I'm calling a cab

To hike or not to hike? "Not" is the right answer . And it's never better to ,"learn the hard way" after the age of 50. My sister, who apparently has mountain goat genes , invited me on what was billed as an easy 8 mile hike with her club in Palm Springs. Ok, I was on vacation, up for something new. It sounded like good exercise and we could spend some quality time chit chatting along the way. She woke me up at 6:00 a.m. to get ready. Huh? I hate 6:00 a.m. She was busy in the kitchen packing food and water into our backpacks when I dragged my sorry ass over to the coffee pot. Not a backpack! The last time I wore one I cried. I had to go back to bed , I needed more rest to carry everything. Oh God, what if I had to pee? "You squat behind a rock" my sister calmly advised me. Were those tears in my eyes?

Richard, our hike leader was an ex Navy navigator who handed each of us a map complete with land elevations and route . He was prepared and I was confused. I can't read a map, I flunked the Brownies. He made us yell a head count which was either the closet kindergarten teacher in him , or a sign he could lose one of us. I vowed to stick to him like freaking glue. We headed into Joshua Tree National Park at 9:30 a.m. and I looked back longingly at the bathroom near the entrance. Everytime we stopped to check the map I said the same thing, "Do you know where we are? Are we lost"? Richard glared at me but I wouldn't be deterred, "are you SURE you know where we are"? How can I explain what happened next? One of the men was attacked by a cactus. A jumping Cholla got him on the calf. Since when did plants jump? Enemy combatant plants were out there and no one told me. I was practically faint as I watched the clump of needles get removed from his leg with a comb. Richard said the needles can go through your hiking boots into the bones of your feet. Had I known about the killer cactus...I needed Valium. No, what I really needed was a TAXI!

We trudged on through the sand until the path lead us into a canyon with only one way out, and that was straight up. Did I mention the trail disappeared, replaced by giant boulders? My sister referred to this part of the day as "boulder scrambling". I preferred to call it, I hate hiking. I was getting very pissy and wanted to go home, but as Richard explained the "beauty" of hiking is you have to finish. I hated him also. I crawled up and over boulders on my hands and knees for 2 1/2 miles; so much for yesterday's manicure and my anterior cruciate ligament. Btw, my sister and I never did chit chat.

I almost burst into tears when I saw the car on the horizon. I loved the car. I was hot, sweaty, beet red, and practically toxic from not peeing. Five hours and 8.2 miles later I was not a better person nor hiker. Like I said before , TAXI !

VACAY!

Hallelujah! I'm packed , I'm psyched, I'm going on vacay! For one week I can discuss something other than the weather. What will I talk about? I can always depress people with news about the economy. Nope, for one week I'll talk about nothing, absolutely nothing more serious than mocha lattes and whether to use 30 or 35 sunblock. I've left all my winter clothes behind. I hate them. I'm thinking of setting them on fire . A ceremonial burning of the parkas, ratty wool sweaters, faded turtlenecks, dingy long underwear, and hole riddled mittens. Jealous? Come on over and take whatever you want.

I've stuffed every single thing I own that isn't reminiscent of cold and snow in a suitcase and plan on wearing it all, but not in the Heidi way like I've done since December. One lovely piece of clothing at a time....one.....piece....at......a ...... time. So, it's off to the grapes of California, Pinot and Cabernet. I don't like either, which thank God will give me one thing about which to complain. I'd be lost otherwise.

Fair Warning!

What is a "player"? Sam called saying his sort of girlfriend just hung up on him screaming he was, "nothing but a player". I think that's hostile and really an issue for Dr. Phil, but I was stuck with it. I wanted to tell him I had the election to deal with and the "r" word ominously looming and couldn't be bothered with dating problems until November, but I didn't. He was obviously concerned. Oh not about the woman, but the accusation. Nice huh? Here's the deal, NONE of the women he dates are his girlfriend, they just think they are. Girls, girls, girls, ask the hard question first, "are you interested in a relationship"? Or call me before you go out with this man and I'll tell you the answer "NO". And Sam, you hound dog, take some responsibility here too. Before even ten minutes has elapsed tell the poor person you have no interest in any future commitment. A woman who stays for a drink after that is on her own. I say run!

