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There’s a trend in the Boomlennial world that’s just catching on way too fast. Gray hair, yes, but I’ve done that wench down to the roots. This is serious stuff. So serious. When I go out to dinner, I study the menu. Gage my hunger. Mentally calculate my caloric intake for the day, and look for the twenty-three calorie entree. Order accordingly. Of course, sometimes my choice ends up being twenty-three million calories, and that’s all right! I take the extra home in a nice, little ‘to go’ box. Where it sits in the fridge for two weeks until I throw it out. Or give it to the dog. Unless it’s chocolate. Dogs should not eat chocolate. Anyway, enough about my dysfunction. The Boomlennial trend is to go out to dinner in order to have lunch the next day. I keep seeing people ordering apps, entrees, dessert. Soup to nuts. Okay, maybe not soup. That’s messy. But there is a container for that. The point being, they don’t really want dinner. They want stacks of food ‘to go’. As if the cupboards are bare and they’ll starve tomorrow. They’ll take two bites of the appetizer and ask for ‘the box’. Two bites of steak. Now ‘the box’. See what I’m saying here?? Don’t think they are really enjoying the dinner, just wanting the ‘to go’. Then of course they need ‘the bag’ to put all the ‘to go’ in. Geesh. Just enjoy you’re dinner!?&$!! And go out to lunch tomorrow if your cupboards are truly bare. They’re not. Remember the time when you’d ask for a ‘doggy bag’ and then cringe in shame because everyone knew you were going to eat it?? I’d take steak bones and have to explain that they really were for the dog. And if they’d look it was evident I already sucked every last piece of meat off. Which probably made the waitress feel even worse that I’d be making bland soup the next day. I’d like to think the new trend was cross generational, but it’s not. Younger people aren’t thinking about what they will eat tomorrow. Until tomorrow. Where they are probably wishing they had the rest of that spaghetti. A couple next to me one evening, (Boomlennials duh), ordered a pizza. Wise choice. Probably okay to take some of that home. But then they asked for bread when they ordered. Never touched it, of course, but wanted to take it ‘to go’. Probably didn’t eat that pizza cold for breakfast. Just a generational thing. And none of us lived through the depression so can’t even use that excuse. Viva la dinner!! And walk away without balancing boxes of food that probably won’t even be good the next day. I used to work at a place that used many volunteers during the year. At Christmastime, they would have a big thanks you party with appetizers and desserts. Good stuff. People rsvp’d and the caterer planned accordingly. However, they didn’t calculate the age of the participants and they’d run out of food early. The Boomlennials brought zip lock bags and loaded up. Really. Cheese bag, cookie bag, and yum will those celery sticks be good at home another day. Couldn’t concentrate on enjoying the evening. Still shaking my head. And wishing I had some leftovers in the fridge for lunch. Hmmmm. Maybe I need to rethink this. #whoisthesillywillynow

I feel like lately I’ve been committing all kinds of social faux pas. Being a person who enjoys real manners, and grammar (#loser), I just need to check myself. I’m a blurter (yes that’s a word, kind of, it’s not). So for me to say something that Others think is inappropriate is kind of the norm. I usually don’t agree that what I said was that egregious, but if I’ve offended someone, damn. Not what I wanted to do. I was telling a Boomlennial friend about my new vacation house. She almost gasped, stared me straight in the eyes, and told me that area was her happy place. Hmmmm. What does that even mean?? And did I offend her or steal something? Who knew? I almost wanted to apologize because it seemed like one of those notorious gaffes of mine. Then I even felt guilty because it’s not really my happy place, yet I appropriated it from her. Maybe I’m overthinking this (maybe?) but the conversation stuck in my mind. Of course, now I want a happy place and just not feeling it. I enjoy a lot of places, but do they truly make me happy??? My closet makes me quite happy. It’s big and has wayyy too many clothes in it, in wayyy to many sizes. Just walking in it sometimes does make me smile, though. Unless I’m heading to the jumbo section and then it just makes me sad. Recently, watching TV has made me unnaturally happy. I always kind of, sorta, maybe liked TV but would rather read in my free time. But now. Sigh. Can’t wait to meet back up with my TV friends. The shows are just too good, and no commercials. I had a power outage and thought my best friend took a major hit, and was shaky all day till it was fixed. Whew. Although, I did get very mad at it. A young interviewer was asking someone to explain ‘so Grandma would understand it’ about a major engineering feat while constructing this massive building. No, Grandma did not understand it, but neither did you, you little dweeb. Bet math wasn’t your major, journalism student. Comment took me right out of my happy place. Would have loved to read the negative emails. None from me. Of course not. That would be petty. I need to redirect my emotions into something more constructive and happier. Will go sit in the closet. And stare at my skinny jeans. And ponder why people wear mountain climbing clothes to the office. In the summer. I just don’t know….

