Lucie attends Miss Betsy’s Second (and last) Yoga Class!

All righty, People!

I attended my second session of Miss Betsy’s Gentle Yoga Class for Seniors this morning and Miss B. tells us that we need to put our right foot up behind our back, twist our body around to the left while gently flexing our muscles and put our hands in front of us in a prayer formation, pointing upward to the ceiling while simultaneously reminding us to take a deep cleansing breath as we gently push the air from our lungs and to remember:

“We are one with our bodies and the universe. And the floor (that my half inch mat is on) is Mother Earth.”

“Just listen to the music,” she gently continues, “and become one with your Earth Mother.”

Un hun,” I’m saying under my breath while  trying to gently untangle my size 9 foot from my butt,

Mother’sfeeling a tad hard on my delicate, ample-sized hinny right now, and my half inch yogi pad is as useless as tits on a bull.”

But I’m game. Let me go with this.

 As I’m looking around the room at everyone attentively and lithely executing this “pretzel position,” I’m thinking,

“Oh Sweet Jesus! I don’t know if Mother Earth and I are going be bonding today, but I could be wrong.”

I think Miss Betsy’s been partaking a little too much of the ole’ Maui-wowie before class, but what do I know? She’s certainly quite supple in her ability to bend her body in all sorts of positions and she doesn’t seem overly concerned with the fact that I’m knotted up into a human pretzel!

I attentively continue listening to Miss Betsy and am really trying to breathe deeply, but every time I went to breathe in, I started coughing uncontrollably from my neighbor’s overwhelming perfume fragrance; when Miss Eau-DE-Lovely herself casually looks over at me and innocently says,

“Dear, that cough of yours doesn’t sound too good. Are you feeling o.k.?”

Now I’m thinking that I’m in another one of those “lose/lose scenarios” that I seem to be in a lot lately, where I can’t be totally honest with this woman, although I’d love to educate her on the fine art of taking a morning shower with simple soap and water (minus the floral arrangement!), but I don’t want to offend one of Miss Betsy’s regulars, don’t cha know; so I look at her (with teary eyes and all) and say (in between bouts of uncontrollable coughing!),

“I must be having an allergic reaction to someone’s perfume that they’re wearing. I’m a light weight with most perfumes and scents.”

Without missing a “yogi beat”, she adroitly goes into Miss Betsy’s “prayer formation stance”, impassively looks over at me and unwittingly says,

“I know! Isn’t it terrible how thoughtless people can be when they come to exercise class?”

“Yep,” I’m thinking to myself, “Me thinks Miss Betsy’s Yoga Class for Seniors, session two, is now over and is more than likely my LAST session!”

I had to leave before “cooling down,” so I could continue to breathe, and now here I sit, inappropriately cooling down; muscles in spasms, a throbbing head-ache and not exactly sure whether my dog’s still walkin’ or standin’ in an upward position?

(But frankly, I don’t care!)

Yes siree Bob! I’m thinkin’ I’d best be working on a another way to get rid of my Buddha belly, ‘cuz I could be wrong, but I don’t think Miss Betsy’s Yoga class is too healthy for me!

Namaste, Peoples!!!

Now go out and do something totally silly for yourself today! Who knows? Your silliness just may unwittingly bring a smile to someone’s otherwise heavy heart….

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Day 1 of Miss Betsy’s Gentle Yoga Class

For the past 15 or so years my family, friends, medical personnel, etc. have been trying to wheedle me into a yoga class to help me manage my daily pain.

Medication does not always help me, so I thought, “What the heck, I’ll try it!”

I solicit my friends’ advice and they suggest the gentle yoga class with Miss Betsy at our local Senior Center. It’s within my budget, close to home and my buddy, Lou, goes there.

Perfect, right???