I tell Sam he is not a player but PROFESSIONALLY SINGLE, this sounds more polite and he seemed pleased with the new label. All my uncommitted male friends are, now that I think of it. They've been alone so long they're good at it. Shabby apartments desperately in need of a woman's touch/taste have given way to well decorated homes in need of no one. The once poorly dressed man has discovered Neiman's , Bloomingdales and Barneys. No woman required. And holy cow Batman, these guys can shop and prepare a freaking gourmet meal. Who needs the little woman now? The boys have become picky, picky, picky and truth is they feel they can be because they don't need any help. Yep got it all. Of course they're delusional but that is Dr. Phil territory. And If your "ah ha" moment is, "he'll love me if I have sex with him" ah ha again. Nope, won't work either, because it won't separate you from the crowd ....you'll be part of it.

This sucks doesn't it and quite honestly I don't have the answer. Sorry. As for me, I've taken the path of Lysistrata. Remember her? If you don't check Wikipedia. Now I have to get back to worrying about the election and the "r" word.

The Gift of Goosebumps

Barack's got the gift. Some people "got" it and the rest don't. It was a stunning juxtapositon after the big win for Hillary in Texas, Ohio, and Rhode Island. She was delivering her victory speech in a very determined and rigorous manner, alluding to issues like the economy and re-gaining jobs. Can't anyone say something specific for God's sake? Allusion is crap, but politically safe. Regardless, I was rooting for her, or alluding to root for her. She was upbeat, smiling, promising to fight to the end. Yea Hillary, you're a heads down worker bee, good speech.

Uh oh, not so fast, enter, "the gift". Barack Obama in the meantime was delivering a concession speech. If only I had turned the channel. The minute he opened his mouth I was mesmerized. Frozen in place I dropped the clicker. Whoa baby, whatever it is you're selling I'm buying. "You're selling hope? Ok, that's good, I'll buy it". That's the Obama effect. What was he really saying? What's hope in terms of policy and did I care? Apparently no one cares because in truth he wasn't saying anything, or even alluding, but he has the gift of oration and THE GOOSEBUMP FACTOR. I've had these bumps before. Winston Churchill, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Martin Luther King, John F. Kennedy, and William J. Clinton (yes, Clinton) gave the "bumps" also. Now we can add Barack Obama to the list. He delivered the magic of inspiration. "I believe, I believe", I shouted as I ran around the room . Hold it I'm a Jew we're not into Evangelistic type excitment. I stopped and sat in a chair.

Hillary, you are not a goosebump girl. I like your determination and I think you really are a "day one" candidate. I don't care if you don't move me out of my seat. I'm exhausted after the last eight years and would like to rest. John McCain, give up. And btw has anyone checked his pulse lately? He will never move anyone except in the same direction they're already going. As for Barack, maybe what he can do for his country is wait his turn.

It had to be you, Alan Greenspan

It's the economy. IT's THE ECONOMY! And yes, I am stupid. I've hung up my hang up on foreign policy and turned my undivided attention to the "r" word. I have no idea what I'm reading as economists baffle me. There are really no two opinions alike. Who are these people and why don't they agree? I desperately comb the business section of the paper obsessed with economic indicators, interest rates, unsecured mortgage packages, and unemployment numbers. Yet I can't help but wonder if Alan Greenspan doesn't feel a teensy- weensy bit guilty. Alan, sorry baby but the housing bubble burst. We're all being slimed. Weren't you supposed to keep an eye on the banks and ill conceived derivitives?

I admit I re-financed with an adjustable rate mortgage which in hindsight wasn't prudent, but I did get the low, low, low, interest rate of 4.5%. Btw, Wells Fargo, why did I have to put down 20% at the time of purchase? Now I read the whole freaking world made little or no downpayment and got vacay money to boot. I did get oh so lucky and sell my condo before it would have doubled as my tomb. There I would have been face down in the living room with a rusty for sale sign out on the lawn, and these last words frozen on my lips, "Alan what about the banking industry"?