The ultimate marathon is in full swing, and I’m committed to the challenge. Not going to let a kinky hip or a few too many bonbons slow me down. (BTW what even IS a bonbon?? And yet it just rolled off my tongue.). I met a couple Boomlennial friends for dinner one evening, and it left me scratching my head. Not really, but the cliches are front and center today. Friend A, now known as the completely gray one, always had the most beautiful hair. It grew like mad, so always had a new style every time I saw her. Short, long, shagged, bobbed, and everything in between. Dark, shiny brown. Friend A still has a cute style, but oh my the gray. She bowed out at mile twenty. I guess when your hair does grow that fast it’s hard to keep up with the color, but I would make it a full time job. No retirement yet. She likes it, so as much as I want to say it’s none of my business, it is. I’m fighting for all Boomlennials here. Finish Strong. Friend B…. (Pretty sure she doesn’t read my blogue, I hope, I hope). This illness, that illness. Downsized everything. I know that can be a positive, but it just seems too mile fifteen. When she said she can’t drive at night anymore, all I could think was WTF. Yes you can. Just too easy to play the old people game sometimes. Us cruising Boomlennials want to Finish Strong, despite small challenges creeping in the way. There are many health issues that are forced on us, but having a positive mindset gets you to the next mile. Plug plug along. Maybe because I like being the leader of the pack, I do what I can to not run in your stink. Getting to that next mile marker. Old people just make me cranky and that’s not very Boomlennial of me. When in doubt, I just need to remember who I am and straighten my crown. On my shiny, blond hair.

I am still reliving a Grande Celebration from over a week ago. (Add an ‘e’ and it’s even Grander). My dearest and new dearest had the best nuptials I’ve ever experienced. Not just day of, weekend of! Way to go!!! Months before, I was getting a bit skeptical. Sometimes when you work so hard to make a great event, it never quite lives up to the hype. (Remember The Weekend at the 2021 Super Bowl?? Me either). However, the dearests got it all right and then some. They promised a weekend of love, family, friends, and celebration. Check check check check. We all got manis and pedis together. Even my Manfriend, who was new to that world, got into it and rejoiced in his shiny toes. (Okay, he didn’t actually rejoice but just testing if he’s still reading my blogue). Nothing bonds people like everyone seeing their grizzly feet. We hung out at the same hotel, and lamented together when our rooms weren’t ready. I still feel bad about crashing my dearests room and using his towels to clean up before the rehearsal and dinner. I mean it’s okay if he smells, right?? I could go on and on about all the fun and frolic, but do you really want to hear about my first time wearing false eyelashes?? I mean, who doesn’t, but a story for another day. Between family tragedy’s, Covid, and life trying to chew us up, for one wonderful weekend it was all behind us and we enjoyed this bubble. Even the weather gave the happy couple a wink and said well done my friends. Well done.

