanting my autograph. I've been in some widely seen TV shows and news telecasts, and published in print, yet no one seems to recognize me. It's hard to fathom.  

Prior to my spectacular television career, I had a stint in print. I was featured in two local newspapers; one while I was in elementary school…doing charity work; and the other while I was in college, protesting for the local workers. One in New York, one in Ohio, marking my path to national success.

But my real rise to stardom started back when I was a contestant on the highly touted game show...the Liars Club. It had to be the worst game show to ever have aired on national television. There were 3 celebrities and 4 contestants. The celebrities were shown an object they had to tell a story about, and the contestants had to guess who was telling the truth. I was one of those contestants. There were 4 rounds, the last being the bonus round for the most points. I won the first 3 rounds, but because I lost the bonus round...I lost the whole game. And I'm pretty happy I did. The grand prize...a trip to Acapulco...AIRFARE NOT INCLUDED. Huh?? What? I'm sorry...what was that? Airfare NOT included? What kind of prize is THAT? So they pay for the hotel? And I pay for the airfare? Yeah...I don't think so.

Second place...again...they really went all out on the gifts. $25 worth of Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil, $25 worth of Eskimo Pies (ok...that was one gift I did absolutely enjoy), and $25 of the ugliest, gaudiest, worst fitting polyester apparel I had ever seen in my entire life. And just so you know how cheap the clothing was…there were approximately 15 items that totaled the $25! Even the Salvation Army said "no thanks" when I tried to donate them.

My next foray into the entertainment world was a bit on the local news in New York. WABC was thrilled to have me recite 'Twas the Night before Christmas' on a segment of the 6 o'clock news. They gave me one whole line to say..."that shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly." I was fabulous!  

My next big starring role was on the Richard Simmons Show back in the 70’s. I’ve already shared that with many of you so I won’t be redundant. However…that was probably my real breakout role.

I did try out for Wheel of Fortune and the Newlywed Game, but was turned down. I’m assuming it was because I was already well on my way to becoming a huge celebrity, and they didn’t want me to detract from the other ‘regular’ people who would be appearing on the shows with me. Oh well, their loss.

I’m sure by now you understand why I’m so puzzled that I’m not surrounded by paparazzi. I can leave my house and people don’t stop me to take pictures with them. I can shop, eat at restaurants, see a movie…and nothing. It’s mind boggling. I suppose I should appreciate my privacy…but sometimes I just miss the adoration.

Oh…the price of not being famous. I suppose I should take advantage of it while I can.

Terror in the Dark

It was a dark and stormy night...there I was, sleeping peacefully, no one else home, when suddenly...

Ok...not really. But do you ever hear strange sounds at night and your imagination just goes wild? Usually it's nothing, but unfortunately, sometimes, they turn out to be worse than you may have ever thought.

One night when my girls were sleeping at friends' houses and I was all alone in the house, my dog started barking uncontrollably. My dog never barks, so when she does, it's not a good sign. Of course, if there actually was someone in my house, she would immediately go prancing up to them and start jumping up and licking them, welcoming them into our home. Great watch dog. So the only help she is, is as a "noise alert" dog. Anyway...she woke me up barking and my heart jumped out of my throat. I didn't hear anything at first, so I grabbed the billy club under my bed, that I inherited from my ex, and stealthily crept out the bedroom door, crouching down so no one could see me. Really? Does crouching down 3 inches really make you less obvious to someone breaking in? I was just shorter, that's all. Maybe crawling on the floor would make me less visible, but that wasn't happening. I couldn't hold the baton and navigate the floor at the same time, nor did I want to pick up any dust bunnies that may be lurking and dirty my pj's. (Not that my house isn't spotless.)

I slowly made my way down the hallway listening for any signs and looking for any shadows, while holding the club in a batting position. As I entered each room, I started swinging uncontrollably, just in case the perpetrator was going to jump out at me in the dark. The problem is, even if I did happen upon someone, what could I do? Not sure if this 110 lb. body could hold up to some 200+ lb. monster. I guess if I didn't panic, which I can't imagine not doing, the billy club COULD come in handy, smacking him where it hurts and running for my life. But I really never want that opportunity to find out.

So...no one upstairs. I then made my way downstairs, still in batting position, looking in every room down there, swinging like a crazy person. Nothing. Whew! Went to the family room and looked out the back door, turning on the outside light. Nada. Again...Whew!

I felt a little better and went back to bed. I laid there for the next hour or so in panic mode. Every noise I heard was someone trying to get in. I did the whole house check again, and again, nothing. But I suddenly did hear some scratching. I thought maybe now it was my imagination, and it was nothing, so I tried to go to sleep. But there it was again. By now, Brutie had stopped barking, realizing whatever that noise was caused no imminent danger, so she was sleeping soundly. Bitch. But I figured if she wasn't alarmed, why should I be.

I finally fell asleep, and slept the rest of the night, no sounds to be heard. I woke up safely in my own bed, no scars from the night before. I went downstairs to get a cup of coffee, then out back to clean the pool. As I'm walking to get the net to skim the leaves off the water, something catches my eye. I did a double take and there it was! At the bottom of the pool...........A dead rat! I almost puked! I ran running into the house, gagging back my vomit...and called my ex to immediately come over and remove the varmint from the bottom of the pool. So there WAS an intruder. I wasn't nuts. And it was larger than life. And I am so happy I had no idea what it was the night before. I'm not sure what I would've done had I known there was a rat scratching but I do know I wouldn't have taken on THAT by myself. That's almost worse than a burgler. Ewwwwww. I had never been more grossed out in my life.

