Are you in love . . .

. . . with a purse?  If you're a guy, don't stop reading because while I'm typing, I'm also trying to think of a way to tie you into this subject too.
For right now, though, let's talk purses.  I'm not obsessed with them.  I don't change purses like my underwear; I have a summer purse and a winter purse.
I am picky, however.  It has to be big enough so all my stuff will fit into it but not like a small suitcase.  Too tough on the shoulders.
One year my sister-in-law gave me a beautiful, leather Dooney and Burke purse for Christmas.  It was really, really nice but waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay toooooooooo smaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal.  OMG, it drove me insane; turned my world upside down.  I tried.  I really tried but it just wouldn't work. 
Straps have driven me nuts for years.  99% of purses come with two (2) handles/straps.  I've had long ones and short ones and none of them have made me happy.
This year, while in Florida, I was on a purse quest - I wanted to find one with one (1) strap.  Nada.  Nuttin', honey.  I gave up and bought a colorful, summery-looking purse and told myself I was ok with it.
And I was - until I saw this one last weekend.

It's very coolio looking.  Light weight and plenty 'o room in there for everything. And - one strap and that sucker is adjustable.  I'm in love with it.  I love it so much I thought I could easily carry it all year long because I think the color will go nicely with all the seasons here in Michigan.
My neighbor, Heather, who knows about that kinda thing told me, rather quickly I might add, that in no uncertain terms, I could not haul it around all - year - long.  We decided I'd get one just like this one - in black.  Thank you, Heather, for keeping me from committing a huge fashion error.  Whew.
Now for you guys:  there must be stuff that you love.  Wallets?  Baseball caps?  Sneakers?  Help me out here, gentlemen.  I don't know what you are passionate about.
Ladies: how do you feel about your purses.  Are you toting one that you love?

A Family Wedding

Sunday morning Petey, my sister, Lisa, and I drove up north to Crystal Mountain Resort for a family wedding.  My cousin, Scott McDonald's, son, Tavis married a beautiful young woman named, Maureen.
Absolutely everything about the time up there was fantastic.
The resort itself was great.  Our accommodations were very comfortable.

We didn't have a lot of time after we'd checked in before we had to hurry off to the chair lift.  Yes, that's right - we had to take a chair lift TO THE TOP OF THE SKI SLOPE for the ceremony!  Petey and I have never been on one.

It was thrilling but not terrifying.  We were proud of ourselves for not squealing like little girls.
Once we arrived safely on top we entertained ourselves by watching others get off the lift.  Especially the girls in 5 inches heels - and, of course, the bride.

The reception afterward was great.  The food was very tasty and the carrot wedding cake was a surprise and yummy.
The absolute best part of the entire time was hanging with our cousins.  We see, Scott, on the right, once a year when he brings my mom's brother and sister-in-law to meet us for lunch but we haven't seen our cousin, Richard, on the left for many, many years.  We did a lot of hugging - and laughing.

That's my sister, Lisa, next to me.  She looks like that because she had just snorted she was laughing so hard.  We didn't have another opportunity for a second picture.  Oh, well.
Reconnecting with family meant a lot to all of us.  I sure hope I don't have to wait another 50 years.

Dinner Club

Petey and I belong to a dinner club.  Those of you who know me well are smiling right now because you know how much I don't like to cook.  If you've been reading along, I blogged about that a while back in a "kitchen" post.
No one in the group (there are 6 couples) can remember exactly how many years we've been together.  Every now and then the subject comes up - we start doing the math and then get distracted.  It's a chore.
Last night we assembled at Rosie and Tom Hunter's home.  Just to give you an idea of the lovely setting - here are two pictures: the potting shed (I could move in tomorrow) and the pond (which Petey covets with every fiber of his being).

