I won’t be back until Sunday night late. It’ll probably be sometime Monday before I get back online. Details on the drama forthcoming next week. I hope everybody has a great weekend.

Shmirshky is a book about PM&M, which E describes as  “The entire time in a shmirshky’s life when she’s going through the menopause experience”. Although E supplies a copious amount of medical information about the thyroid and hormone replace therapy in her book,  she demystified it, thereby making it easy to digest. Finally, you’ll be able to understand exactly what your doctor is talking about instead of sitting there looking at him like the RCA Victor dog.

More than just explaining all the medical jargon though, E describes her journey through PM&M in a way that all us can relate to. You’ll find yourself laughing out loud at things which aren’t usually even funny. More importantly though, E reminds all of going through this journey that we are not alone, to reach out to our friends and family who love us. She also encourages us to live “Sumo” free. (If you want to know what that means, you’ll just have to read the book).

I realize that I’ve used some words and phrases in this review that might be unfamiliar to some of  you. I did this for a reason. Part of the fun of the book is discovering these new words and their meanings. It’s a short book and an easy read. You owe it to yourself to read it; then give it to someone who loves you. For a limited time, if you enter the word “Bodacious” on the order form, you’ll save 20%.  I’m making nothing for this review or from the sale of the book, so please believe me when I tell you that ordering this book is money well spent.

Usually with things so valuable I make a mental note, or even write a Post-it, something to help me so I can remember where I’ve placed something valuable. (Sadly, occasionally I seem to have written the note with invisible ink). I only have a couple of nice, AKA not costume, pieces of jewelery and that’s OK with me. A couple of years ago I thought it’d be a good thing to put the earrings somewhere “safe”. They were safe all right. So safe I didn’t know where they were for over a year.

Since I’m not exactly sure how I would’ve packaged my libido prior to moving it somewhere, flat out misplacing it also seems unlikely. That only leaves kidnapping. What I want to know is- who else would want it? They wouldn’t know how to use it anyway. They don’t have the owners manual. They couldn’t even get it started. Maybe it was stolen then discarded when they couldn’t figure out how to make it work. The thought of it just sitting in a landfill somewhere is just too sad to imagine.

Could it be ransom that they want?  If it’s cold cash that they want then we’ve got a problem. Although Doug considers it priceless, since we still haven’t gotten the $6K from you know who, a large amount of cash would be almost impossible to come up with at this juncture. (Now, if they needed some renovations done on their house, maybe we could work something out).

Of course if Doug somehow discovered that someone was holding onto my libido for profit and depriving us of pleasure in the process, he wouldn’t be a happy camper; and although I’ve never seen Doug actually hurt anybody, he can look really scary. (The whole big guy from NJ thing you know).

As I was writing this I’ve had a few more ideas, although I admit they’re far fetched. Maybe it’s just fallen and can’t get up; but if that’s it, I don’t know when it fell.  Maybe it’s hiding under an invisibility cloak like the one in Harry Potter. Maybe it’s just sleeping like Robert deNiro in Awakenings. If that’s it,  would someone please tell me what magic pill I can take to wake it up. I even tried Zestra. I’ve read that it worked for some women. I’m happy for them. However, I felt sunburned, not sexy. It wasn’t a good thing- at least for me.

I’ve read from time to time about other women losing their libidos. Do you think it’s possible they’re all off together somewhere partying? Maybe we need a libido detective or perhaps someone who really understands them- kind of a libido whisperer to help find them. I’m open to any and all suggestions. Please send them along ASAP before Doug  grinds his molars completely into dust.

I admit it. We took our kids to Sea World to see Shamu about 15 years ago during spring break.  Sea World hadn’t been open very long In San Antonio and everybody in Texas couldn’t wait to go. We thought it was great- at the time. Later that same summer, we learned what we did was wrong, very wrong. In my defense, we didn’t know any better. (However, that never really gets anybody off on Law and Order does it)?

We laughed, and oohed and aahed along with everybody else in the crowd, naively assuming that the lives of their animal performers were  great. I did think about the confinement issue. However, I justified that in my mind by thinking that they really didn’t have to do that much everyday and they only worked 6 months a year. They had major medical; not to mention no more worries about being attacked in the wild or having to forage for food.

A few months later we took to the kids to Corpus Christi, a resort town located down the Texas coast about 225 miles from Houston. Being raised by two avid (fisherpeople)?, Corpus was where we went every summer, two or three times. I wanted our kids to see the town and some of the places that I so enjoyed growing up. While checking into the hotel I saw a brochure that had dolphins on it. It was for a small little business called the Dolphin Connection. For $15, you could go out in a small boat into Corpus Christi bay and interact with wild dolphins, so it said. I called and booked our trip for our last day of vacation.

The next few days were fun, a little too much sun and some so-so food; but the kids had a good time. They even saw the hotel pool where I learned to swim. I was waiting for the last day. When we got to Ingleside, a tiny little community right by Corpus, we met Erv Strong and his wife and Sonja AKA The Dolphin Connection. Weather permitting, Erv takes a maximum of 6 people at a time, out to see the dolphins in the bay. I think now he charges $25. This trip is so worth it.

