Author: Karebare42@aol.com

my metabolism.  It’s that time of year and all the new diet books and chit chat shows are just giving me too much credit but thanks. The latest book says if you fast for twelve hours a day you’ll lose weight.  Call me crazy here but don’t most people do that??  If you have dinner at seven, twelve hours will pass until you eat again or am I missing out on that luscious 4am  snack?  Of course there’s always that evening binge or those glasses of Chardonnay that majically appear in my hand well into the evening, but on a whole I’d say I’m generally into a fourteen hour fast and nothin.  The obit on my metabolism was written long ago.  Nothing gets better with age except your perception of how wonderful you used to be.  I joined Weight Watchers for the first time when I was eighteen and have been a member most of my adulthood.  There are those who might think that is a failed relationship  but au contraire.  They continue to be my best buddy and have not overestimated my metabolism, relationships, common sense, and get my love/need/want for food.  Every diet works.  (Okay maybe not that dumb twelve hour fast thing).  But I think the Boomlennial has finally conceded that we need to live life.  Which of course includes being healthy and digging chocolate and trying our best to keep all the bad things at bay.   WW has grown and evolved with me, which includes doing your homework and not being complacent, and being a very good Boomlennial.  Once you stop fighting there ceases to be a war.  Mindfulness.  A very good word which makes me feel very Oprahesque and not the one yelling during award shows but the old school one that pulled a wagon of fat across the stage.  Being in the moment.  Making thoughtful decision.  Even the bad ones.  Very Boomlennialesque.

#newbeginnings#freshstart#resolutions#overitsigh.  The optimism of the new year is over.  Almost a week into it and I still haven’t lost twenty pounds.  The new calendar is still under the tree.  Covered in dirty needles.  Did manage to throw all the sweets out and not dig them back out of the trash so maybe should give myself credit for that.  Scratching for positivity here……  But as the year is wearing on I’m getting cranky.  And some of you are just ticking me off.   The women broadcasting from New York during a cyclone bomb (sounds like something I’m ordering tonight shots!)  dressed in sleeveless summer dresses.  Just seems dumb.  People are stupidly waving at you through the windows with nothing showing but their frost bitten eyes and you are flexing your toned arms.  If it was sweltering outside and you showed up in a sweater and turtleneck it would look absurd during the summer.  Get where I’m going with this??  Just annoys me.  Probably have white heels on your bare legs.  If you want credibility don’t cover the frigid blizzard dressed for an umbrella drink on the veranda.   I know this isn’t a topic that requires this much space but I’m trying to deflect the No Names Please people who tick me off.   If I’m your boss don’t argue with me.   If I’m your mother don’t argue with me.  If I’m buying something from you don’t argue with me.   If you’re serving me food don’t argue with me.  And so it goes.  My dog pooped in the house because it’s too cold for his big hairy *ss to squat outside.  Not forgiving this.  There is as much salt inside the house as on the driveway.  Nope not happy.  Schools are closed which I really shouldn’t care about but I know the mall and the ski slopes will be packed and it annoys me.  Why??   Deep thinking tells me that all the things put off during ‘the holidays’ must now be addressed.  And I still don’t want to.  I want to sit and look at the beautiful snow and dig those cookies out of the trash.  Only the clean ones.

The weather and discussion of it has gotten a bad wrap.  There are those (not the enlightened, sophisticated Boomlennial I’m sure) who use it for conversation when they got nothin or needing to change the subject.  How bout those Browns??  My go to.  When the Big Chill in the air chit chat comes up I start sweating with anticipation of more to come.  What about the Polar Vortex (also my late fishes name, may he rest in toilet bowl pieces) which was an attention grabber a few years ago.  And still excites me as I scan the frozen tundra maps hoping it makes a reappearance.  But generally people don’t really want to get into it.  I know.  How crazy is that??  Certainly not polite conversation in passing.  Let’s dig in.  What does it mean?  What are the repercussions?  When one of my wee dearests is visiting I’m pretty relaxed in my pretend parenting.  Are those scissors sharp enough for you or would a knife be better?  The dog doesn’t really need a tail.  He’s not a boat after all.  But shall we play in lotsandlots of water until you and the floor are soaked?  (Good thing my X follower isn’t reading anymore or I could be busted.).  BUT….when my wee dearest plays with my weather station that’s when I may or may not lose it.  (Just in case X is sneaking a peek.)  I need to know the temp in Akron, not Atlanta!?$!  And what is the wind speed I wonder in a panic.  The screen changes color with every ten degree threshold so when it’s blazing green I know something’s amiss when we’ve been tettering on a pale to vibrant purple the last few weeks.  Thankfully I can get it readjusted but there is some extremely important information gone in that thirty seconds. Whew.  So next time someone says it’s fricken cold out maybe it’s just a cry for help and they want to have more intimate discussion about it.  Or I need to get inside and realize the time for outsideish bloguing is over.  Must get inside and check what color temp makes your hands numb.  All fascinating stuff.