Hotdogs and hamburgers could have been served in this setting and no one would have cared.  Isn't it beautiful?  Dogs and burgers were not on the menu last night, however.
Sometimes we have a theme for dinner which is left up to the hosts.  We've had:  come as your favorite TV character from the 50s, cowboy night, good/evil night (that time Tom and Rosie came as a two-headed baby), and many, many more.  This crowd will run with anything you throw at them.
We always dine in the home of one of the couples; rotating 6 times a year.  One time we tried to go out which was embarrassing because we're very loud and the manager of the restaurant had to ask us to turn it down a notch or six.  Must have been when we burst into song which happens often.
We also have trouble taking turns when it comes to sharing a thought or story.  Imagine at least 6 different conversations going on at the same time.  Not for the faint of heart.
A while back someone brought a "talking stick" with them and thought that might solve the problem.  Yeah, that lasted about three minutes which in "dinner club time" converts to a decade.  Must be someone was in the bathroom. 
No people pictures in this post because my battery died before I got everyone and I don't want to hurt anyone's feeling (Jim and Becky) so you'll just have to imagine how terrific we all looked last night, eh?
In closing (I sound like a keynote speaker, don't I?) I must tell you how much fun we have had over the years with this crew.  Good friends and good food is a combo that simply can not be beat.

Bad Habits/Addictions

Hi, my name is Ellen and I'm a lip biter.  There - I've said it.  Now everyone knows.  I don't have to hide anymore. 
I bite the inside of my lips - often moving to the inside cheek area.  I've been doing this all my life with periods (sometimes years) of remission. 
Why do I bite?  It's not a nervous habit.  I wish I knew.  I'm blaming my tongue.  My tongue is the culprit.  It roams around in there until it feels a rough patch and decides my teeth should get busy and clear that spot.  And the biting begins.
This habit gets so bad sometimes that I then have rather serious pain in my TMJ - tempero-mandibular joint.  That's where the jaws join right under your ears.  I haven't let it get to that point in a long time.
To help me when I'm in "super-bite mode" I've had a mouth guard made by my dentist.  Not the big, ungainly thing that boxers wear - mine is very thin and practically invisible.  I can do everything while wearing it except eat. 
I don't have the bite guard in right now and I'm biting.
That sentence that I just typed is a perfect example of how this habit of mine is more of an addiction.
I quit gnawing every day about 100 times.  I hate that it has such control over my life.  I know it causes wrinkles in my upper lip and who needs more of those?  I know it distorts my face and nobody wants to look at that.  I actually think my self control is weaker when it comes to my lips than it is with regard to chocolate chip cookies.  Now you know how serious it is.
I thought I had it licked (no pun intended) in Florida.  I went two or three weeks with nary a nibble and then one day I caught myself goin' for it - failure.
In a small way (extremely small) I sympathize with smokers.  I understand nail biters - my cousins in crime.
Ok, I've talked myself into it - I'll go brush my teeth and put in the mouth guard.  I hate that I have to rely on it; like a crutch, but I do.
Good thing I never took up crack, eh?

Sticky Situations

If you've lived long enough and you've been paying attention, you have experienced a sticky situation - or two.

1)  Two of your good friends don't like each other.
2)  Someone you know uses the "N" word in a casual conversation.
3)  A co-worker tells a "gay" joke and then laughs their ass off.
4)  Dodging a social commitment while living in a small town.
5)  Trying to deal with a "friendship failure" while bumping into the former friend in the grocery store.
6)  Working with someone you previously respected only to be disappointed in their ethics.

I've experienced all of the above and many, many more.  If you were looking for me to help you resolve a sticky situation - keep looking.  I've struggled with all of them except the "gay" joke thing.  That guy really pissed me off and I called him out on it.  I'm sure he's still an obnoxious homophobe and I've had to be in his presence since then but I avoid him like the plague.
Dodging the social commitment isn't one I've had to deal with very often but in keeping with the honest pledge of my blog (Did I make a pledge?  If not, I do right now), I will say - it has happened.  Being asked to do something and fibbing up an excuse and then having to hide in your house - or sneaking out of town so you won't be seen.  Feels like middle school, doesn't it?
The last sticky situation is writing about sticky situations in a blog with your real name in the title and living in a small town. ha!

