YES, I'm Thankful!

By Tonia

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.” – Oscar Wilde

Thanksgiving is approaching and I’ve been seeing all the 30-day thankfulness posts on Facebook. While some of them are a bit cheesy, I certainly subscribe to a gratitude attitude. After all, the best things in life are free, right? I just don’t understand why I don’t have a bigger savings account then.

I’ve also seen the meme that says to be thankful that spiders can’t fly. But, personally, I’m glad cows can’t fly. Bird shit on my car is bad enough. But I digress…

In the history of Thanksgiving, only half of the Mayflower pilgrims survived, so I guess Thanksgiving is really a Holy Shit – I’m Happy to Be Alive Day. I can get behind that. Despite my complaints about aging, it’s better than the alternative. So here’s my thankfulness list.

I am thankful that –

-- I don’t get what I deserve

-- I’m not a turkey ….. at least not literally

-- At this age, my farts are still just farts ….. nothing extra

-- I’ve peed before I’ve laughed ….. it saves laundry

-- Anna wouldn’t let me trim my bangs after 4 Margaritas the other night

-- Sex is free ….. usually

-- Science has discovered sex is good for the brain ….. I need the neuron growth!

-- Viagra is available for my sex partners ….. even if some of them put it in Pez dispensers!

-- Among all the sex scandals in the media this year, my name wasn’t mentioned

-- I have wonderful family and friends…..some even with benefits

So, if you’re having a girlfriends’ get together before Thanksgiving, serve Pumpkin Martinis and brainstorm ideas for creating a THANKSGIVING BINGO CARD for Thanksgiving Day (i.e. “Someone talking shit about another family member in the other room” or “A sibling rivalry moment among adults” or “Someone gets drunk,” etc).

Pumpkin Martini

Mix the following ingredients in a martini shaker filled with ice:

3 TBSP vodka

2 TBSP half and half

1 TBSP canned pumpkin puree

1 TBSP maple syrup

¼ tsp vanilla extract

Shake (DUH!).

If you like a rimmer, mix sugar and pumpkin pie spice on a plate. Wet the rim of a cold martini glass and dip it in the sugar and pumpkin pie mix.

Or add a bit of whipped cream on top! Cheers!

Tennis Menace

by Tonia

"The depressing thing about tennis is that no matter how good I get, I'll never be as good as a wall." - Mitch Hedberg

My granddaughter started taking tennis lessons this summer. Watching her brought back fond memories of my own tennis attempts in childhood. So I decided – what the hell – I like raising a racket – I should take it up again. Never mind that I’m 61 years old, uncoordinated and out of shape.

So, my first attempt was with Rachel (daughter) who also hasn’t played in years. Her first words to me were to take it easy - she didn’t want me to fall and break a hip because she’d have to take care of me the rest of my life. Grrrrrr ….. I raised brats.

This is what it looked like: both of us chasing balls on our court, on other courts, over the fence, in the parking lot and down the street. And this is what it sounded like:

-- “F**k!”

-- “S**t!”

-- “God d****t!”

Along with:

-- “Where’s the ball?”

-- “Just kidding!”

-- “Was that your Protect-My-Boobs shot?”

-- “Do you do all your own stunts?”

The grandkids went with us but, after a short time, they both hid in the car - they didn’t want their friends to see them with us. I didn't come home with tennis elbow – I came home with tennis body.

My next attempt was with the boyfriend where Love means nothing. Trying to look cute and sexy, I ran up on the ball to smack it and *WHACK!* it bounced off my forehead and took my hat with it. My stupefied look was not …. well …. sexy.

But, never one to give up just because I should, I have continued to play with some girlfriends (where looking stupefied is well accepted). The last time we played I ran to make a shot, knocked over the ball hopper and sent 70 balls into the neighboring court where GOOD players were playing. Yes, it was epic.

So, for some great exercise, lots of laughs and LOTS of personal growth in frustration tolerance, take some girlfriends to play tennis. Then go get a drink – or four.

Adventures with a Cact-ASS

By Tonia

“I have learned the difference between a cactus and a caucus. On a cactus, the pricks are on the outside.” – Mo Udall

Spending summers in Santa Fe has always been one of the highlights of my year. I write; I admire the sunsets; I attend outdoor concerts; I look at art; I hang out with my NM friends and I hike. I usually rent a small guesthouse just outside of town. Its perfect for my needs and I love my landlord. 

Because I’m outside of town I can often hike/walk from my front door. Which is what I did the other day with my dog. As we were walking, my dog became extremely interested in something between 2 rocks. I saw that it was a cute baby bunny so I shooed the dog away and squatted down to take a picture of it with my phone……….Butt instantly realized: I. Had. Sat. On. A. Cactus.

