Tuesday, December 30, 2008 - Survived Birthday #50

Nation - my long suffering family has once again managed to surprise me. While I did know that we'd be going to dinner (4-cheese pasta at Cheesecake Factory), I had asked for my favorite whipped cream cake from my ancient hometown (Newark, NJ) bakery "Royal Cake Box", which has since changed it's name to Supreme Bakery located to West Orange, NJ - and I did not see it in the icebox when I got home. I asked my husband did he happen to pick up the cake for me? "Why?" he asked. "Because I don't see it in the 'fridge" I answered. "I thought we were having cheesecake", he said. "Yes, but, since we had talked about the cake, I thought you guys may have picked one up" I responded. But then thought no more about it.

We had dinner, and took cheesecake slices to go. Went to bookstore next door and picked up #6 in my current Outlander series: "A Breath of Snow and Ashes" and went home. Then in the driveway the husband remembers his prescription, "here go pick it up" he said to me. "I'll wait for you to come with me" I say. We go in. My daughter is telling me I'm underfoot, get away from her; she was trying to stuff the cheesecake slices in thr 'fridge with the leftovers. So I went to the bathroom.

When I came out, house in total darkness. My husband, daughter and her boyfriend are in the kitchen singing "Happy Birthday" while my whipped cream cake, with the "5" and "0" candles, along with a giant "The Big 5-0" balloon are in the dining room! I was totally surprised. Also, got a pair of nice warm Uggs Lug-soled clogs in chocolate (of course)!



Cake was in the 'fridge the whole time (damn my eyes). I'd never get through anything without those guys at home! They are the reason I was born.

Happy birthday to me.

Sunday, December 28, 2008 - On the Edge of the Precipice

Nation - Tomorrow is my 50th birthday. I'm totally not anticipating this at all. My parents both died in their fifties: mom at 53, dad at 58. While 2 years ago, I was in the best fitness condition of my life, I am now perched on the edge of a diabetic coma: all I ever want to eat is sugar. I am seeing an endocrinologist and she is concerned about some pancreatic reading. If only I felt like exercising, I know 90% of my issues would dissipate. Menopause is still with me, as are the 17 days periods.

I have been plagued with nightmares of late as well. There was a bear chasing me, and it was at the apartment building I grew up in as a kid. I managed to escape but then remembered that the cats were in the apartment, so I went back to get them. I rescued them, which included one that died 7 years ago, and I heard the bear growling though the door and coming down the stairs after us. There was a couple of mentions of bears in the books I'm reading, however, bears have been in my dreams for over a year. I think they are manifestations of my hormone imbalance.

Speaking of hormone imbalances, I have been pornstar horny over the past 2 weeks; before, during, and after my period ended. I've been driving the husband nuts, and now he's telling me to leave him alone. Why couldn't I have been 1/2 this demanding while I was in my 30s? Again, just me being dumb. It sucks not having my mom to ask questions about getting fucking old. I know I could read forever articles and books on the internet, but I think you'd be better off with some info within your gene pool.

More stuff that irritates: free transport and surgery for foreign kids, whether they are war victims or born deformed. In 2007, my brother died of long treatable sepsis due to fucking hernia in a New Jersey hospital, and no one wanted to treat him because of state disability, yet bleeding hearts (of which I consider myself a liberal as well) will get doctors to perform free medical care and surgery on kids that go back to a cesspool of a third world country. If I hear one more "feel good story", ...

Soon as the husband goes to take his nap, I'll be back to page 490 in my book replacing Claire with myself as Jamie stands her up against a brick wall in the barn and holds her neck down to watch his cock slam her. Wonder if this is adding to my hormonal state...

Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - countdown to Christmas

Nation - I can't believe it's been almost 3 weeks since my last entry. I have been reading the most fascinating and gripping series of books into which I have ever had the intense pleasure of delving. "Outlander" by Diana Gabaldon is a series of 6 books (soon to be 7 in Spring 2009) about a nurse from 1947 who, through no fault of her own, falls through a circle of standing stones in Inverness, Scotland and back in time to 1743 just prior to the Rising, when Charles Stuart attempted to bloody force his way back onto the throne. It's a "historic romance" I like to say, as it can be found factual from a historic standpoint, there is plenty of extremely descriptive sex between this lady and her eternal love, who she lovingly refers to as her "wooly mammoth". The SIL and her husband turned me on to these books in September, but I didn't start reading til almost Halloween, but haven't stopped since!! I'm on #5!

Back to the original idea behind my blog - Graying Gracefully. Here is me today (ignore my crepe-y neck):
Now it seems my hair isn't growing nearly as quickly as it did when it was longer. I so want the yellow blond out; now it's taking forever. People who have seen me in both styles love the shorter cut - telling me I'm brave. Hope that's not a euphanism for ugly.

Sunday, December 7, 2008 - Good Memories

Nation...I never discussed the visit to the family compound for Thanksgiving, but first I need to tell you about something closer to home.

While driving home from work on Friday (5th), I was listening to holiday music and really feeling the loss of Christopher. We have again decided this year to forego a decorated inside tree, and concentrate on smaller decorations (part from loss of spirit, but more for ease of cleanup.) Coming down my street, my cd player had already started playing a 1950's version of Frank Sinatra singing "Let It Snow!" It's very big bandish and great. It was about 4:30 and most of my neighbors' lights had already timed on, but then I saw lights all over my own little house! The front of the house and gargage was lit, my 7 little christmas trees lined and lit my curving front walk, and my 2 little penguins were lit and tipping their hats on the front lawn. Strung around the front door and draping over my new front railings was my special-order garland of "frozen ice" lights. In the center of it all was my beloved and long-suffering husband, Willie, tangled in about 1000' of extension cords and animated-ly waving like a slow-operating plug-in figure. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and quite unexpected! I immediately felt my heart swell and started crying! I'm crying now as I remember the scene. Willie and I have stupid problems between us, like why we can't hear each other from room to room, or misunderstanding statements each other make. He is the most supportive man (when he allows himself to be) I have ever known, and I am so thoroughly grateful that we have each other.

