How I Know I'm Getting Old

I wrote a cranky Facebook post about the incorrect grammar usage in the title “America’s Got Talent.” 

“You’ve Got Mail” came out in 1998. I was 15 years younger and not nearly as incensed.

I saw Bonnie McKee perform on Good Morning America. I had no idea who she was and I Googled her just so I could complain to my co-workers about her trashy outfit.

Pretty soon I’ll be yelling at my co-workers to turn down that music! And get off my lawn!

I went to see a 1950’s exhibit at the Ohio Historical Society. The main draw for me was being able to walk through a Lustron house. In one of the metal drawers in that Lustron house was a small paper book pasted full of S&H Green Stamps. I mentioned this to three co-workers at lunch. Not one of them knew what I was talking about. Not one.

I need to stop talking so much around my co-workers.

I’d like to say that my grandmother collected S & H Green Stamps, and maybe she did. But I did, too, and I used them to get a card table and four folding chairs right after I got married.

See, you got stamps when you bought groceries. You saved them in a book until you had enough to redeem them and – oh, the hell with it. You don't care.

I was looking at my bill from a recent trip to the dermatologist and one diagnosis was “solar lentigines.” She hadn’t mentioned that, so I Googled it, too. It’s liver spots. That’s right, liver spots.

I look at all these “solar lentigines” on my hands and wonder if they still sell Porcelana. I’m willing to bet money  you don’t even know what Porcelana is.

Why don’t you Google it, whippersnapper?

Righteous Underpants

My sweet granddaughter Emily spent the night with me last week. As we were getting dressed in the morning - well, let me first tell you that she thinks it's funny when she gets dressed in my bedroom and I get dressed in the walk-in closet. She always turns the closet light off, I always yell and complain, everyone has a good time. Last week, however, I had more trouble than usual finding my clothes in the dark so I came out of the closet (so to speak) in my panties and bra.

I wish you could have seen the look of bewilderment on her face. "Jeano! Why does your underwear go up so high?"

Emily had never heard the expression "granny panties." That's not right. Girls need to know they have options and it's to them that I dedicate this song:

Granny Panties

(sung to the tune of You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling)

You'll never see a thong anytime that I sit by you-oo-oo

And there's no hint of lace or a bow to come peekin' through-oo-oo

Bikini briefs are forgotten

And baby, baby they're cotton!

I'm wearin' graaaaaaaanny panties

Whoa-oh-oh granny panties

I'm wearin' granny panties

That go way...up...high...whoa-oh-oh-oh.

They're mostly black and beige but that's more than you want to know-oh-oh

And I wear bras that match, so I'm sure that I'm good to go-oh-oh

Now don't you think that I'm frumpy

'Cause baby, baby I'm comfy!

I'm wearin' graaaaaaaanny panties

Whoa-oh-oh granny panties

I'm wearin' granny panties

that go way...up...high...whoa-oh-oh-oh.

The Rolling Billboard for Christ (or, can you say blasphemous?)

As I was driving to work this morning, I passed an interesting car. It was a beater, for sure. It was blue. Across the bottom edge of the trunk someone had hand-painted in large white letters: Who is this Jesus?

Below that on the bumper was: Jesus – Yes!

Then on the side I saw: Heaven or Hell?

I’m talking large white hand-painted letters – maybe seven or eight inches tall.

I started wondering what would possess someone to do that? (The holy spirit, you say?) I’ve decided it must have been a man. I think men are more about the grand gesture. Bigger is better and all that. It might have gone down like this:

Husband: I’ve been thinking about our Lord God Almighty.

Wife: Praise the Lord!

Husband: I want to help spread the Word!

Wife: Praise the Lord!

Husband: I think I’ll paint the Word on our car!

Wife: Say what?

Husband: Our car will become a missionary on wheels. A billboard for Christ!

Wife: You can’t be serious.

Husband: “Who is this Jesus?” That has a nice ring to it. It’ll give people something to think about while they’re driving.