The moral of the story is....well...there is no frickin' moral. It's just a disgusting ending to a scary beginning that has left a number of questions in my head. For instance...why did she choose MY house? My very clean, spotless, immaculate house. And more importantly...did she leave any family behind? Needless to say, the next week or so I spooned the baton at night, getting very little sleep. I also had an exterminator crawl through the vents to be sure no little babies were building a planned community in my ventilation system. I will never again dismiss any noise as nothing. I will just move out.

This little piggy

I don’t know about other parents who have late teen/early 20 something girls, but I have raised two of the biggest slobs I have ever known.  Please understand, their dad and I are kind of what you would call…clean freaks, so I’m not quite sure where they got their obsessive, compulsive piglet behavior from…but it's a total 180 of what we are.

They are extremely clean when it comes to their own personal grooming and hygiene, thank god, but I wouldn’t take one step into their bedrooms or bathroom.  Their bathroom counter is disguised as Cousin Itt. I have never seen so much hair covering an inanimate object as is, in and around, their sinks. And they could care less.  Yet…they won’t clean the hair out of their brushes because it grosses them out. HUH?  Please explain that one to me?

Sometimes I will walk into one of their rooms to open a window and it’s like walking over hot coals or broken glass, hoping I will make it to the window and back, without stepping on something that will slice open the bottom of my feet. And that’s another thing, they sleep with their windows closed and the door closed, with no ventilation in the room. Every so often, I’ll go in, in the middle of the night, and put my finger under their noses to be sure they are breathing since there’s no chance of oxygen intake. Why they haven’t suffocated yet is beyond me.

I believe they are delusional, thinking there is a “catch-all” in every spot of the house where all their crap is supposed to land, because that’s where I find all their things.  They walk in the front door, off come the shoes in the middle of the floor, and as they advance from point A to point B, off come more and more things landing and remaining wherever they’re dropped.  I’ll come home and every item they’ve had on their person is strewn everywhere.  After years of picking up after them, I decided that if it’s left anywhere but their rooms…it’s thrown into the garage. You want it…search for it. And since they seem to have never learned the art of the search and seek, their stuff pretty much sits in the garage for weeks. “Mom, have you seen my _____?”  “Nope…sure haven’t “ [‘you little slob’, she says silently to herself]

I must say, they do put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, most of the time. But if it doesn’t belong in the dishwasher, it stays in the sink until it grows mold. God forbid they actually wash a dish by hand. So I now bring any dirty dish, glass or pan up to their rooms and strategically place them around their beds. Kitchen accessories do wonders for the bedroom décor. And you know what? They do not seem to be bothered at all…which incenses me even more! I then put it on their bed so they have to notice it, and the next day, it’s back on the floor. Seriously? Walking around their rooms is reminiscent of tire drills at boot camp. You have to jump up and over things.

I decided that at this stage in the game, since they are near the point of moving into their own places, I will bite my tongue and know that there will be an end to the chaos. My greatest revenge will be visiting their homes, and letting them wait on me.  And NEVER cleaning up after myself. The problem is, once they move out and my house is picture perfect…I’ll miss those little pigpens more than I’ll want to admit.

WARNING: Cupid Bashing

Gimme a bow and arrow. I'm gonna learn archery if it kills me...just so I can lunge that arrow into every stinkin' happy heart on Valentine’s Day. Who made up Valentine’s Day anyway? Obviously someone who was in a very happy, healthy relationship. But what about the miserable, lonely, single people. All Valentine’s Day does is make the misery magnified that much more one day a year. We are surrounded by happy, happy people making their plans for that happy, happy night. Isn't that just so wonderful?

How about making a happy single's day? Then all of you blissfully happy people will get to feel like we do on Valentine’s Day. You can sit home with your other half and wonder what we are doing to celebrate being single, which would probably be the same thing we were doing on Valentine’s Day because we're single. So that would be nothing, again, and we would realize we are miserable on a second holiday of the year. Ok...strike that plan.

Someone once told me Valentine’s Day was a Hallmark holiday. Just a way for them to make tons of money. I said "Who cares...make sure you get me gifts and take me out really nicely". That was when I was in a relationship. Now I have to say I think he was right. I think they should STOP the Hallmark holiday right now. I mean...everyone has a birthday, right? But not everyone has a sweetheart. How fair is that?

Don't get me wrong. I’ve had some incredible Valentine's Days. I got engaged on one, I conceived on another (yes...I know for a fact I did...don't ask), I have gotten beautiful jewelry, and have many other happy memories. But, as of late, I don't really like that day. I do like when it falls on a weekday so that when I'm sitting at home by myself...it's not so different than any other night. I can sit in front of the TV with my tub of ice cream and fall into that mindless, reality TV chasm that I do so many other nights when it's not Valentine’s Day.

So screw cupid. Screw the happy, little couples. And let's put a ban on Valentine's Day. At least until I'm back in a relationship.

*please note...any resemblance to psycho, angry person is for blogging purposes only