We’ve all been hearing about the new magical line of weight loss drugs. Once used for Type 2 Diabetes, it was discovered that people on them were also losing weight without much effort. So the geniuses figured out the key ingredient in them could be marketed solely for weight loss. Hallelujah!! Tryer that I am, I couldn’t wait weight weight to partake. Took a bit of maneuvering with my insurance company because they are quite expensive. I actually had to do some behind the scenes hobnobbing which even impressed my doctor. He said he’d prescribe it, but good luck getting it approved haha wink wink. I do have some wiley skills after all. Who knew? (Me). On my wayyyyy! Very excited to have found the holy grail of permanent weight loss. Then the book of side effects arrived with the injectable. The once a week injectable, which means if you are sick, you’re stuck. I’ll spare you the grisly details, but after two months, I had enough. Unlike the old school diet drugs I took that made you feel terrific, these did not. No high flying energy here. Quite the opposite. Yes, you lose weight. They make you feel full quickly after eating. And keep you full for longer which is the MO. But…. I think they were designed by skinny people. People with a weight problem can eat when they are full. I truly believe naturally thin people don’t do this. Which is why they are thin. So you really have to be highly motivated to consume less just like you would on a regular dieting plan. But I’m not sure the public is quite getting that part. Nothing magical, just a tool to help you eat less. And if you eat that whole cheeseburger, ugh. Page five, six, and seven of that side effect book. Not to mention weakness, tiredness, lethargy. Boy how I missed Dr. Hunters pills that kept you up for days with a smile on your face. (Biggest regret in life throwing those away….). Anyway, I stuck it out for two months, lost some lbs which is always nice, but at some point you miss feeling good. Plain and simple. It’s like you’re going through a treatment for a horrible disease, which obesity can be, but I’m not quite ready to admit to that. I still have a stash, and not hitting the trash just yet. Lesson learned. But there’s got to be a better way. The invasion of the body snatchers wasn’t the panacea I had hoped for. Will keep looking of course!! Once a tryer, always a tryer. I did learn something really invaluable. Turns out you can just buy a birthday cake anytime and eat it yourself. Nobody checks. #gettingmysenseofhumorback #keptitoutofthetoilet

Not eating chocolate for a few weeks has really paid off. Or my mind is playing those tricks on me again. I’ve rationalized all (some) of my destructive behaviors, and coming out a winner winner chocolate dinner. Chicken. I mean chicken dinner. I’m heading to the beach, and ready to roll with the tide. As if this floating machine has a choice. The beach is the only place where salt lowers my blood pressure. It’s good for you!! So good. So good. I never met a sunset I didn’t like, and I’m going to keep watching until I’m proved wrong. I’ve always believed the sun is a wonderfully powerful elixir, and until some horrible growth proves me wrong, I will continue to partake. Every stage of my life has benefited from big yellow. Acne runs and hides. My hair lightens and brightens, and actually thickens in the ocean. I think it absorbs salt from the water. I make the rules here. And I just heard Sunny D is now a vodka drink! Those marketers sure know how to grow-up. Talk about a health benefit! Added bonus there my Boomlennial brethren. The sand also does it’s due diligence by giving me a nice, little pedicure as it smooths out the rough edges. And keeps me walking comfortably barefoot. Ahhhh. There goes the positive vibes in my mind. If you read Winnie the Pooh, and you should, the advice he gives is pretty basic. Simple. Practical. Sensical. Like the beach. Mental health for dummies. Shell yeah!

If you brilliant Boomlennials haven’t heard about this yet, Google it. No don’t. I understood it until I hit up G, then I was underwater. Like most things that relate to technology or business, I get it, but let me take the multiple choice test. I saw it explained in lay woman terms on a talk show, and it is fascinating. And scary. The best way I can explain it is artificial intelligence that is also human. (Don’t quote me on that.). It’s a chat bot that knows what you want to say. Or something like that. For instance, if I wanted it to write my Boomlennial blogue, it could. Well maybe not, because I am multi-layered and endlessly fascinating. But I could ask it to write me a paper on what’s up with fifth graders, and it would. Immediately. Or any subject. It is an endless data base that seems to also have emotion. Or insight. Students are using it of course to write all their papers, but I heard teachers are using it even more for lesson plans, better ideas, and finally to know more then their students. It’s a giant encyclopedia that might not be one-hundred percent correct, but can spew out information faster then you can read it. I’m probably not explaining this right (probably???), but you’ll be hearing about it soon enough. All the tech companies are developing their own version, so wow. All I can say is keep up Boomlennials. I’m always wondering what the next big tech gizmo is going to be, but wonder no more. Just trying to explain it is beyond me, and you know that normally I know everything. Most things. (Everything). I kind of would like it to write my blogue, but what if it was better than mine???? Forget I ever mentioned this make believe, silly Chatwhatever. What do you call a fish with no eyes?? A fsh. Take that chatterbox!#$&#!!

