Here's to Happy Women...

S o, you’r e in a relationship and heading ou t for a long weekend with your partner. The weekend promises to be great fun. You’re looking forward to getting away and enjoying a few nice meals, perhaps some dancing or listening to some live music, sleeping in, and some lazy days by the pool with some refreshing libations. It’s a change of scenery you’re after…and some romance and relaxation. You get to your destination, check into the hotel, and whack…you are hit in the head with those interesting, yet predictable, expectations the moment the door to your room opens and your partner spies the bed. Perhaps you have the notion. Either way, my point is that the word “hotel” or the hint of the word “hotel” can be a powerful aphrodisiac. Let me digress, cool off and explain where I’m going with this article. Bare with me please…and yes, the bad pun’s intended. A few months ago, I read a silly article about the name “Fred.” I don’t remember all of the details, but I do remember that ...

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...

Okay…my husband is on a di et. His knee surgery last year caused problems. He’s not as active as he was prior to the surgery—not by a long shot. He can’t walk for extended periods, nor can he ride the step machine or the stationary bike at the gym as he once did. He can’t even play golf. Bottom line: he’s gained weight because he can’t do what he normally does to stay fit—almost. We’ll get to the “almost” in a bit. A new knee is supposedly the answer to this dilemma. Alas, this begets another dilemma. To get the new knee my husband has to lose weight—or else the operation won’t be successful. Exercise is obviously out of the question, so here we are—counting carbs, calories, fat content and constantly reading labels for taboo ingredients like high fructose corn syrup, trans fat and refined flour. We’ve never done this before. It’s almost like learning a foreign language, except foreign languages aren’t as sneaky as the food labels. This entire situation sounds miserable ...