OK, so on Sunday, I’m all jazzed and getting ready for my “new class”: Got my yoga mat (The Princess tells me to “lose the extra camping mat that I took out or I’ll look like a TOTAL newbie on my first day!”), got my outfit picked out (I don’t wanna look like a total DWEEB in front of “Miss Betsy and the other Yogees”), put my water bottle on the counter so I wouldn’t forget it – and EVEN washed my car! (You never know who you’re gonna run into at the Senior Center! And my windshield was so dusty that I’ve been thinking lately that I should get my eyes checked for cataracts!)

 

So any-way, I fortified myself with oatmeal that morning (even put in a little flax seed with cinnamon for that “extra something special for energy”) – meticulously bandaged my foot (to protect my newly acquired bone spur that I developed trying to get my Buddha belly under control by walking every day) – ironed my outfit (as a newbie, I don’t wanna be rolling around a dirty floor with wrinkly clothes); put on extra deodorant and powder and took an extra shot of mouthwash (lest I offend anyone with some “funky odors” in my first-ever Yoga class!): and out the door I went with the anticipation of a 5-year-old on her first day of school.

My buddy, Lou, graciously brings me to the Center (despite the fact that SHE, herself, cannot go to class that day), shows me around and kindly introduces me to some of the ladies.

After all the introductions, Lou graciously takes her leave and I start to unfold my mat on the floor while chatting with one of the participants.

“Yes,” she reassures me, “this is a good class for beginners. You’ll do fine with Miss Betsy. She’s really good with new people and is just an all-around considerate yoga instructor.”

Well, long story short: After hanging around for 20 minutes and shooting the breeze with Lily (our local retired librarian) and some of the other yogee’s, it turned out that Miss Betsy was a “no show”!

So, I watched the ladies start to methodically roll up their yoga mats and quietly file out the door and I’m thinking, “Damn! Does anybody know if Miss Betsy’s O.K.?”

“Uh, hullo people! Ya think someone should call her and find out if she’s sick or possibly road kill some place between here and her home?”

“No? O.K.”

“Guess I won’t be needin’ my yoga mat this morning (or for that matter that extra shot of deodorant I put on.)”

Geesch.

I find out the next week that Miss Considerate herself had an appointment that morning and forgot to get emails out to everyone!

Swell.

So here I sit on Monday morning with clean, ironed clothes, brushed teeth, a sparkly clean car and smellin’ fresh as a Spring daisy but with no-where to go!

Bummer.

Such is life in my shoes.  Have a great day, Peoples! And remember: keep your clothes ironed, your teeth brushed and never leave the house without clean undies!

My Mom always told me that “in case I got into an accident”. Never made sense to me, so I asked her one day, “Mom, if I get into an accident, don’t ‘cha think that I’m going to end up with soiled undies, anyway?”

 

Mom, not missing a beat, retorted, “Lucie, that’s what MY MOTHER always told ME and now I’m telling YOU! Stop questioning generations of wisdom and get outta here.”

Catch ya next Tuesday, People! And don’t be messing with your Momma’s wisdom!!! (God forbid, you should catch yourself repeating such a cliché to future generations.)

Lucie and the Dental Drool

OK, I go to the Dentist this morning, so he can finish up my “dental work.”

 

And I tell him, “I’m in the midst of a major thyroiditis flare-up, so just be aware.”

 

“OK,” says he and administers enough pain medication to put down a large COW!

 

(How do I know this, you want to know?! Well, it’s been 4 hours and I’m still having difficulty breathing through my right nostril and have no idea where my lips are — or for that matter, where my tongue is in relationship to the roof of my mouth!)

 

Under normal circumstances, this “extra numbness” wouldn’t really be too bothersome because I’d rather have the “extra pain relief,” than actual “PAIN.”

 

But you see, I had to do a million and one errands today, because I have “Curly” of “The 3 Stooges Plumbing Co.” coming over tomorrow, and I don’t have time to do errands any other day this week!

 

So, I take me and my numb lips on over to our local Costco and as I’m pushin’ my cart around, I’m thinkin’ to myself:

 

“Ya know, God has a way of taking care of you. He probably didn’t want you to be shopping tomorrow, which is the day before a major holiday. This is good. Yes, this has total potential for being a good day. Just embrace it and get into a better frame of mind, OK?”