I am so getting a dinosaur. I’m working on day twelve without chocolate, and I already lost hearing in my left eye. Tis that time of year (again, again) where the diet bug is looming large. As much as I like to pretend that I’m focusing on eating healthy, the body wants what the body wants. And it usually does not want anything low calorie, or green, or coming from the outside perimeter of the grocery store. I fight it constantly, and sometimes slay the dragon. I pat myself on the back for finally having things under control. I use the phrase ‘patting myself on the back’ loosely. Let’s say upper neck. I heard that fifty percent of children don’t eat a vegetable daily. Hilarious! I bet that stat is even higher for adults. Unless you count french fries and carrot cake. Just too much temptation out there. Back to me. There are all kind of great things happening in my world that would be a lot more enjoyable if I were less heavy. As all my millions of followers know, I never use the three letter F word. Very demeaning, and one of the few derogatory terms that is still socially acceptable. Movies and sitcoms still think it’s oh-so-funny to have a large character and make fun of them. Haha. Slap my ample thigh now and guffaw. You understand what is happening here, right?? Lack of chocolate. Cranky pants. Please don’t tell me to just have one piece. Guffaw guffaw. Would like to live in that world but don’t really see it happening. I’m also thinking this boomlennial population is getting less free range as their metabolism is slowing down. Some of those praying mantis types are looking more bubble bee these days. Of course that brings me much glee. (Remember, the no chocolate speaking here.). Will white knuckle through another day, and hope I don’t naw on them. Not believing Murphy’s Law: If something can go wrong, it will. Have you heard of Cole’s Law?? Thinly sliced cabbage. Say is out loud if you’re not laughing yet. Still have my sense of humor. Ish. How does the moon cut his hair?? He e-clipses it. Funny stuff. #weakwithhunger #goalsgoalsgoals #wantadinosaur

Except it’s not. It’s February. And Valentines Day, sigh. So why are the Ides at my back? Of course, I had to google Ides to find out what I’m even talking about, and I don’t think it’s Julius Caesar getting assassinated. But since I like how it sounds, I’ll continue. The whole winter has had this Marchish feel to it. And if you’ve been keeping up with my fascinating blogue, you know I hate the color of March. Hence, the madness. I’ve been studying my house in bad lighting because of this March color, and I don’t like what I see. Somehow, it’s becoming an old persons house. This high-steppin Boomlennial does not like that!*&$! About fifteen years ago, I did a complete remodel. After living in the same house for twenty years, it was time. They say three moves is the same as a fire, but neither of those options over the years was my MO. So I ‘moved’ out, packed up or threw out. Emptied the house completely. Redid some bathrooms and kitchen, and lots-oh-cosmetics. Came back to a bright, fresh start. I loved it! Felt like a new house, but also the house I loved. Now. Now. Fifteen years later it’s getting tarnished again, and looking dated. And messy. Moss is growing back. (Not really, but metaphorically speaking. I’m not a bum.). Marie Kondo, a professional organizer (Really?? That’s a thing?) wrote a book. In it, she has six rules. Basics. But number six said to look at objects and see if they spark joy. If they don’t, heave ho. Good advice. A lot of things in my house Did spark joy, but after years they barely get a howdy do. What to do, what to do. Rekindle my romance with them?? Start a fire? Talk about our good times together? I used to make fun of ‘old’ people houses, but just a tad concerned that I’m heading in that direction. (Heading, I said. Plenty of wiggle room there.). Really just need to get outside in the sunshine. Oh, I’m a hoot. March madness has gotten to me. I need a chocolate heart. #lovethestuffyourewith

I love your eggs. I’ve been in that post-holiday funk where I’m really ready to attack the New Year. But, am I?? My mind says yes, but my robust body is stuck in that well that’s no fun mentality. The talk shows are throwing out the healthy year, healthy you rhetoric, and I listen listen and want to pump my fists and cheer, but those dueling wolves are at it again. There’s a great Cherokee parable about two wolves living inside us. One is all the bad stuff-evil, greed, anger, jealousy, resentment, and all the nasties. The other is the good stuff-joy, peace, kindness blah blah blah. So a little boy asks the wise Indian what wolf wins? Wait for it…..wait for it…. The one you feed. Get it? So my angst is trying to fend off the nasty wolf. I started journaling daily, figuring if you send out the positives into the universe, it will manifest itself like the gurus like to preach. But I’m realizing as the days go on, my writings have a tinge of growling in them. Come on, wolf! Give me break! No more jotting down evidence of my downturn. This time of year is always fraught with the dark uglies outside, so probably not the best time to try to change the world. Or yourself. Patience is probably in the good wolf’s arsenal. And wisdom. And perseverance. And strength. And hope. And truth. Hey, maybe I got this! I am enough. Actually, I’m probably over qualified, but let’s start out humble. Not today Devil. Not today.