Dance Like Nobody's Watchin'

I love to dance.  I really love to dance.  Besides the greatest work out ever and all the friends I've made through Jazzericse, the dancing is why I love it so much.
I have to say - if we're being perfectly honest here - and I am, of course - that I'm a pretty good dancer.  I have moves and I'm not afraid to use them.
My husband is not as in love with the dance as I am.  He'll get out there for a few songs but there's always a bit of coaxing involved.  I don't really need him, though.  I never hesitate, even for a moment, to dance by myself.
When I dance in public it never occurs to me that people are watching me.  Oops, I said I was going to be honest, didn't I.  Ok, then, maybe - just maybe it enters my mind that one or two people on the side lines are thinking, "Wow, check her out, that one with the white hair can really move."
Yeah, the "white hair" has been making me re-think the whole "shake your money-maker" thing.
You've all been there; either in a bar or an outdoor festival and watched (while cringing) an older lady dancing.  She has her shimmy going full blast and the butt shakin' has gotten out of control.  You're trying not to look but it's like a car wreck - you can't not look.  All the while feeling embarrassed for the poor thing.
I don't want to be her.
So I need to find a happy medium.  I'm still going to use my shimmy at Jazzercise because, people, I'm not kidding - it's award winning.  The world should not be denied. 
However, I don't want to look like some old fuddy-duddy out there on the floor either.
Looks like I'll need to put in a little practice time in front of the bedroom mirror, eh?  How's that for a pathetic picture.

Suicide

I know - this topic is a departure for me but it's been sitting in the back of my mind, pushing its way forward.  I've been thinking about putting my thoughts regarding suicide in my blog for a long time and this morning I
woke up to the news that Bobby Kennedy Jr.'s wife, mother of four, has died by suicide.  I guess that was my cue.
It's difficult to write about suicide because it has touched me personally - more than once. 
Two very good friends died by suicide; one with a terminal disease and the other suffered terribly with mental illness. 
The saddest death was a young family member.  Another victim of mental illness.
I understand wanting to die.  It has never crossed my mind but I understand it.  I don't condemn anyone who takes that action.  My heart breaks for the feelings of hopelessness they must endure.
I've always supported physician assisted suicide.  Alas, we don't have that option here in Michigan so people are forced to break the law.  It becomes some kind of covert operation.  Doesn't seem fair.
In my capacity as a hospice volunteer in bereavement I listened to a grieving mother talk about her son's death by suicide.  Her heart was broken and her voice was full of tears.  She said something that was very thought provoking and it has stayed with me since.  The term "committed suicide" comes from the fact that it was considered a crime many years ago.  A crime?  Really?  How do you punish someone who has "committed" suicide? 
I've tried to not use the term but it's difficult - we're so used to saying it.  "Took his/her own life."  "Died by his/her own hand."  "Suicided."  That one pops up on spell check because it's not a real word.  I will continue, however, to leave "committed" out.
My family member was a gentle soul.  When I think of her as a little girl, I think of a tiny bird.  As she became an adult, she was still a tiny bird - almost fragile.  Her smile wasn't tiny, though.  It was big and beautiful and reached her eyes.  We just didn't see it very often.  We watched the ups and downs and hoped for brighter days every time life looked good.  There were so many downs, though.  Too many.
I hope to never see the face of a former student on the news because she walked into the swampy forest and never came out.  I hope to never hear of an elderly family friend who disappeared into a local lake leaving his dog at the water's edge - waiting.  I hope.
I've heard many people refer to suicide as selfish.  I don't agree.  I've heard others say it is the coward's way out.  Bullshit.  It is a way to end the pain and anguish.  A desperate way.  A sad way but their way.