Here's to Happy Women...

Recently, while in the checkout line at the grocery store, I heard this muffled voice squawking from somewhere below. I turned around and looked at the woman standing directly behind me. Apologetically, she glanced down at her purse and said, "I'm sorry, it's my husband . We have two-way radio calling and he's trying to get a hold of me." I asked her why she didn't take the call. She explained that she had already talked to him three times in the past four hours, camera phoned him pictures of the kids at the beach, and that she would be home in ten minutes anyway. The man in front of me asked her why she didn't just turn off the radio feature. "Impossible," she replied. "He would wonder where we are and go nuts ." She then added, "I love that he misses us. I just wish he would quit screaming in my purse." As everyone in the checkout line laughed, it occurred to me how well, if not eloquently, this woman conveyed her point

Sometimes, when playing with girls, the rules are different. Take, for instance, the game of golf. When a friendly wager enters the competition, the stakes are often different and so are the rules. You might say that it’s a completely different ball game when you play with the girls. Recently, I played a round of golf with a good friend. She and I decided to play skins. For those of you not familiar with skins, the basic principal is that the person with the lowest score on each hole wins the amount wagered (the skin) on the hole. We bet a dollar a hole. A basic rule I’ ve always adhered to while playing skins is “one tie all tie.” Meaning if more than one person gets the lowest score (a tie) on a hole, then everyone playing moves on to the next hole and the wager, or skin, for the tied hole (or holes) carries over to the new hole. Whoever wins the new hole gets the skin for new hole and any skins from any preceding tied holes

Why is it that food can bring out the worst in some people — especially when it involves group participation and dining out? There are the ordinary pitfalls of deciding what to eat, where to eat, and when to eat. Any one of these issues can have relatively sane people frothing at the mouth—and not because they’re starving, but because they can’t agree. Then, of course, there’s the tallying of the bill. In my experience, some do and some don’t— meaning that there always seems to be those who order five courses, the most expensive drinks, and then throw in two thirds (or less) of what they owe. I like to split the bill evenly, regardless of who ordered what—with each party putting in a credit card (hopefully their own). One friend of mine doesn’t feel this is fair, because she doesn’t drink, and everyone else does. Never mind that her husband drinks more than the rest of us combined, or that she was the only one who just had to have crab cakes for a starter, and finished off with tira

"Can U hear me, or shall I text louder?" I f time is mo ne y, then I need a loan. No, I haven’t received any bad news about my health. As far as I know, I’m progressing nicely into middle age. That’s just it. I feel as if I’m from the Middle Ages. Time passes me by in a sleek modern jet while I frantically try to keep pace in old bi-plane. As the time flies by, I am constantly amazed with all of our so-called “modern advancements.” It seems as if it tak es more time to get things done than it did “back in the day.” This reminds me of an e-mail I received from one of my sons. He wrote in code—with initials or acronyms—not words. It took me 10-minutes to decipher IMO (in my opinion), ADBB (all done, bye bye) and AFAIK (as far as I know). CUL8R was easy, but CUZ just gave this writer a headache. Time is fleeting. I get that. Times are changing. I get that too. I don’t get why it feels as if someone has cut the 60-minute hour in half. It’s not as if I ha

Why do we do things that are bad for us...knowingly? It seems like only yesterday that my mother was covering my face with zinc oxide, telling me to stay out of the sun — t hat it was bad for my fair Irish skin. Did I follow her advice? Not always. My father smoked and suffered with emphysema. I witnessed the health risks firsthand — yet I took up smoking in my late twenties, and struggle with quitting every few years. I am a mature, intelligent woman. Yet I still go out in the sun unprotected and occasionally smoke. But that’s me. I’m not looking for any lectures on the perils of smoking — I know all of them. In fact, I knew then what I know now. Will I quit again soon? Yes. Will it last? I don’t know. I’m also fully aware of the effects of sun damage. Would have, could have, and should have comes to mind. I say these words every year after I go to the dermatologist for a skin check-up. But this article is not all about me. So please, don’t send me any helpful hints on beating

W hy is it that the invitations we don’t get can be as agonizing as the ones we do receive? We’ve all experienced the pain of not getting an invitation. Like the Christmas party that all of your friends were invited to, but not you. How about the time when severa l of your friends got together for a movie—without calling you? This always hurts, so we put on a good show and say that we were busy and wouldn’t have been able to go anyway—even if we weren’t and we could have. Sometimes not being invited is due to miscommunication. Someone was supposed to call, but forgot. Perhaps the invitation was truly lost in the mail. Other times, you just weren’t invited. As hurtful as this is, there are times that I wish certain invitations had been lost in the mail, or someone had forgotten to make the call. Holiday invitations may be the most hazardous of all. My Thanksgiving last year involved an invitation to a friend’s house. She said, “come for dinner, you’ll have fun.” I thought about it f