It is like nothing you could imagine. These wild dolphins come up to the boat to interact with you because they want to, not because it’s their job or because they get fed. You can dangle your feet in the water and they come right up to you. If you love dolphins and whales please go to the link and check out the entire website. You’ll learn a lot and probably never go to Sea World again.Here’s a link to just one page of their blog.

I’m not against Sea World. They rescue and rehab all kinds of marine life. That’s just great. However, after listening to Erv, who has been with dolphins for almost 30 years, you’ll never again want to see a captive dolphin or whale show. I’ll probably never again get to be as close to an orca as I was at Sea World. I may never even get to see one on a whale watching tour; but that’s OK. I’d rather see them on Animal Planet or the Discovery than ever see a captive dolphin or whale again.

Here’s an excerpt from one of the links on their site. I heard this info for the first time while out on a trip with Erv. Ric O’Barry, who captured and trained the dolphins that played “Flipper” said, “Flipper was the best and worst thing that ever happened to dolphins.
On one hand it made the masses aware of them, and on the other, it created an image of them that made people desire to have, hold and be with them.
What turned me around on the captivity issue was when Flipper die in my arms inside a cold, chlorinated, steel tank at Miami Sea Aquarium.
I must tell you. I believe it was suicide.”

If you decide to go, please tell him that you heard about him from the Bodacious Boomer. We gone many times over the years and enjoyed it every time. Last time it was just Doug and I.

FYI- They have life jackets for your little ones; and it’s usually better when the water gets a little warmer.

Wednesday I called Evelyn and told her that I’d been to the doctor. We talked about my appointment for a bit and then I said “It’s time”. She let one sigh, and then another. Then she said “I knew this was coming”, resolutely. (She knew what was coming next). She didn’t want to hear it. “It’s been too long you know”, I said.  “I know, I know”, she said. “Tomorrow, then?” “Allright, allright. I’ll pick you up at 8am”.

So Thursday morning at 8:30 am, she came to get me with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. I said “Good morning”; and she said “Where?” And what was making my normally cheery friend surly? We not only started back at the gym yesterday; we also started eating healthy. I had an egg white omelette after the gym. She had a waffle, but only half. I know I’m finally back on track because although there’s a cupcake calling to me from the kitchen counter at this moment, I’m holding fast.

I thought I’d take the fitness test on the treadmill. I entered all my info and the belt started. I was in the warm-up cruising at 3mph. I thought everything was going pretty well until… the front of the machine raised dramatically and the speed increased to 4.5 mph.; 4.5 mph is no longer a brisk walk. It’s a jog, at least for me. For the first couple of minutes I did OK, although it sounded like a herd of elephants were running with me. After the first two minutes though, I decided that the benefit to my heart wasn’t worth the damage to my ta-tas. They hadn’t bounced that much in years. It was a bad thing. I still haven’t taken my bra off. (I’m almost afraid to). I’ve never found a bra that prevents bounce if you’re DDD.

I thought I'd aim for this look

Anyway, I think I’ll just let that cupcake  sit there and watch as it slowly petrifies. (I think it’ll petrify before it turns moldy). It’s really strange; once I’m being really good, nothing seems to tempt me. Although I’m keeping watch for bad Michele. (I really don’t need her showing up right now). She tends to pop in a lot, especially when she’s not wanted. If you want to read more about her exploits, just do a search for her at bodaciousboomer.com.

I stood there pointing to what I thought had been a chewed up toy. It was chewed up all right, but it was NOT a toy. It was half a opossum, the front half. Prior to moving to this house I’d only seen one opossum my whole life. It was alive and hanging in my MIL’s garage. Since we moved to this house, almost three years ago, now my opossum sightings are well into double digits for sure; however, they’re all dead. Our house backs up to a bayou. (I guess that’s where they’re all coming from). One of my first postings was about our opossum problem. A couple of these critters have been over 20 lbs. They are huge!- and scary looking. I’m beginning to wonder if the bayou behind our house has toxic waste. They’re getting so big they’re really starting to freak out Nate, Brett, and Doug too.

We don’t leave food out. I don’t know why they keep coming into our yard. Wouldn’t you think they’d catch on? “Hey Steve, don’t go over there, Joe did the other day and he didn’t come back”. I don’t mean to sound callus about this. I absolutely love animals; but I don’t know what else to do. I read that we could keep a strobe light going; that opossums don’t like them. However, I don’t believe I’d be very popular with the neighbors. Since the dogs go in and out the dog door, if we left a human trap out and by chance caught one, one of our pack would hurt themselves on the wire trap trying to get to it.

Years ago, our Siberian Husky, Kiwi was nice enough to bring me a squirrel head. The perfect gift for the mom who has everything, you know. Brett took it and was going to put it under his sister’s pillow. Luckily Doug got it away from him before he could do it. Brotherly love- what a beautiful thing.

The nurse greeted me and asked how I was doing? I told her I wished I could say I was 20 and was just popping in to get my birth control pills- no aches, no pains, no twinges; but alas, that was not possible. Unfortunately, I fear I’m starting to sound like those little old ladies who dotter into the doctor and complain that everything but their eyelashes hurt.  Or maybe I sound more like Mr. Richard Fader made famous by Roseann Roseanna Danna.

