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Showing posts from March, 2011

Toy Buying for Dummies

Not to brag, but I’m here to tell you, since no one else will, that I am one of the world’s greatest toy buyers. I don’t make my bed in the morning and I’m really comfortable leaving the kitchen a mess at night; I like ice cream for dinner and once in awhile I forget myself and swear. But, man, I’m a whiz at toys. So, as a public service, I’m offering my Good Rules for Excellent Toy Buying for free, no purchase required, offers void where information not valid. The good news is kids don’t know cheap toys from over-priced, over-advertised toys unless you fold and buy them. The minute you say, “Ok, you can have it,” what was just a whiff of a purple-pink plastic cloudy swirl in their little brain from the blasting drumbeat of the last commercial they saw becomes written in stone. Also, and this is important to remember if you’re one of those super tense, highly responsible relatives, nothing kills a good time faster than having something be good for you. Here’s so

Leapin' Lizard (my high school nickname)

Today I took a leap into the great unknown and quit all ties to a newspaper, even to a newspaper that wasn’t going to publish me very often but that I thought about a lot. Today I launch myself completely into the world of blogging. Today I become…not a man obviously, but a person with no direct outlet for what I’m writing except what I can drum up for myself. A little un-nerving, this idea of independence. It goes along with what I was reading this morning about the loaves and fishes and walking on water. The idea that you should take a leap of faith when that leap stands there in front of you, wagging its tail, saying, “Here I am, come and get me.” That leap says so much about everything we do in life. It addresses our fears for tomorrow: Will I be forgotten or left behind if I don’t have a job or a title or something I can pin my hat on and have others recognize as me? A friend of mine was talking about a recent procedure she had to enlarge her throat. Her thro

Going Under the Scope--Liz Gets a Colonoscopy

Until the nurse told me to get some Desitin, the diaper rash stuff, to help with “the discomfort,” I was fairly confident about my procedure. Apparently I’m the only human being over the age of 50 who hasn’t had a colonoscopy. My daughter had two of them with no anesthesia when she lived in Africa, thereby setting a new standard for Things Real Women Do. For me, the prospect of drugs is usually the only bright light in anything like this. I have become such a nervous Nellie in my old age. Even the slightest twinge sends me into crisis mode. I used to be proud of my ability to take pain. I could go into this Zen state when everything was going to be all right: breathe deeply, relax, become one with my fear of dying. A few years ago in a dazzlingly played game of “beat the insurance deductible,” I had three procedures done in one year. After two required surgeries, I decided to go for a third freebie and get my knee scoped. I think I just overwhelmed my little ner