 

“Yep!”

 

That’s what I’m telling myself as I circle the refrigeration section of the store for the fourth time!

 

By this point, I’m developing freezer burn on my thighs from passing the dairy section so many times and I’m thinkin’:

 

“This is ridiculous! Where in Sam Hill are the hotdogs?”

 

“Ah, be still my little heart. Me thinks I spot a helpful Costco employee over in the detergent aisle!”

 

I walk over and ask Mr. Costco himself. Surely he’ll know. He looks to be a bright young man.

 

“Young man, could you please tell me where I’d find the hotdogs?”, I query.

 

He slowly stops what he’s doing, lowers his head, eyes me from head to toe over the rims of his glasses and smugly informs me,

 

“Ma’am, you might wanna try the refrigeration aisle for hotdogs. This is the detergent aisle.”

 

OMG!

 

All I could think of at the time is the comedienne Jeanne Robertson’s comment:

 

“Have you ever wanted to take a young person’s head, put it between your hands, look them square in the face and YELL: Are you in there?! Seriously, Are you in there?!!”

 

(For those of you that have seen her on YOU TUBE, you’ll remember the line. For those of you who haven’t heard of her, You don’t know what you’re missing! Look her up!)

 

To make a short story even longer, I eventually find the hotdogs (And no, People, I don’t usually eat hotdogs, but it was the 4th of July, don’t ‘cha know) and I’m driving outta the parking lot thinking to myself:

 

“What the shit?! Do I look like I’m learning-impaired?!”

 

“My God! I’m old, but not dead yet!”

 

I then catch a look at myself in the rear view mirror and notice what I think is a perspiration stain on the front of my shirt.

 

And then it slowly dawns on me:

 

Oh…My…God! That’s DROOL!!

 

DROOL! (a.k.a dental goop from the caverns of my mouth!! Yuck!)

 

The kid probably took one look at me and thought I was a bonafide member of our local “Over the Hill Retirement Community.

 

Lord! Lord! Lord! How I miss my mind!

 

People, don’t be drooling on yourself! (at least not in public!)

 

I’ll catch ya next week for another adventure living “Life from MY Shoes”!

 

 

 

 

 

).

Good Morning, Peoples!

Good morning, Peoples!

So, I’m standing here at the crack of dawn with my hair looking like Lady Gaga herself, yawning with morning breath from last night’s garlic chicken, freezing my ample-sized butt off, and asking myself,

“What the heck are you doing outta bed, for Chriminy Sakes?”

“It’s dark, it’s cold, and you’re retired! Go back to your warm, comfy bed, Woman! And let the day start without you! Last night’s dishes will wait, ya know? It’s not like you’ve gotta be anyplace this morning, for Pete’s sakes!”

But no, not me!

I gotta get up with the birds and my howling Siamese, and start washing last night’s dishes!

So, I’m standing at the sink, intently scrubbing the caked-on garlic goop outta the pan with the water running, telling Boo to shut da hell up and go eat her food that I just put together (Did I tell you, People, that my cat Boo, has something called “malabsorption syndrome” and needs a specially prepared menu every day? No? Not yet? Hm…well, that’s a story for another day. Anyway, forgive me. I digress.)

I’m washing up some dishes and trying (not too successfully, mind you!) to ignore Boo’s caterwauling when I hear the Princess mumbling something or other while she’s brushing her teeth with her electric toothbrush.

Being hearing impaired and all (and going deaf with an obnoxious, howling cat), I don’t hear her. So, I just continue washing the dishes.

Then all of a sudden, her tiny Princess head shoots out from the bathroom door and yells,

“Lucie! For God’s sakes! Will you answer me?! I can’t stand it when you ignore me like that, ya know? Drives me nuts! Could you PAH-LEEZE listen to me once in awhile?!!!!”

Now for those of you in relationships (either past or present), you know that no matter how I answer that question, I’m gonna lose.

So I’m thinkin’ to myself, “Ya know, I could be wrong, but I think I’m in one of those lose/lose scenarios here.”