When I got on the scale at his office, I looked at the nurse and said  “You’re going to take 2 lbs. off for shoes and clothes aren’t you?” (Like that’s really going to make a difference- please). At least she was considerate enough to go behind closed doors before she broke out laughing.

I’ve had the same young doctor for years now. He is such a sweetie. I even talk to him by email if I just need something called out. He looked at me today and could tell I wasn’t the happiest of campers. He listened patiently as I rattled off my litany of complaints. I even had it all written down so I wouldn’t forget one! That was a first for me and not one I was especially thrilled about. By the time I left there today I’d had my right shoulder x-rayed (The one damaged from all the face painting)- also an EKG- I’ve had some fibrillation in the past couple of weeks. (I’m blaming Doug for that). There’s also an MRI scheduled for my left knee. (I can trip over a grain a sand- a mountain goat I am not). At any rate, within a month or so we’ll know just how well everything works. It’s sounds like a lot of problems, but it has been almost a year after all.

I almost forgot- I’m getting my eyes checked out as well. There’s a nasty rumor spreading about that I don’t see distances well enough to drive. Well, we’ll see about that. Actually, it’s just a ploy of mine to be driven about. If  I could just get Doug would wear that little black cap I bought him…

In the meantime I decided I’d try some therapy- mind wise- that is. So, starting next month, March 11th to be exact, I’m seeing a “feesachiatrist” as Ricky Ricardo used to say. I hope he has a big notebook and a comfy couch. I think it will be should be verrry interesting.

Gizmo the Brave, but not too smart

I’ve got a Dr.’s appointment this morning. It is cold and wet outside. I’d about rather get another root canal than go out and drive around in all this mess today then wait in the “waiting room”. Is it an unwritten rule that every magazine in that little room has to be at least 3 years old? The last magazine I read in a waiting room had Britney awaiting the birth of her 2nd baby. Whatever, I’ve got to go. Besides the root canal last week did kinda suck, especially afterward. Oh well, it’s a good thing to get the checkup behind me anyway I guess.

I saw this absolutely ginormous great Dane named George on the Oprah show yesterday.  He weighs 245 lbs and sleeps on his own queen sized bed. He looks like such a sweetie.

Here’s a clip of George and the man who loves him. You know, if my Gizmo met George he’d try to pick a fight. Thank God the big guys are usually gentle giants and are dismissive of the crazy acting little guys.

I’ve always wanted to have a really huge dog. But I know the biggest breeds usually have much shorter life spans; and when I lose a dog, it’s a very, very bad thing for me indeed. From the time I was very little my mom told me the story of the rainbow bridge, where all your loved pets go after they die to wait for you. (That story has helped to get me through some really dark days.) I fully expect by the time I get to that bridge, I’m going to look like Caesar Milan, the dog whisperer with a whole pack o’ pooches waiting for me. I’m just hoping that when everybody is up there they all get along; some of my pups have had a surplus of “self-confidence” let’s say.

I didn’t even think about getting another one for quite awhile. Evelyn actually bought one first and I borrowed hers. I filled it up, plugged it in and waited. It sounded like I was being attacked by a pack of cobras. The hissing was loud and impressive; but how was it really going to work? Well, it worked like a champ. It cut a swath through the dirt on my tile floors like a hot knife through butter. If your floors are truly dirty (dog dirty) you have to change out the washable pad on the bottom while your are mopping the one room. It’s a bit of a pain, but so worth it. With 6 dogs, 3 big and 3 small, my den floor gets seriously nasty looking very quickly.

Since I was so impressed with Evelyn’s mop I decided to buy one myself. I drug an old sofa out yesterday and put it on the back patio. I would’ve taken it all the way to the street but Doug has the front porch all covered with power tools. (Go figure). I’d only asked him to do it for the last few weeks. I’m not going to leave the sofa out back. I’ll harass Doug enough tomorrow to take it to the curb tomorrow night. A gentle “Would you please?” just seems to fall on deaf ears these days.

With that janky old couch out, I got busy with my mop. I sat in the den last night petting furry heads and admiring my less cluttered and definitely cleaner den. It was so much more relaxing in there. Do you know what Doug said today? It wasn’t “Gee thanks Honey, it looks nice.” or “I know you worked hard.” I got ” That wasn’t important you know.” That set me off like I had a roman candle up my wazoo and lucky for him he picked up on it. I swear this man is making me crazy. Lucky for me I see my doc in the morning. I think I’ll see if he can refer me to a therapist.  Something needs to change before I wind up with bars on my windows and a husband named Shelia.

Doug left for a couple of hours and just returned with a small bunch of tulips. No “I’m sorry for being so condescending.” If I didn’t like flowers so much. I’d pelted him over the head with them. Then I was asked, “Are things just going to be tense here for a couple of days?” Men…

BTW- In the interest of full disclosure I must say that Doug is cooking dinner tonight; and he does clean from time to time. However, tonight this card  just sums up my feelings about him- for tonight. Sorry if anyone is offended.