I'll be brief on Thanksgiving because my elbow is screaming today (probably due in part to the decorating I did alone yesterday at my job. Drag the tree from storage in the building, set it up, strung the lights, ornaments, garland...then there were the animated reindeers. I'll publish photos this week)

Thanksgiving Day drive to the compound was quick and uneventful (I drove with Willie; my daughter and her boyfriend in her car separately) We drove straight to my middle niece's house as she was hosting with her husband and the precious new baby. My SIL and nephew's mom, Elaine, were cooking in the kitchen. It was iconic: in the kitchen of a 100-year-old Victorian on Thanksgiving Day! What else do you need for a Norman Rockwell painting? "Where's the antagonist; where's the drama?" as Martin Scorsese says on the American Express commercial. Well, the antagonist arrived: Propagrampa. Unfortunately, Elaine (who in her late 60's probably, is vocal, extremely well-read, and liberal) made the mistake of innocently asking Propa-G "so what did you think of the election?" From the kitchen, I heard Propa-G launch full-volume into a tirade previously unheard in the little hamlet. The SIL and I were yelling from the kitchen to stop, but it was like we weren't even there. My niece stepped in after Propa-G's comment of "Obama is no better than Adolph Hitler." All through his speech, the FIL kept his legs crossed as well as his arms across his chest, absolutely closed to any opinion or words except his own. After that exchange, it got alot better and dinner was out of this world. We could have eaten fast food, and I still would have enjoyed the company just as much. My SIL and I ventured out at around 11AM on "Black Friday" and found the local malls extremely easy to navigate. On Saturday, we (me, Willie, the SIL, her husband, the niece and her husband) all drove to the coast and had a fantastic lunch at a local brewery. I had my first taste of mulled cider (yum-o), and then we all had Starbucks and shopped in an extremely quaint and wonderful Main Street of town, complete with gaslights and brick sidewalks. Very New England. My heart breaks when I have to leave.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008 - Where the hell is the fuckin' chicken salad??

Before I say anything, let me state absolutely that I believe in a condition further to be known as "Menopause Hurricane" and I must have been suffering it's effects on the day in question.

Nation...I am sure you are all aware, as am I, of the sorry state of customer service in the retail industry. So very few retail employees are actually willing to assist you with what you need; they want to just spit an answer and get you out of there.

Here's my situation: Tuesday night, 7PM, at my local Costco. My prize: Cape Cod Chicken Salad (take my word for it; it's Thanksgiving on a lettuce leaf.) It's not in it's regular (and still tagged) spot on the refrigerated shelf. I look for a happy employee in a red vest to ask for assistance. To the employee I found I related my story of not finding the CCCS where it is kept, and I was wondering if maybe they placed it elsewhere to allow space for the Hombre Grande Nacho Tubs. He didn't bat an eye, never left the spot he was standing, and said: if it's not out there, we don't have any. "How do you know?" I asked, already ticked, "the tag is still on the shelf." He says, "Oh, that's a very popular item. When we put it out, it sells quick." (First of all...that's a lie. It has always been on the shelf and has never been in need of restocking. Fuckin' lazy ass) "Fine, when will you be getting more delivered?" He replies, "you'll have to ask up front."

Rewind to November 8th. I was again at Costco, looking for CCCS. I was able to wrangle a very helpful employee who looked all over the store and did find the product, however, it was buried in a storage refrigerator. Could I come back tomorrow, and he'd make sure they put some out overnight; there were 109 pieces in-house per the Inventory system. I assured him I would, and I did, and happily went home with 2 containers to last me through Thanksgiving.

Now, back to last Tuesday. I went (more like stormed) "up front". I started my story again, as I didn't want the front-end assistant to know about the guy I had already talked to. She looks up the product on the Inventory system. There are 53 pieces in house. WHERE IS MY FUCKIN' CCCS? Told her I made a special trip for it (which was true) and could someone look around for me? She picks up the phone to call back there, BUT - lo and behold - who comes up front at that moment but the lazy ass I had already spoken to. "John", she calls to him, "are you on break? I need you to find some CCCS." He says, "There is none. I looked." NOW I'M REALLY FURIOUS. I said to her, "He looked on the same shelf I looked on." So she says, "Inventory shows 53 pieces." He answers, "Well, there's probably a problem with inventory." She looks at me, blankly. I ask, "Are you telling me that when each container is purchased it does not get subtracted from the total of pieces?" He jumps in, "They entered more than they received." I said "by 53 pieces??" It was obvious she was not going to be of any help to me. So I asked when more would be delivered. She says, "Well, it's an active item. We get trucks in every day." Then she smiles, this huge toothy grin, as if to say "This conversation is over" almost robotic (like a Stepford wife).

I went back last night, Thursday, and not finding my f'ing CCCS, found an employee willing to dig around and actually use the Inventory system (imagine!) on his own (I didn't have to go "up front"). There are still 53 pieces in house, but he was willing to note it on a receiving sheet to have it returned to the shelf where the tag still hangs, in front of the Hombre Grande tub of Nacho dip.