I definitely feel like drowning Boo right now, and I think before I get to the point where I wanna drown the Princess, too, I’d better just “take one for the team,” agree with her politely (and ever so subserviently), apologize, and go back to bed.

So, I take a deep, cleansing breath (one that even Miss Betsy of my gentle yoga class would be proud of!), glance at her over my Ben Franklin eye specs and calmly say, “You know, Sweetie ─ you’re right! You’re definitely right. I need to listen to you more often. I’m sorry.”

The humble apology, however, does nothing but add fuel to her displeasure with me, and she irritably responds,

“Ya know, Lucie,” she says between clenched teeth, “I hate it when you’re sarcastic! I really hate it! It’s sooo not becoming, ya know?”

Before I can even so much as say one word in response, she scoots back into the bathroom and continues brushing her teeth and completing her morning cleaning ritual.

By this time, Boo has discovered that today’s menu offering is actually palatable and has hungrily started to chow down, when Molly (cat #2) comes meowing out of my bedroom for her specially prepared diet and medications (Did I tell you, people, that Molly has urinary problems and also needs special foods and medications? No? Not yet? Hm…guess that’s also a story for another day, eh??)

So, I start to meticulously prepare Molly’s special menu. (Ask me someday to tell you how I once took one of Molly’s drugs and almost gave Molly MY drug!!! I scratched myself raw for most of the day and swore I saw fleas hopping around on my arms! But forgive me; once again, I digress!). I then notice that the Princess has finished her morning grooming rituals and is heading out the door on her way to work, when she suddenly stops and starts kissing and lavishing Boo (who has now coyly perched herself on the arm of the couch) with all kinds of lovin’ and hugs.

After a few minutes of smothering Boo with an abundance of lovin’, she inadvertently catches a glimpse of me and suddenly realizes: Oh, that’s right. I have a partner. Maybe I’ll acknowledge her before I go to work, too!

“So,” she queries, “What’s on your busy agenda for today, Hun?”

She’s been asking me this question every day since I retired. I don’t know why, but I rarely answer her with a genuine response. Guess it’s one of those endearing (or not so endearing!) games that couples play with each other when they’ve been a couple for so many years!

Makes me absolutely batty! But whatever….

“Oh nothing,” I sarcastically respond with a grin on my face, “I think I’ll just lounge with the termites today and have an Orange Julius. Have a good day, Sweetie!”

I don’t know, People! I’m thinkin’ a good sense of humor is something worth keeping in my life these days!

What do you think?

Have a great day! I know I will ─ sipping Orange Julius’s and hangin’ with my termite buddies!!!!

 

Until next week’s adventure: laugh often and enthusiastically! Life’s too precious not to!

The Princess and the Four Legged Pumpkin

Okey Dokey, People!

 

So, we’re driving home from doing errands on Saturday, when I notice a rag-a-muffin little white dog in a Halloween pumpkin costume nervously running from one thing to another, lifting his hind leg and peeing on everything that’s not moving.

 

I look at the Princess and say, “Hm, I think this little pumpkin is lost. He looks like he’s seen a ghost or two from last night and appears a little traumatized. We’d better stop the car and see if ‘Mr. Pumpkin’ here, has a home.”

 

I’m pulling over to the side of the street, when I hear the Princess say (in what I assume she felt was her most enticing doggy voice), “Come here, Little Pumpkin. Come on over ta Momma.”

 

“Dam,” she continues, “I wish we had some doggy treats!”

 

“Uh hun”, I’m thinkin’, “WTS?! Why would we (the owner of TWO CATS!!) be driving around with doggy treats in our car?”

 

“Ok”, I mumble to myself, “Whatever! It’s Princess logic. You never question Princess logic. Just go with it, Lucie. There’s no time to argue with her Highness. Just go with it.”

 

At this point, I assume the dog is more interested in finding another place to relieve himself, because the next thing I know, we’re looking at this little orange ball of matted fur go speeding down the street and out of sight, like a bat outta hell!

