Pin the tail on the Donkey

I missed another appointment today. I got lost. I get lost often. I suffer from dds - direction deficit syndrome.


I suppose I am not alone. I mean, that's why they created the GPS, right? This appointment was not serious. It was just a hair appointment at a new salon. Usually, I am not late. I am high maintenance, but prompt. If my husband drives, we sometimes arrive too early. I am only late if I am going somewhere without him. It is not because I am home with a curling iron stuck in my hair. It is because I am driving around and have no idea where I am. The last new hair salon I went to, I got lost. My first appointment with my therapist, I got lost. I was 30 minutes late. After I got to my destination, I realized I didn't have 2 shoes in the car that matched. The two different shoes took the emphasis off the 30 minutes I was late.


My first recollection of my struggle was when I was seven years old. We lived on Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. Our house was on base and a block away from school. In September, I left school with my friend MaryJane. I ended up on the far end of the base, away from my house. I had to stop at a stranger's house and ask to use the phone to call my mother. That weekend, my parents walked me up the street, across the street, to school and back. But, I realized quickly that my particular problem happens when there is more than one exit to a building. I knew my way home if I left through the right door. But, if I go out a different door...well...and I couldn't remember which door was the right door.


Since that day, I have gotten lost in hospitals, hotels and train stations. Let's take Penn Station for example. It is one thing when you can't find your way when you are new to the city. But, I traveled there once a week. One time, I was going straight to the Penn Hotel. So, I thought I would be fancy and go out a different door. No matter how I tried, I kept ending up in Madison Square Garden. Seriously, in Madison Square Garden. I felt that normal heat rise up to my face and the sheer panic set in.


My normal way out of Penn Station is the 8th Avenue Exit. My destination was our office on 9th Avenue. What could possibly be easier. I got lost every time. I went left when I should have gone right ..or was it right when I should have gone left? I still don't know. Fortunately, I have a friend that starting meeting me there and walking with me to the office.


Hospitals. Sure, a hospital like Albany Medical is like a giant maze to me. I have no hope and have never dared to try and find my way around there even with the color coded lines on the floor and walls. But, I once worked nights at the small Saratoga hospital. I had to cover for another secretary on a different floor. When I was finished, I decided to take the stairs. I ended up locked outside of the back of the hospital at 3:30am.


Hotels. First, I must say that I find the floor numbers in the elevators ambigous. I want one button that tells me how to get to the front desk and the door out. But, instead, they have main lobby, first floor and a star next to the number 2. Shouldn't they all mean the same thing? One time, I kept ending up in the restaurant, unable to find a door that led outside. And, again with hotels, why do they have so many doors to different parking lots. If you take the wrong exit out of a single room, you end up on the other side of the hotel in the wrong parking lot. And every floor of rooms looks the same. The agony and sheer panic overwhelms me.

So, if you see a middle aged woman walking around looking like she just got spun to play pin the tail on the donkey, it may very well be me...Please be kind and point me in the right direction!

Is nothing sacred anymore?

Is nothing sacred anymore?

No, this is not a blog about faith and/or religion. This is a blog about bodily functions or the lack thereof.


When I lived with my parents, the word "fart" was a bad word. You tooted, passed gas, maybe even cut the cheese but you never ever farted. And, there used to be a time when a person would be mortified if they happened to fart in public. But, now, fart is an everyday occurence on TV, including the Disney station. Everyone farts. And, everyone laughs. If you happen to be in a job interview and feel the bloat coming forth in your body, you can pop a gas-x while the interviewer is taking a call from her son, Rip. Of course, I laugh at that commercial. However, I do hate when the "Nausea... heartburn...indigestion....upset stomach...diarrhea" song gets stuck in my head. Do you they do the dance now at weddings? Right after the electric slide?

I used to hate when people kissed too heavily when I was watching a movie with my father in the room. But, now I can watch TV with my son (11) and daughter (9) while a group of men talk about their erectile dysfunction. I have to think these men are getting paid top dollar to go on TV and announce that they can't ..well, participate in certain activities. Especially with the way men are...no offense meant, it is just a fact. But, fortunately, we women now have KY for Her, that will make volcanoes erupt. So, even if the man can participate even a little, rest assured, fun will be had. And, if she has burning afterward, Vagisil will help her love being a woman.

I used to get embarrassed if a tampon commercial came on in the old days. Before they said "period". Though I totally understood why we had to drop the "I have my friend" and "my monthly gift". I thought "Aunt Flo" was pretty funny. But, now, all our terrible secrets are right out there in the open. We can't zip our pants, we are nervous wearing white, and the pain tends to make us a tad irritable. Have a happy period? Really?

I leave you with this cosmic question. How many times is it funny to see a guy get hit in the balls? Come on now. Once, twice, we might chuckle at the poor man's terrible luck. But, video shows are now 1 hour of fun filled ball busting. Literally.

I Am Woman...

It is such a coincidence that the girls in the Sex and the City 2 movie sang this song. As I thought about this blog, it was my full intention to mention this Helen Reddy classic. Because I am middle aged, I remember Helen Reddy singing this song on all the variety shows in the 70's. For those too young, in the 70's, no one wore bras on TV. There were a lot of sagging breasts on prime time. The burning of the bra was to symbolize women breaking free of second class status. Fortunately, women realized that bras were a necessary evil if you wanted to have a torso.

ANYWAY... Women. We are strong, we are invincible..We are Woman! We are a combination of intelligence and responsibility, beauty and strength, compassion and insightfullness. And, frankly, we are damn tired. You see, when women were burning their bras and demanding the right to be equal, we should have shot for being treated better, not equal. We earned the right to work full time AND continue doing all the things women did before. We didn't give up anything, we only added a career on top.

Now, we live in a society where two cars is the norm. We don't live in the small ranches we grew up in. No, we live in colonials and the like. Our children walk around with $200 gadgets listening to music. They have game systems that cost $200+ with corresponding games that cost $35-45. The dolls are $100+ each and the clothes for them cost more than I spend on myself. Oh, and gas for our cars is $3.00 a gallon.

Many women struggle with dropping their babies off at a daycare. Off to work they go, not because they have the ability and want to prove they can do anything men can do, not because we love our careers. We KNOW we can do anything men can do. AND, many of us have "jobs" not "careers". We do it for the money. Even though much of our hard earned money goes back to the people at the daycare, we still do it because we need the money. We have altered the way we live to where we no longer can survive with one salary.

My niece, who recently went back to work after having a baby, said how am I going to do this? My work exhausts me and then I have to come home and try to spend a wonderful hour with my son before he goes to sleep. And, I said the wise (?) words of "It will get easier". It will get easier because "We are strong, We are invincible". But, our hearts want to be with the baby.

I am blessed, I have a wonderful husband. I know that I would have a tough time doing it without him. But, even with him, I have to be medicated. Yes, I am on anxiety medication. As are many, many of the woman I know. Because even though I am strong and invincible, the responsibility of it all gives me the shakes sometimes. So, with a bottle in hand, I declare proudly........I AM WOMAN.