Ben Bernake what's your opinion? Should I just say "no" to shopping? But wait, the President is sending me a check for that very purpose. This confuses me. Should I stop and save, or go and spend; someone tell me the truth! Maybe I should car pool. That always sounds so sensible doesn't it? Except I don't leave my apartment to work. I might do it anyway,for the peace of mind it could bring . Does anyone want to come? I do have a fuel efficient car ,although if gas gets to $4 a gallon I'm getting a bike... or dog sled if the winter doesn't end. Ben, I'll never be able to retire if you and those crazy economists keep muttering: inflation, stagflation, recession, and depression. I've worked hard all these years and now Fed boy Ben, you need to do the same because, "it's the economy stupid".

Blue M&Ms

Mother Nature must be a man. Who else would play this mid-life trick on women? Women lose their sex drive and men get Viagra. I'd like to thank the pharmaceutical industry for their complicity. I'm assuming if any women worked on the miraculous erectile dysfunction drugs they were under 40. Girls, girls, girls, you will live to regret it. I'd also like to thank doctors who are handing these pills out like M&Ms. And last, but not least, hats off to that drag queen Mother Nature, for menopause. Now the world of relationships is on tilt.

Listen carefully midlife boys. ( And btw wasn't the new Porsche enough)? Women do not lose their sex drive on purpose. It's business ,not personal. So don't go stomping around all pissed off and pouty that your wife, significant other or girlfriend is denying you sex to be mean. Looking at some of the middle aged men out there I suggest they deny you food. Women aren't thinking about sex and it's no fault of their own; their hormones are gone, vanished, hasta la bye-bye. Hey pharmaceutical companies how about making hormone replacement drugs that are safe? I personally would like my skin tone back. Did you think I'd say sex life?

My friend Jack called to tell me about an article he read regarding a libido enhancing drug they're working on for older women. Huh? Isn't it possible these women are already happy with their lives? So what if they're not fantasizing about sex. Ironically, my male friends have no interest in having sex with an older woman or even one their age. Well what's a girl to do? Cry? Call a plastic surgeon? How about sex with a younger guy? That sounds like hormone therapy to me and just might perk up the old libido.

Right on, Mom!

Mom's turning 90! Holy crap Mom, how'd you do it? And why after all these years of silence about your age, are you admitting such a big number? Growing up I had no idea how old she was. In fact , I think she had three birth certificates and four drivers licenses all with different dates of birth. Impressed with her craftiness? Oh and btw I don't believe any of those documents were correct. But regardless of this high level of secrecy, she was mortified she'd be found out. I admit my sister and I rummaged through her drawers once for a birth certificate to no avail. We did find $10 however and split it.

Mother came by her deceptive ways honestly as her mother (aka Nana), carried on these covert operations also. My Mom, never knew the exact age of, her Mom. The closest approximation we came to was , when she died she was either 85 or 110 or possibly 93. But Nana had real skills; to completely cover her tracks, she lied about her children's ages also. And like good soldiers they obeyed her orders to nod in agreement. She was a thinker wasn't she? And yes,my Mom carried on this time honored tradition and didn't tell the truth about her daughter's ages either. I've lied for so long I've forgotten the real number, thank the Lord. Besides, I can't count that high.

So why fess up at 90, Mom? She's defied the aging process and could easily hang out at 82 for years to come. There are days I stare at her and think she looks a hell of a lot better than I do. It's pretty depressing. In a blind, "who has the better jaw line" test she'd win hands down. Which only means I have my dad's and burst into tears. She is a walking testimonial to every make-up counter at Neimans, Saks, and Bloomingdales. Although Yves Saint Laurent products have taken on religious significance. If you're lost and looking for something in which to believe apparently there is meaning in a facial mask. Don't let anyone see you however. Mom's worked hard at looking young. I think youth must be tiring after all these years, but she is a fighter. Perhaps this is why she's finally admitting her age, so we can raise her hand in the air and declare her the winner.