 

I’m looking at the Princess with total disbelief, shaking my head, and mumbling, “Pumpkin?!  Pumpkin?! You seriously called the dog Pumpkin? And told him to come ta Momma?!

 

“Really? Seriously?”

 

“You probably scared the shit outta him, and who knows where Mr. Pumpkin is headed for at this point?!  His owners are probably worried sick over the little guy, and you try to entice him with, ‘Come to Momma?!’ ”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“For Chriminy sakes, Woman! I don’t blame the little guy! He probably got insulted when you called him Pumpkin and high tailed it for who knows where!” I continue.

 

“Now what the heck are we gonna do?” I sarcastically inquire, while shaking my head in total disgust.

 

“Geesch!”

 

And if Her Highness isn’t feeling bad enough for losing him, I continue to lay on another layer of guilt and tell her, “Some kid’s probably ballin’ his eyes out over the little fella and just worried sick over him.”

 

“Well, for Pete’s sake, Lucie,” her Highness snaps back, “Ya wanna shut up with the dramatics and start driving around looking for him?”

 

“We’re wasting time!” she barks. “ He’s probably headed back to the Pumpkin Patch, for all we know!”

 

“Drive around the corner, and let’s see if he’s made it to the end of the street by now.”

 

We get to the end of the block, and (sure enough) we spot Pumpkin, himself, eyeballing one of the neighbor’s bushes for his next “relief station”.

 

I’m taking a quick assessment of the situation and thinkin’ to myself, “If the Princess gets outta the car and s l o w l y approaches him, maybe I can kinda corral  him with the car between her and the bushes, and she can grab ahold of him and get a look at his collar for some i.d.

 

Uh hun.

 

Well, that was the plan, anyhow!

 

So her Highness jumps outta the car and starts running after the little guy, totally ignoring my pleas to her to “go slowly and before you know it, the Princess slips head over tea kettle into the mud and takes a header into the bushes.

 

(Did I tell you that after having a draught for the past 8 months, we got rain last night? Well, we did – got rain, that is.)

 

By this time, I’m laughing my butt off, and Pumpkin looks scared shit-less and headed for who knows where, when out of nowhere Mr. Happy Feet himself (jogging in the neighborhood) eyeballs the situation and as nonchalant as can be, scoops the little fella up with one hand, brings him over to us, and ever so calmly inquires, “This little guy belong to you?”

 

By this time, her Highness is disgustingly wiping the mud off the front of her (previously) clean white shirt and trying to straighten out her new designer glasses that she just picked up last night, don’t ’cha know (all the while staring at ME, as if this whole mess is MY fault!); when I calmly say to Mr. Happy himself, “No, not really.”

 

“We were just trying to get him back to his rightful owner,” I continue, “but we’re having a helluva time catching the mutt to get his i.d. from his collar. Thanks for catching him for us!”

 

Now all the while I’m saying this, Mr. Happy Feet is eyeballing the Princess and me from head to toe, and, I guess, trying to assess the situation for the little Pumpkin’s safety and well-being. (Wouldn’t wanna leave the little guy with 2 crazy old women, I guess!)

 

(Actually, I don’t know what the hell he was doing. I just know that I’ve seenthat look before! If you recall, I’m kinda accustomed to being eyeballed  for drool and lotion goobers and the like. So for ME, it really wasn’t any big deal.)

 

But the Princess, don’t ’cha know, is a highly respected business woman (or so she likes to think!), and she let me know later that evening that she didn’t appreciate how Mr. Happy Feet, himself, eyeballed her while she gingerly picked the branches outta her hair!

 

Anyway, Mr. Happy Feet eventually assesses that we’re rather harmless old women (despite the fact that one of us–NOT ME, of course!–definitely looked a tad deranged with her soiled clothing, hair with branches sticking out every which way and tweaked designer glasses) and reluctantly handed over the mangy little mutt to us so we could call the numbers listed on his collar.

 

After mud wrestling with the little fellow for 5 or so minutes, the Princess finally gets a phone number to call from the i.d.on his collar, and I contact the owner.

