%&*#@

Is it me or what?  I’m not living under a rock…am I?  I like to at least THINK that I stay pretty current with the latest trends, whether it’s in clothes, the latest movies or actors, the latest jargon, or current events.   I am not in the dark...entirely.  I get, at least most of, the current sexual innuendoes rampantly used on TV and in the movies...some sooo slick, the references barely slip past the censors.

But I am not addressing any of that.  I am talking about the pure, unadulterated, cussing-like-a-sailor language…used by young ladies(?).  Yes, I am picking on the ladies today.  And I don’t mean the middle-school aged girls who are still in the experimental stage trapped somewhere between childhood and adulthood.

I am talking about college age and older girls.  Young women who are, or will be going, out into the workforce soon.    Their Facebook walls are full of vulgar profanities.  They sound…excuse my language…like a “bitchass” (idiot).   Their obscenities may just come back to sting them one day, and sooner than they expect.

Just because this language is more commonly used among young people (unfortunately, diluting some of its harshness) doesn’t make it alright.

Years ago if there was a group of young guys talking and their language got a little “colorful” when a young lady was within ear-shot, at least one of the men would offer an apology.  Sometimes it was just an “excuse my French” but it was an overture that said, I respect you.  And we appreciated it. (Like on the “Grumpy Old Man” segment of SNL, “That’s the way it was…and we LIKED it.”)

What happened to that courtesy?  I’ll tell you what happened.  The young girls joined right in with the boys (the language of the girls is, many times, worse than the boys) and have relinquished that respect.

Don’t forget, language is a big part of how others judge you.  Once someone has an impression of you it's hard to change that.
 Kudos to all the young men and women out there who haven’t succumbed to trash-talk (at least in mixed company).  You signify manners, maturity, and intelligence.

Aging is History



Me in 1967



I realize the name of my blog is Wrinkles Don’t Hurt…Much, but today I did feel a little twinge of pain as I strolled up the beauty aisle of my local drug store (yes, drug store…no over-priced designer names for me…anymore) to purchase my Neutrogena Wrinkle Serum…not a crème, mind you…a serum.  

According to the built-in dictionary in Word on my computer (too lazy to roll my computer chair across the room to look up “serum” in old-man-Noah’s dictionary), “serum” is the liquid part of the blood (similar to plasma without the clotting agents), or 2; a clear watery body fluid).  Hummm.  If I am paying $19.99 for a bottle of this “serum” and sticking it on my face, it’d better work.

But in the scheme of things, $19.99 for a fraction of an ounce of “liquid gold” is a real deal.  What bothered me, though, was that in the beauty aisle, all the Olay skin-care products were housed in a small plexi-glass-type “safe”, right there on the shelf, only to be open by a clerk with the key.   It was then that I thought how much things have changed.

As a young teen I would spend a whole afternoon at Woolworth’s or Kresge’s with my friends browsing through the cosmetics and having so much fun laughing as we sampled the beauty products.  In the 60s, products weren’t wrapped into hard plastic containers that required a pair of pliers, a mini-saw, and Edward Scissorhands to open.    

My friends and I would stock up on “Hide-It” crème.  Hide-It came in a small shallow round container that was no bigger than a small eye-shadow case.  It was actually a blemish crème, but we’d wear that white salve smeared thickly on our lips forcing the color of our mouths to blend effortlessly into our pale skin.  Then we’d paint our eyes the darkest of black. 

It was cool then.  I suppose as cool (or as "Sweet" "Rad" "Boss" "Bomb" "Phat" or whatever is "IN" now) as the variety of strange nail polish hues and hair dyes of today.  Every generation needs their own fashion statements...and crèmes and lotions, and serums. 

That Old Time Religion

Me in my uniform.  Circa 1956

Today is Wednesday.  Actually it’s Ash Wednesday.  The first day of Lent…40 days before Easter (not counting Sundays).

My formal education began with 8 years in Catholic school taught by Dominican nuns. Obviously Ash Wednesday was a big day.  After attending church (which I obediently did EVERYday as part of school) and having ashes ceremoniously crossed onto my forehead, my thoughts would turn to the daunting task of what to “give-up” for Lent.  A discussion that always involved my girlfriends and what “evil influences” they were going to abstain from that particular year.

Candy?  Ice Cream?  Not American Bandstand, pleeeze!  I don’t recall anything I gave up that lasted all of a couple days, let alone 40.  I do recall friends, though, who couldn’t spend a day at the movies during this time, or participate in any other “fun” activities.

Fast-forward to 2014.  Not much thought has been given to the Lenten season.  Perhaps I should re-visit the practice of depriving myself of something for Lent.   How about giving up Facebook...OMG?  Think what I could do with all that extra time!  

Or how about abstaining from some real sweet treats?  It could do a body good…and maybe even a soul.

Happy you Found my First Post!



Much of my time is spent at this narrow desk.

 Welcome to my world!  Come on in!  Excuse the mess of papers scattered across my desk, and my umpteen pairs of reading glasses (in assorted strengths) cluttering my work space. 

I’ve been thinking about blogging, or at least writing down my thoughts for myself and family, for quite some time, but somehow keep finding excuses and put it off for some crazy reason or another.  No More!  Today I am making that commitment.  I want to get into the routine of jotting down my thoughts.  It’s good therapy... (and I am sure I could use a "little" therapy...can't we all?)  Besides, maybe I can help someone else relate to their feelings, or share the bits of wisdom I’ve picked up in my…. ummm…61 years on this planet.   Or at least, hopefully, I can bring a smile to your face and entertain you once in a while.

I suppose everyone feels like this occasionally, but I seem to come up with The.Most.Terrific.Ideas. at The.Most.Inopportune.Times!  When I’m in my car, or when falling asleep, or when I’m too busy to jot down my thoughts.  Then, when I actually sit down to write, I can’t, for the life of me, think of anything worthwhile or witty to say!

So, let me begin with a little background on me.  Hopefully, as you read through my blogs, you will get to know the real me…with my good qualities and slight (?) imperfections all rolled into one.  But most importantly, I hope to be able to keep your attention and have you asking for more, More, MORE! 

I have two adult children, they are educated, gainfully employed and married with families of their own.  And yes, that makes me a grandma (there, I said it) to 5 (aged 5 and under) of THE most perfect grandchildren.
  

I’ve been divorced now for three years.  Quite surprisingly, after a 36-year marriage (together for 40 years), my ex decided to leave  (I am sure there’ll be more on that later).  I was a Stay-at-Home-Mom for the first 10 years of my marriage...retired from an 18 year stint as an office manager for a civil engineering company, and I am a former folk guitar instructor.   

I am fortunate to now be working part-time at home for a non-profit company that promotes tourism to Michigan.  That means I am also blessed to have the time to care for my grandchildren on a part-time basis, too.   That’s me in a nut shell.

Don’t know what the next subject (read: ranting? raving?) will be, but hope you check back often so that we can get to know one another. 


And remember...Wrinkles Don't Hurt...Much!