A Glitter E. Yaynus Salsa Dance

I look just like this when I'm dancing in my dreams!

Yesterday I made a trek to the big city. The why of the trip is not so important, but it was a day of smiles, food and salsa dancing. I hadn’t danced salsa in about a year since the tiny hamlet where I reside is not a hotbed of salsa dancing or anything else. I wasn’t sure how much I remembered, but apparently it is quite like riding a bicycle and it all came back once I  began to dance.

It was late when I got home, but I was still wired from the dancing and the drive and possibly the amount of caffeine I had ingested read on >>

Steal These Awesome Awards

During my morning rounds yesterday, and no I’m not a doctor or a doctor in training, but I do have a quasi routine that I follow when I check my email which goes something like open the mail program, quickly delete the junk and then read the other stuff, I was struck by inspiration or rather I was once again inspired to steal someone else’s idea.

There are oodles of awards floating around these parts and occasionally they land on my blog. Sometimes they land on other blogs. No one seems read on

Wrapping Is The Right Thing To Do

My holiday decorations!

Whew! I finally finished putting up the Christmas decorations. It took about three minutes, or maybe two, but it felt like five. I opened a drawer, removed two holiday pot holders and placed them on the counter next to the stove. I stood there admiring the festive touch, turned around and nearly tripped over the open drawer. I always forget to close them.

I know what you’re thinking, “What took so long?” You’re right. The decorating should have only taken one minute, but I had to dig through the Halloween pot holders to get to the Christmas pot holders, so that slowed me down.

I’m about two-thirds done with addressing the Christmas cards which is about five-eighths farther along than I was yesterday. The math may not be correct, and I wouldn’t have mentioned math at all except I know a few of my readers live for fractions.

I won’t be addressing any more Christmas cards this week as I have better things to do. Namely, I’m going camping tomorrow and won’t be back until Sunday or Monday. I won’t know until then. So if you don’t get a Christmas card this week, it’s because you are at the bottom of my list alphabetically speaking or numerically speaking. There is no method to the madness that is my Christmas card list.

I’m also quite pleased to proclaim that I completed all of my holiday baking today. I know, I know – decorating and baking all in one morning, and yet I’m hardly ever mistaken for Martha Stewart. My holiday baking consisted of one pan of brownies. The brownies are for the camping trip, but since there is some talk of a holiday in the coming days, I’m also counting this morning’s kitchen adventure as holiday baking.

My Christmas shopping is also done, or it would be done if I did any, shopping that is, but I don’t. Shocking, I know. Several years ago, I stepped away from the commercialized consumer driven frenzy that is December. I advised family and friends that I had enough stuff, didn’t need more stuff, and would prefer spending time with them, sharing a meal or drinks or camping, to finding room for more stuff.

It’s great! Okay, it was a little weird that first year. No, it was very weird not opening anything on Christmas Day. So now I wrap empty boxes so I can rip them open on Christmas Day. It’s my new holiday tradition.

So to wrap this up, but not in an empty box, because those boxes are already wrapped, I’m going to need one of those holiday gift bags. I loathe those holiday gift bags. That’s not wrapping, that’s placing objects in a bag. There’s no ripping involved when you’re handed one of those gift bags. The joy of gift opening lies in the ripping of the wrapping paper. So use paper, people, and spread the wrapping ripping joy!

Dissecting a Crazy Aunt

I recently read H.E. Ellis’ blog “New England Dissected” where she equated New England’s states to family members. This inspired Brainrants to continue this metaphor with his post “The Left Coast Dissected.” If you’re not reading these blogs, you should be. They are brilliant, often funny and always entertaining. They are also inspiring. They inspired me to offer my two cents about another part of the country.

I don’t feel that I can do justice to my neighboring states, but as one of those rare birds, a Florida native, I can certainly continue the thread and offer up my home state for your enjoyment.

Every family has a Fredo, but Florida is not this family’s Fredo. She’s more like your crazy Aunt Helen. You often think you should lock her up and throw away the key, but then where would you take your kids on summer vacation? They love to visit  Aunt Florida. So you tell yourself that she is just a little bit daft and all those crazy things she does make for interesting dinner conversation. However, she’s not slightly daft. Aunt Florida is suffering from full blown multiple personality disorder.

Sometimes Ernesto makes an appearance. He’s a Cuban exile who arrived in the 60s and plans on going back as soon as Castro takes his leave. In the meantime, he prefers Spanish to English and runs a little restaurant that serves black beans, arroz con pollo, guava pastries and a killer cup of coffee that he calls a cortadito.