 

“ Hi”, I say to the woman answering the phone, “We think we’ve got your dog. Would you happen to be missing a little white-haired pooch wearing a pumpkin costume?” I continue.

 

“No”, she slowly answers, “I don’t think so”.

 

And before I could say another word, we hear her yelling, “Henry?!  You know where Spider is?”

 

(Yeah, I know! I’m sure you’re thinkin’ the same thing I thought: they actually made SPIDER wear a PUMPKIN costume! Whatever! Little Spider’s probably gonna end up in doggie-therapy for a year, but that’s a story for another day, People!)

 

“No”, we hear Henry answer in the background, “haven’t seen him in awhile.”

 

“Why?” he continues.

 

“Well, some lady’s calling saying she’s got Spider down on McKinley and Main Street,” she yells at him. “Could you see if he’s in the back yard?”

 

By this time, I’m looking at the Princess who has mud from head to toe, and has tweaked her new, designer glasses that she JUST picked up last night, don’t ’cha know, and I’m thinkin’, “Really?! Seriously?”

 

But wait!!!! The story gets even wackier!!!!!

 

The next thing we hear is Henry yelling back to his wife, “ I don’t know where the heck Spider is, Sara, but we’ve got a soccer game in 20 minutes! And we don’t have time for this monkey business! Tell them to keep him, ’till we get back!!! I’m not driving all the way up to McKinley to pick him up, and we’re not gonna miss the boy’s soccer game over that dam dog, again!”

 

OMG!

 

“I could be wrong, but maybe little Spider here was actually trying to run AWAY from this family?!”

 

What da ya think, Peoples???

 

Life in our shoes is sure weird sometimes! Go out and have yourselves a laugh and a snicker on us today! You certainly deserve it!!! (I know we do!!!)

 

P.S. As of this posting, Spider is happily (we hope!) home with his family. We, on the other hand, have a car full of muddy dog prints, one torn up, stained shirt, and a tweaked pair of glasses! But hey, as long as there’s a special place reserved in Heaven for us, we’re good to go!!!

 

Lucie and the Princess Get Some New T.P.

Okey – Dokey.

 

So, I’m sitting here today feelin’ itchy “south of the border”, don’t ’cha know? And it dawns on me, “Yep, we stayed at my brother’s and sister-in-law’s last month for my younger brother’s wedding, if you recall, and the Princess happened to comment that she liked their toilet paper.”

 

Nice and smooth, ‘don’t ’cha know, on her highness’ hinny.

 

So, she tells me last week, “Give your sister-in-law a holler, and find out what kind of toilet paper they use, OK?”

 

“I’ve gotta go to work,” she continues, while heading out the door, “so make sure you call her, alright?”

 

“OK, no biggy”, I think to myself, while giving our front room a quick lookey-loo for spider webs and termites. I’ll just add that to my “little honey do list” today and see what I can do for the little Sweetheart!

 

Have I told you about our termite adventure yet, People? NO? The Princess and I are “special”! We live in the land of constant sunshine and warmth and have a vaulted ceiling that termites just love.

 

“Did you know, People, that termites hunker down for three seasons outta four in VAULTED CEILINGS in CA??”

 

“Yep. They do.”  (Hunker down in vaulted ceilings, that is.)

 

We’re so lucky, the Princess and I!

 

And trying to be ever so eco-friendly and all, we had the exterminator use “orange oil” on the little buggers.

 

Yes, you heard right: ORANGE OIL! Supposed to be “non-toxic for you and your animals,” don’t ’cha know, and dastardly on the termites themselves.

 

Yes siree, Bob! These here termites are shaking in their little termite booties, sipping on Orange Julius’s as I write this!!

 

Whatever!!!

 

I ain’t got time for this, for Criminy sakes! I gotta buy the Princess some super-smooth textured t.p., or one of us is gonna be having a little ’tude tonight, don’t ’cha know?

 

Okey – Dokey.