And, for the record, roses may say “I love you,” but cacti say, “Go fuck yourself.” Damn pricks! If I had needed acupuncture on my ass I would have gone to an office!

I quickly took inventory and realized that, yes, there were tiny cactus needles stuck in my ass but there were even MORE tiny cactus needles still stuck in my pants – with evil plans to make their way into my tender buttocks. Not wanting that to happen, I quickly unzipped my pants to make room for my hands so that I could reach back and push my pants away from my ass. Now, I’ve had other people’s hands in my pants before but I can’t honestly say that I’ve had my own hands in my pants (I usually just take them off for that activity.)

Since it was a mile or so back to the guesthouse, I decided to take the road as it would be an easier walk. And, while there is rarely any traffic on that dirt road, this day it was like goddamn rush hour traffic. As cars drove by the adults turned away but the kids had their noses pressed up against the windows. Geez, kids. Never seen a grown-up with her hands up her ass??

I finally got home and ripped those pants off as fast as I could and began my mirror and tweezers chore. Got ‘em all out but don’t ask me to turn the other cheek……

So, for your next girlfriends’ get together, why not have a Western themed party. Dress up in Western attire and put your friends’ faces on WANTED posters. For an activity, have a relay race. Take 2 broom/mop sticks and stick horse heads on the ends. (Make it easy by cutting horse head shapes out of poster board. Add yarn for the mane if you want to get fancy.) Set up 2 obstacle courses with blow-up cacti. Divide your girlfriends into two teams. One person from each team races on her “horse” through the obstacle course and back. They then pass the “horse” to the 

next teammate in line. The team whose members finish the race first is the winner. 

Other possible games are Throw the Ex into the Cactus, Pin the Prick to the Cactus, and 50 Things to Do with a Cactus. You're welcome.

Motherhood Shmotherhood

by Tonia

"No matter how old a mother is, she watches her middle-aged children for signs of improvement." — Florida Scott-Maxwell 

Mothers Day is approaching. I’m hoping for some fabulous gifts because I nearly ruined my vagina having those three kids! I figure those gifts are my compensation for pain-and-suffering. And I’m not just talking about child birth…..

I was decent mom. I wrote creative IOUs from the Tooth Fairy; I kept cereal on hand for dinners; I held on to their artwork…… 
                                                                      for a little while.

And the lies I told them weren’t BAD lies. You know the ones – the “It’s bedtime” lie when you want some peace and quiet; the “I don’t know where your candy is” lie when you just devoured it all in a single sitting; and the “We were just wrestling” lie when you were ….. well, you know. 

Motherhood DID give me super powers, though:

   -- I can shoot daggers from my eyes and make a child stop dead in her tracks

   -- I can extend my right arm from the driver’s seat and save lives

   -- I can make ice cream invisible in the freezer and later, when I’m alone, make it reappear

   -- I can sniff out evidence of a working digestive system

Some of my other motherhood survival accomplishments include:

   -- I can pee in front of just about anyone

   -- I can pick a booger that isn’t mine

   -- I can fake enthusiasm for performances (this has come in very handy in my dating life, by the way)

So, for one of your next girlfriends’ get-together, gather up some moms and go rent a hotel room for a slumber party. Play MOTHERHOOD: TRUE CONFESSIONS. Here’s how to play (but feel free to adapt as needed):

MOTHERHOOD: TRUE CONFESSIONS

Create cards out of the topics below (add as needed). Place these cards face down on a table. Select one person to be the Judge – this person does not answer cards; she “judges” and keeps score.

Oldest mother goes first (“age before beauty”). Everyone except the Judge takes turns selecting and answering cards. After each person has responded to a card, the Judge ranks that mother’s level of “confessionality” on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being “not much of a confession at all” and 10 being “OMG, we can’t believe you really said that out loud” and writes it down on a score card. Everyone takes turns responding to cards until they are all used – or until everyone has answered the same number of cards. Highest score wins.

Cards

The most soiled outfit I ever wore in public

The best trick I ever played on my kids

The longest period of time I’ve gone without a shower

The longest period of time I’ve gone without shaving my legs

My worst attempt at being sexy after motherhood

The most disgusting thing I ever found in my car

The most ridiculous consequence I tried to give one of my kids for misbehaving

The longest time I’ve gone without doing laundry and how I did it

The worst breakfast I ever let my kids eat

The worst lie I ever told my kids

The longest time I ever let my kids watch TV at one sitting

The worst thing I ever cooked or baked

The biggest bribe I ever made to my kids

A time I “lost it”

A time I embarrassed one of kids on purpose

The longest time I left a kid in time-out because I forgot s/he was there

A time I blamed a kid for something I did

My worst holiday planning

My most embarrassing moment as a mother

The worst thing I ever did/said to my mother-in-law