So now that we’ve made it through round two of ‘the holidays’ we should be ready for more meat.  And I don’t mean turkey, ham, or lobster which seemed like a good idea at the time. Who knew that days later the fridge would reek, my hands are in shards, and my dog’s breath is very suspect.  No pine scent to be had.  I know I’ve let my million followers down (picked up a new one a few weeks ago) and he tried to be diplomatic in his review.  Interesting.  Different perspective.  I know what all that means so probably don’t have him back.  Which is ok.  He can still say he knew me when and I’ll sign my book for him.  In pencil.  Now that I’m totally off target I need to focus.  #notmetoo.   I have not been sexually harassed.  And I’m offended.  You like my dress?  Really?  That’s it!!  No comment about how sexy it makes me look??  Throw me a bone.  At least say it brings out the color of my eyes for gosh sakes.  Of course I’m being an ahole here but that’s kind of my schtick. There are, of course, many degrees of harassment and legitimate complaints but what happens in 1964 stays in 1964.  We were not a nice people then.  Different time, different place.  We were evolving and becoming civilized and I’m quite proud of who we are.  Woman have come a long way, baby, and if they don’t be careful they are going to face some backlash.  You want to be one of the guys?  Included in the boardroom and golf course and for after dinner cigars?  It wasn’t too long ago that men would retreat to another room so they could joke and laugh and not worry that they might be offensive.  So be careful of what you are trying to accomplish or you’re going to lose your place in line.  I, for one, don’t want to be sent back to 1964.  Of course you men cannot utter a word of this but I got your back.  I know you are not the fiends the media is trying to portray you as.  The actions of a few should not be representative of the masses.  And to almost quote Pamela Anderson (laughing to think I’ve come to the place where she’s my voice of reason)  when a man invites you to a hotel room for a meeting, shows up at the door in a robe, and you go in, that’s on you.  Take some responsibility.  That’s a use use situation.  This, of course, is a subject that can’t be covered in one brilliant blogue so go back to Facebook and look at everyone’s magical Christmas and beautiful families and the cookies with little chocolate kisses and make those resolutions.  I resolve to use paragraphs and not say of course so often.  I always have lofty goals of course.

but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine.  This is a hard post to write mainly because No Names Please is a rule, and the Boomlennial is a total rule follower hahahahahaha.  So I will just talk about my Manfriend(s) and my long weekend without him(s).  I’m not new to the being alone game, but when I went to revisit it after a long spell of coupling it was just a bit rattling.  I have such fascinating stories to tell and the fish that has lived five years floating on his back just isn’t a good companion.  (A very good pet BTW.  Just throw food at his head every couple days.).  The dog cries when I yell at the Buckeyes and runs when I yell at the Browns.  We will analyze my anger issues another time.  Fortunately, sports gets the brunt of it so you are all pretty safe.  For now.  So my Manfriend(s) went to visit his family(s) out of town for Thanksgiving which is what that day is for.  And to be thankful that it is only one day of massive eating and smiling and watching the parade which calls me and yes I still get excited when Santa make his appearance.  Which probably does explain why I was watching alone.  Weirdo.  But my manfriend(s) is ok with that.  Something to be grateful for.  He is ok with the smart stuff, and the cray cray stuff, and the boring stuff of which there is none.  Ever.  All fascinating.  Manfriend(s) is back and I guess all the cliches about being away are true but I would never use a cliche.  How cliche.  Manfriend(s) funs me, calms me, strokes me (eeeeewwwww) and lets me tell him(s) anything while biting his(s) tongue.  And I think he would say the same about his Ladyfriend(s).  We(s) do not take it for granted this late in the game to make this connection.  Yahtzee!

Not a good day.  It has come to this.  Just when I thought it wasn’t possible.  I have lost a follower.  I got the whole story why and should have taken notes which I suggested because I knew alllll those reasons would escape me days later which they have darn bloodies.  Which is really okay because now I can make it all up and since they are my X they won’t see my diatribe and I can certainly run with a bit of truth.  Which might have been the point hmmmmm.  My X may or may not be one of my dearests.  See, no names please.  And I may or may not reference them when blahing on and on about nothing which is pretty much what this blogue does.  Just a place holder until that book deal comes through and the Today show.  Hope they do my hair and makeup.  And have good lighting.  And book me on the same day as George Clooney and Brett Favre.  See??  About absolutely nothing.  But my X feels like he/she may have been called out or blah blahed about which may or may not be true,  but when you have Almost a million followers I’m not sure if that dotted line leads there.  The Boomlennial has a whole-lots-oh-characters in the book of life and can dig one out of the archives to make a point when necessary.  And let’s face it.  None of us are getting more normal as the ants go marching one by one hurrah hooray.  I will miss my X not being here, though, because they are being deprived of so much enriching blah blah and that makes me sad.  I’m sure Matt Lauer will want to explore that further….