 

So, as I’m entering the local Target store,  I say to myself,  “Let me just ask this nice-looking clerk if he can help direct me to the t.p. aisle.”

 

I give myself a quick look over and pat down for drool, lotion goobers, snot and possible termite escapees; and then proceed to ask the clerk where their t.p. is. (Note: For those few of you who don’t know about the drool, lotion goobers, and snot: Where the heck have you been??!! Seriously!)

 

OK, I digress.

 

So, I get to the t.p. aisle and go into high anxiety mode! (It’s kinda my body’s version of the National Weather’s alert system for hurricanes, only for my special, sensitive Buddha Belly Body!)

 

I’m lookin’ down two very long aisles, packed 3 shelves high with every kind of t.p. under the sun, and I’m thinkin’, “WTS!”(No pun intended!)

 

“Where in God’s creation have I been for the past 10 years?! This is either the Mother Lode of T.P., or I’ve wandered into some kind of Hallmark store for T.P.!!!”

 

“Cazzo! How the hell am I going to choose that special t.p. for her highness’s tush?!!! One brand alone has 5 different kinds!”

 

Hmm…Let me get serious here: We’ve got your “Gentle care with Aloe and Vitamin E and wider sheets.

 

(OK. The Princess and I have gained a few pounds during menopause; the wider sheets could be good. And my Doctor told me I need to start taking some extra vitamins; so the vitamin E could be beneficial, as well.)

 

We’ve got your “Ultra Comfort Care that’s thick and cushiony.”

 

(Uh Huh,  I wouldn’t mind some thick, cushiony t.p. caressing my hinny.)

 

Then there’s your “Strong and Absorbent” followed two rows down next to your, “Ultra Soft Mega Plus t.p. with the Scent of Chamomile.”

 

(Hmm.. this has some serious potential: If you accidentally blow wind some day (in say a movie theater or grocery store), no worries! You’ve got the scent of chamomile to “cover your odiferous gift to the world.”

 

We’ve got your, “Double plus, more absorbent; uses 4x’s less.”

 

(You wanna tell me how they got that little statistic?! Please, I’d like to know!)

 

And last but not least, the ever popular “Econo Grade – No fuss. No muss:  Wipes your butt and gets you outta-the-john-in-a-hurry kind!”

 

(Apparently, that’s similar to the one we already have, so I’ll pass on that one!)

 

Okey – Dokey, Artichokey!

 

This is not gonna be an easy decision, but I’ve gotta date with Larry, Curly and Moe of The Three Stooges Termite Co., and I don’t have time to be too fussy, don’t ’cha know?

 

So I grab the gentle care with aloe and vitamin E! It’s got a $1.00 off coupon stuck on it, and I’m sure this “is a sign” to buy it!

 

Yep. Life is just swell, People; just swell!

 

I’m sitting here squirming around on my desk chair feeling awfully “sensitive” in these here delicate parts of my body, and it’s slowly sinking in:

 

“You darn fool! You’re allergic to everything under the sun (and then more!).”

 

“I bet you’re allergic to the new T.P.!”

 

“For Chriminy sakes, Lucie! You’d best be taking the new allergy drug Dr. T. ordered for you last week! Otherwise, it’s gonna be a long night! A very long night!!!!”

 

That’s Life in My Shoes today, People! Go out and spread a little sunshine around for others! You never know what people are going through in their shoes.

 

And by all means, People, don’t be buying any new toilet tissue without giving some SERIOUS consideration to your little sensitivities!! Until next week……“Life in Lucie’s Shoes” is always an adventure!

Cazzo! Parking Issues (Part 2)

Ok.

If you recall, my Dr. told me a while ago that I’d best be losing some weight.

The menopausal midriff that I’ve recently acquired ain’t just a thyroid problem, and I’d best be cutting back on my bread and pasta! (Yeah, right?! Like this is so easy for an Italian who was raised with Jewish breads and pastries from our local bakery! You might as well tell me to cut off my right arm!!)

So, being the ever compliant patient that I am, I made myself some bacon, eggs, home fries and a toasted, buttered N.Y. bagel (no salt, of course! I’m trying to eat healthy, don’t ‘cha know?!)

