Monthly Archives: March 2012

A Peeps Internet Confession

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This post is short but sweet.

I adore Peeps. I mean I really adore them.

I’m fessing up in honor of the Easter holiday and the great candy it brings.

When I was in the throes of PMS and Menopause Madness, I would not just eat a a whole ROW of Peeps in one sitting but an  ENTIRE box.

And yes, I think they are darling, but I can gobble them down without any mercy.

So now you fess up!

What is your hormonal food of hormonal foods?  You’re guaranteed safe haven on Friend for the Ride.

Recipes:  I’m pretty much a Peeps purist, but here are some recipes if you’re feeling like you want to branch out.

And here are some more.

P.S.  Now that my hormones feel calmer, I’m down to two Peeps at a time. My goal is to be able to eat just one, but life is awfully short (for me and the Peeps.)

Does a Friend Tell a Friend She’s Got a Chin Hair?

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This is one of those TMI kind of posts, a post that when I was thirty-five, I had no clue I would dare write.  Of course when I was thirty-five, I had no clue about the super yucko stuff that was going to happen to me in menopause.  I also had no clue what a blog was.  (Nobody did, yet, according to this fun history on wiki.)

That leads us to the subject of the post:  CHIN HAIR.

I have always liked the story of “The Three Billy Goats Gruff.”  I love the line, “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” and as a little girl, I got a kick out of all that trip trapping over bridges.  And who doesn’t get some kicks out of hating a big bad troll?  (A REAL troll, not an Internet sort of bad person.)

But I didn’t know I would turn into a billy goat!

And the Big Bad Menopause Troll throws you the double whammy that after you get those long, fine hairs cascading off your chin, you can’t see them without a magnifying glass.

So that brings us to this post’s title:   Does a Friend Tell a Friend She’s Got a Chin Hair?

This happened to me.  I was at first mortified.

But on reflection, I was grateful.

So I say, “Yes.”

What do you say?

Photo above is Paul Galdone’s wonderful version of The Three Billy Goats Gruff.

Photo below shows some acceptable chin hairs, because this guy is a real and true billy goat, by the hairs of his chinny, chin, chin.

PS:  My friend Kay has just reminded me that the expression “chinny, chin, chin” is from “The Three Little Pigs” NOT “The Billy Goat’s Gruff.”  My literary bad!

Grandma by Any Other Name Will Sound as Sweet

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The baby above, one of my babies, is having a baby.

Grandma.

Me.

Yes!

I’d love to say something profound about grandmothering.

But although I’m the mother of two girls, I don’t know beans about being a GRANDMOTHER.

Yet.

Everyone asks what I want to be called.

Anything short of  “Hey You” will do.

Well, actually, if the baby wants to call me  “Hey You, ” that might just be okay.

After all, this is my grandchild!

The only thing I really know about grandmothering, thus far, is that the baby, due August 31, will not be wearing Katherine’s pretty white dress, saved oh so many years

Because…

HOW FUN!

BTW, advice is welcome!  I’ve heard we’re not supposed to offer advice to the parents, but you can send me a whole bassinetful. Thanks!

Calories: A Mystery Unclothed

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I knew it!  I knew it!  I knew it!

I’ve never believed in calories.  How could something so small and compact as a square of fudge cause you to gain weight?  It makes complete sense to me that calories don’t come from food at all.  And we all know that bad stuff lurks in closets:  moths, the boogeyman, silverfish, dust bunnies.

How do we rid our closets of these evil stitching calories?  How do we protect our clothes from the terrors of shrinking?

Cliff and I haven’t had an easy time eliminating moths from the closets of this old house.  (We don’t like to use insecticides, and moth balls are only about 85% effective.)

At least you can see a moth. I have never SEEN a calorie.  Have you?  And dust bunnies, once captured, don’t put up much of a fight.  These tiny calorie creatures have got to be feisty.  They even attacked my sainted wedding dress.

Can I coax them out with trickery?   “Calories, follow me.  I’ll take you to the mall and let you stitch some really fancy clothes.  Better yet, we’ll fly to NYC, and I’ll release you in the store where they film Say Yes to the Dress.

Can I blast them to smithereens by playing “It’s a Small World” twenty-four seven?

Can I choke them out with bad smells?  The kitty litter pan or burned popcorn?

Can I bore them to pieces by reading aloud my master’s thesis (although my mom, the only person to read it besides the professor, thought it was wonderful).

Find a natural predator?  An anteater, maybe, or those bright green lizards that skitter across my porch?

I’ll come up with a plan, and then my clothes will stop shrinking.  Cowabunga!

Of course, I’ll be glad to share it on Friend for the Ride!

Graphic:  Thanks to That’s What That Means for announcing this important discovery.  Science continues to amaze me as we uncover the complexities of the universe.