Life says:  ‘She did this’.  Books are where things are explained to you.  And we need that.  We are terrible at drawing our own conclusions on others motivations, yet we think in absolutes.  I always say there are three sides to every story.  His side, her side, and the truth.  Yet we are quick to believe and make judgements without finishing the book.  The media has blown that into a whole new level of absurdity.  And monotony.  They take a ‘breaking’ story and rehash it for days.  Old news yet it never seems to get to the back pages.  I’ll wait till the book comes out.  Now one absolutely absolute whole truth and nothing but the truth is that there are two types of people, readers and non-readers.  And they will never understand each other.  The brilliant, interesting readers cannot understand how/why someone doesn’t like to read books.  I know, right??   And the non-reader finds it boring and will never get how/why someone finds that pleasurable.  Maybe I just need life explained to me.  Every book I read is non-fiction. Even the fiction books.  I believe it all.  Two paragraphs into a book I know if I’m going to like it and Believe.  Steven King’s Pet Cemetary still makes me look at my animals weirdly and doubt them.  A good book carries you to places you’re never going to be.  All real to me.  And always there for me.  No judgements.

Yep hear me out.  Christmas in December is off.  Done.  Not sponge worthy.  But the November celebration is so fun!!!  In November you can go to the grocery store and buy all those Ziploc containers with red and green snowflakes and pretend you’re going to fill them with scrumptious cookies for everyone knowing that the oven will remain clean and like new.  Kleenex in cute little boxes with reindeer wearing ornament necklaces.  Adorbs.  By June the frolic gets a bit tiring when allergies replace colds but for now I’m excited when I sneeze.  The ‘Limited Addition’ snowflake shaped Ritz crackers are so worth the buildup.  Won’t be finding those in December my friend.   My mailbox is leaning with the weight of all those catalogs I have no intention of shopping from, but will plan my new shiny wardrobe for all those parties I won’t be invited to.  Can’t put up a tree yet or it will become naked and fire bait soon enough.  I am so into this November holiday season!!!    And then.  And then.  It’s December and people start asking me confusing  questions.  “Are you  READY FOR CHRISTMAS????”  said with a panicked look in their eyes.  Nope, haven’t even started training yet.  I am ready for some football, however, and intend to watch a lot of it until it vanishes poof.  “Do you have your SHOPPING ALLLL DONE”??????  Oh yea.  Two hours on Amazon takes care of that.  In a world where people drop a G for a new phone because it has moving emojis, they aren’t waiting for me to fill their every wish.  My dearests have enough socks and underwear.  Even my wee dearests end up with toooooo much because at least their stuff is cool and they are still growing.  And not just Boomlennial sideways.  Will give it my best to make sure they stay unjaded and continue to believe that Santa sees you when you’re sleeping, and knows when you’re awake, and knows if you’ve been bad or good so be good for goodness sake!  Now that song is just mean.  Won’t be belting that out this November.  Just going to sit back and let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.  And watch the pretty colored leaves pile up.

This whole subject might not be of total interst to my half million male followers, but it should be.  If you have any females in your life it is of most importance.  Okay, second most.  Are you still here??  I’m talking about black tights season.  I’ve waited all spring and summer for this and not just for me but the women in my world who could use a little something something.    I’ve found it of extra importance this year because my pup/cow likes to ram into my legs creating blotches and bloody holes that nobody needs to see.  This week has been particularly rough because he’s wearing the cone of shame after a nip snip that he should be proud of since it shows all those b*tches that he is a caring, responsible male.  But being that I’m the only b*tch in his life he has been battering me with that cone and it hurts!  All those half moon bruises aren’t making me respect his decision.  Black tights ahhhh.  Pantyhose are out of style but that is something I’m hoping comes back and I’m counting on men to encourage their ladies to wear them.  As much as the Boomlennial woman and her younger compadres might think they look good naked legged, they don’t.  Tatoos can be attractive, but when they have matching lines and lumps and stuff not out of an ink bottle it’s just kind of ewwwww.  Then the lumpiness moves up to the a$$ which could just benefit from something to support all that jiggle.  Princess Kate always has a nice pair of shiny legs and should be our role model.  Who never wanted to be a princess, right?   So join the movement.  Black Tights Matter.

 

-n.  the moment when Sunday stops feeling like a Sunday and the anxiety of Monday kicks in.

We all know that feeling.  I didn’t do my homework yet.  The kids didn’t do their homework yet.  I didn’t finish my presentation.  What am I going to wear?  I hope I get the flu.  I already have a stomach ache……    we all know what I’m talking about here.  Along the way you might have liked school or your job but the mood just takes a turn.  My dearest little T told me he doesn’t go to school on the S days and him and I need to schedule a day together.  After I got done marveling that my favorite boy is already more mature then I am,  it got me thinking that he is already looking forward to weekends.  And probably has had a few Smondays.  I’m also aware that sometimes the S days come with their own stresses.  Being unstructured can be oh-lot-of-work.  Now I have to MAKE PLANS.  Saying I want to relax and do nothing sounds good until you have nothing to do and that most certainly is not relaxing for the Boomlennial.  We outgrew all that hippiedom darn.   Retirement used to be the goal for many but that model doesn’t work that well for a lot of  us.  You love the S days because they are special.  When faced with only S days you find out you’re just not that interesting/interested and your dog really doesn’t need to be walked that much.  So acknowledge that Smonday can be a good thing because you are still diggin the F day.  TGI!!!