“Hm, maybe I should walk over to our pet sitter’s house and pick up the key we lent her. She lives a couple of blocks up the road, so that should burn off my breakfast calories, fer sure!”

I get there in no time flat and think to myself, “Dam Girl! You should be proud of yourself! I think you’ve even worked up a little mist on your upper lip! The Doctor’s gonna be totally proud of you!”

Capricia (“Cap”) meets me out in front of her house and we start talking about my little parking issue from the day before.

I’m still feeling “miffed”, over the county’s response to our parking and trash issues in front of our house, and then she tells me about  her issues in front of her house! (“OMG! I thought we had issues! Ours are nothing compared to hers!”)

She lives by our local high school, so I’m “assuming” her problems are with some of the know-it-all teenagers who walk by her house.

“Ya wanna talk about parking issues?”

“I’ll tell you about parking issues,” she enthusiastically gestures with her hands waving up and down!

“I’ve got an ice cream truck owner, named Jorge, who parks in front of our home at the end of every school day – Monday thru Friday!”

“And every day there’s a bunch of over-zealous, over-sexed teenagers waiting for ice cream precariously balanced on the head of my LAWN SPRINKLERS!!!”

“It’s not bad enough that Big Foot and his lady friends line up and stomp on our sprinkler heads,”  she continues, “but they gotta tongue wrestle while they’re waiting in line!!”

Cap animatedly continues,”Cazzo! Mi fa cagare!” Loosely translated: WTS!!! It makes me crazy (or poop, depending on what section of Italy you say it in!!)!

Hm…did I tell you that Capricia’s an Italian, too? (Just in case you didn’t figure that out already?)Talks fast and with her hands, so I totally “get her“!

While she’s saying this, I’m eye-balling the front of her home and it’s pristine beautiful – beautifully manicured flower bed, a perfectly cut lawn, newly painted trim on the house, etc. A house right out of  Better Homes and Garden.

Cap continues waving her hands and shouting, “And if THAT’S not enough of a hassle, I open up my garage door one day and find a totally strange man sitting in his truck in my driveway in front of my garage doors!”

“I go up to him, knock on his door window and yell, “Scuse me! Scuse me!! Do I know you?!”

“No,” he calmly responds, “I’m waiting for my kid to get out of school and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

By this time, I’m bent over with laughter because I can’t believe the audacity of this jerk and Cap continues.

“Yes, she yells at the guy, “I do mind, so will you get your sorry butt outta my driveway and let me outta my garage?!!!”

“And by the way, my husband’s a retired Police Captain,” she adds.

Now did I tell you about Cap’s husband, Otto? He doesn’t get as animated over things like this, because he’s “been there and done that.” He has seen so much crap in his life as a Police Officer that nothing fazes him…makes Cap crazy as a shithouse rat! (But that’s a story for another day!)

Cap, however, believes you gotta give the”ole Italian stink eye” to get people’s attention!

I’m thinking maybe the “ole Italian stink eye” might just work with our parking issues! What da ya think, people??

Yep! Life in Lucie’s shoes sure is a hoot! Have a great day, People! And remember: Take a moment or two each day to share a laugh with a friend or relative. You never know whose day you’ll brighten by that simple little act of kindness.

Wait….what the heck’s on my lip?! Mist?!!

WTS?!! This isn’t mist! My nose is running!

The entire time I was talking to Cap I had snot on my lip!

Oh for Pete’s sake! In the period of a couple of months, the public has seen me with drool, lotion goobers, and now SNOT!!

Snot, people! Snot! (A.K.A. Nasal drippin’ goop!!!)

Disgusting!

I think I’ve hit my all time low…Geesch!

Thank you, Lord!  I appreciate your sense of humor! Just in case my little Buddha belly and Me were feeling “too uppity”, I can always depend on you to keep me humble!

Life in my shoes can certainly keep me grounded at times, People!

Catch ya next week for another adventure looking at life from “my shoes”!