Lou is a senior citizen who likes to take his Cadillac out for a spin but never exceeds 45 mph even while driving in the left lane of the interstate. He also likes to make right hand turns from the left lane and occasionally remembers to turn on his turn signal. When not on the golf course, he roams through his gated community looking for the smallest infractions that he can report to the board of the homeowners’ association. His wife, Betty, lives for bingo.

Bubba, the cracker and consummate outdoorsman, sticks to the interior. He loves to fish and hunt. Even though he has a small arsenal of guns, he likes the challenge of bowhunting. He goes to church every Sunday morning and spends Sunday afternoons watching Nascar races on TV. He also has a concealed weapons permit, so don’t cut him off in traffic.

George, the Gator fan, eats, sleeps and breathes Gator football. He schedules fall Saturdays around Gator games and always gets home in time for kickoff. He watches every minute of every game even when the Gators are ahead by 70 points. He has the Gator license plate, Gator baseball cap, Gator shirt and Gator cozy for his can of Bud Light. He barely acknowledges that there are other colleges in the state. He didn’t matriculate through the university, but he bleeds Gator orange and blue.

Candy is a twenty something with a kick ass body. Despite living close to a beach, she perfects her tan in a tanning salon. She makes her living in the lap dance capital of the world doing exactly that. She can’t wait for next year when the Republican Convention comes to town.

With all these personalities vying for attention, it’s a wonder that Aunt Florida makes it to the polls to vote and not surprising that she barely has the strength to punch the ballot so that no chads are left hanging.

On the Highway to Fashion Hell

A couple of weeks ago, I read a freshly pressed blog about fashion don’ts for women over 50. Now, I’m a woman over 50, so I read this with great interest. I always like to know what fashion sins I’m committing.

I don’t recall the title of the post or the blogger’s name because I am over 50 and those memory brain farts occur far more often than when I was under 50. I do recall that the blogger had recently read an AARP article about the same thing. I couldn’t find the article online, so it must have appeared in their magazine or I’m not the adept internet surfer that I think I am. I don’t get the AARP magazine even though I’m in their target demographic so I couldn’t read the original article.

I can’t recall all the fashion don’ts, but a few of them stuck with me and have been gnawing at me. I’m breaking some of them and may be headed to fashion hell.

Mini Skirts. At first blush, this seems to be a no brainer. Mini skirts are most assuredly the province of much younger women. However, if you are a single woman over 50 who occasionally or regularly enjoys the company of a boy toy (his term, I prefer stud muffin) with a penchant for role playing, you’re going to need a mini skirt. Just saying.

Having said that, if you are indeed in the market for a mini skirt, but shudder at the thought of shopping in one of those oh so trendy boutiques aimed at twenty somethings, you’re in luck.  Some of those swimsuit coverups or sarongs will work quite nicely and you may even have one tucked away in a drawer. Inexpensive Halloween costumes can also save the day, or night.  Again, just saying.

Leggings.  Whether you should wear leggings is more a matter of body type than age.  Lycra and spandex are not every body’s friends. Some bodies should never be ensconced in this material.  I am on the small side though I do have what my Miami friends refer to as a Cuban girl’s ass. I was told (by a Cuban man) that this is a compliment. So as an over 50 woman with a Cuban girl’s ass, it is difficult to pull off the leggings look. It would require just the right top, which I don’t own. This is one fashion sin I won’t be committing anytime soon.

Tank Tops or Anything Sleeveless. This wasn’t in the blog post, but it was quite the topic of conversation in the comments section with many women (some in their forties) saying they never go sleeveless. Clearly, these women have never had a hot flash. I live in sundresses and tank tops. I pair the tank tops with shorts or skirts because the grocery store would probably frown on me wandering the aisles dressed only in a tank top. The stud muffin would love it. I plan on rocking the sleeveless look as long as I can, or at least until the hot flashes end.

You may be afraid to go sleeveless because you are in the early or late stages of Lady Bird Johnson Syndrome. As you may recall, Lady Bird Johnson was the wife of President Johnson. She was middle aged and was fond of cap sleeved dresses. The television news would often show her visiting places while wearing a cap sleeved dress. She would stick out her arm to point at something and her flabby upper arm would jiggle noticeably. That jiggly upper arm is the only symptom of Lady Bird Johnson Syndrome.

If you are suffering from this malady, I have two words for you: push-ups and tricep dips. Okay, that was more than two words, but those words describe two exercises which require no special equipment to perform.  I’m not a fitness trainer, so I won’t explain how to do them. I did read many years ago that when you begin a strength training regimen, the upper arms are the first place you will notice results. With a little bit of effort, you can be sporting the sleeveless look in no time.

So will role playing in a mini skirt or living in tank tops send me down the highway to fashion hell? Don’t know and don’t care, but if my Cuban girl’s ass does wind up there, at least my arms will be nicely toned.