Skip to main content

Five Things I Love to Hate


1.     Kale – and all those other odd-ball vegetables that were not part of my dinner plate until Dr. Oz showcased them on his program. They are hard to like. I’ve learned to stew kale with onions, garlic, and chicken stock, and it tastes okay, but it will NEVER replace the affection I feel for a can of Del Monte corn swimming in a stick of melted butter. 
2.    Reality TV – no, no, and no.  I am not interested in watching people prostitute their private lives for the sake of TV entertainment, unless of course, we start televising the lives of our elected politicians.  Now there is an intriguing idea. 
3.    Politics – and the shysters that run our government.  I usually vote for the candidate with the least amount of dirt and the most amount of integrity (or what passes for a semblance of it). Too bad we can’t stew them with onions and garlic in chicken stock to make them more palatable.  
4.    Exercise – and dieting and a slow metabolism and aging – all the stuff that makes it difficult for me to enjoy my golden years with a doughnut in one hand and a diet soda in the other. I deserve living the last third of my life without measuring every step, bite, and fat gram. I know it beats the alternative – fossilizing, wrinkling, and dying, but – geez – do people really think “kale chips” are a viable substitute for Ruffles?
5.    Annual physical exams. You know which I mean – pelvic exams, mammograms, and especially colonoscopies.  Those intrusive exams where people half my age look, inspect, and poke at body parts that I usually cover with underwear, anatomy that no one should trespass without a frank discussion about contraceptives and a firm marital commitment. I know they are necessary, but really?  I have no idea why Income Tax Returns came to mind here among the discussion of colonoscopies, but it seemed to fit here best, among uncomfortable, annual physical exams.  

I have many more things I love to hate, but I shall save them for a future blog. To be continued . . . . 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dating Challenged

I stink at dating – always have.I sputter.I hyperventilate.I fail miserably every time. I blame a pathetically underdeveloped gene that got little use before I married in my early twenties, then atrophied, gathering dust and rust, until I became single again in my fifties. I decided to use this defect to my advantage when I needed to do some investigative reporting a few years back.While on a newspaper writing assignment on Boomer-aged dating, I sacrificed my dignity and my vanity for the sake of the story (and I got several).

Thank goodness, HoneyBunch saved me from all this when we married.  (He comes up with the best dates.) I’ve decided I will “show you mine if you show me yours.”I will swap dating horror stories with you, but you have to promise to play along. The trick here is to tell about your worst date in 25 words or less.You must keep it clean and you cannot name names. Our little contest will run only this week and before my next blogger posting. Me first: The facts:My mom f…

Happy Breastday to Me!

I gave myself a very special birthday present this year – I had surgery. Before you think it was to increase, decrease, or “lift” something, let me tell you it was not cosmetic (though I could probably use a few nips and tucks at my age; the infinite number of creams I buy OTC are not working their promised magic). About four or five months ago, I discovered a hard lump about the size of a large marble in my left armpit.  I had been feeling small pangs of pain in my left chest for several months, but I figured it was just my turn to dance with heart disease.  Everyone in my immediate family is diabetic and suffers from strokes or heart attacks, so I thought – here we go; my turn. I was going to tell my internist about the pangs during my next visit, so imagine my surprise when I discovered the lump. The Drama Queen in me immediately manifested herself – cancer, I thought.  I have cancer. I searched some more and found that the texture on the left side of my left breast felt different t…

Grandma’s Dining Table

Twenty five years ago my first husband and I bought a new home with four bedrooms and three baths, but my favorite part of the house was the enormous room you walked into from the front door. It had no dividing wall but the design was to use half of it as a formal living and the other half as a formal dining. From the beginning I decided to make it into one huge dining room that would catch the eye when everyone walked in through the front door of my home.   My three children were very young, but I envisioned them grown and married. We counted five at the time, but one day we would grow to eight, maybe more if we factored in grandchildren, so I bought a table that sat a family of twelve.  My husband thought it silly to look that far ahead and convinced me to buy only ten chairs. The room looked magnificent – the long, majestic table, the ten chairs, the buffet, a couple of real ficus, and a few other nice pieces of furniture – I was pleased. The table lasted longer than the marriage, a…