Wife: You know what they'll think? They'll think you're nuts.

Husband: “Jesus – Yes!” I’ll keep the messages short, so they can be BIG. I’ll show people the Way.

Wife: Can't you do that with a bumper sticker? Or maybe by hanging a medal or two from the rearview mirror?

Husband: I've got it! “Heaven or Hell?” on the back passenger door!

Wife: Slow down, Bible Boy. You really need to rethink this.

Obviously, Bible Boy was not to be deterred. The rolling billboard for Christ is a reality. And it did get me thinking about Jesus.

Sweet tap-dancing Jesus to be precise.

Speaking of Birthdays

We were, weren't we? Talking about birthdays? At least we were talking about MY birthday which, sadly, tends to happen when one has control of the blog.

I've found that the older I get, the less I like birthdays. I like them to be acknowledged with more of a whisper than a bang.

That being said, here are a few reasons why my birthday didn't suck this year.

• I got a cow pie. see previous post

• I got nice cards and gifts in general. People are so thoughtful, even when you're old and surly about your birthday.

• At the end of each month, the admins in my office post on bulletin boards the names of people having a birthday or work anniversary the following month. In our department, I am happily the only April birthday so I was able to rip down the birthday posting before anyone got the chance to see it. Was I a poor sport? Probably. Did I avoid confetti on my desk and perfunctory birthday wishes from co-workers? You bet.

• The co-workers I am close to and who know it's my birthday without a bulletin-board reminder quietly brought in brownies and muffins anyway. How nice was that?

• I got a lot of Facebook birthday wishes. That's a relatively new thing for me in terms of my birthday, and I like it. You get nice little notes and comments from your friends and relatives to read at your leisure.

• On the actual evening of my birthday - not the weekend before or the weekend after - I had a nice, relaxing dinner at BW3 with my son Joey, his girlfriend Francisca, my daughter Chrissy, her husband Bryan, my sister and brother-in-law. A nice group. Casual. Fun. And, to make it even better, earlier that day my daughter had her second ultra sound and found out she is having a baby boy. So mixed in with my birthday gifts was a little blue onesie making the announcement. Except for Chrissy and Bryan of course, we all got the news together.

Here's a picture of the cute little guy, taken on my birthday (not his):

His name is Vincent. That's a profile of his sweet little head on the left and his giant belly on the right.

Now that's one birthday I am looking forward to.

Go Ahead, Have a Cow

My friend Marsha and I have a long-standing tradition of exchanging cards and gifts that feature cows. I'm not sure how or why it started. Guess we were just in the moooooood.

Anyway, for my recent birthday, I received this card in the mail:

A couple days later, I had dinner with Marsha and another friend Betsy and received this:

It might be hard to tell from the photo, but that's a little cow tea pot. You put a cup of water in it, pop it in the microwave, then hold it by its tail and pour the hot water out its nose. It's very cute.

It's cow pottery, not to be confused with cow poetry.

I was surprised when I also got this:

That's right, a peach pie. My favorite. So much my favorite that I wolfed down a big piece as soon as I got home from dinner before I even thought about taking a picture of it.

So, thanks to Marsha and Betsy, and fulfilling the prophecy of the card, I am now able to tell you that I got a cow pie for my birthday.

Sleep Follow-Up

I know, I know. You're all probably wondering "what on earth happened at Jeano's sleep study?"

Let me tell you:

1. I don't have sleep apnea. I don't have restless leg syndrome.

2. I never thought I did.

3. I was wired from head to toe. I'd estimate there were at least 15 wires and devices hooked up to various parts of my body.

4. During the 5 hours they said I slept, I never once achieved REM sleep.

5. I'm blaming that on #3.

6. I went home the next morning and took a shower. I had to work really hard to get the gauze and gooey stuff out of my hair from where they attached 4 wires.

7. Turned out they attached 5, and I didn't discover that till I was out of the shower and brushing my hair and hit more gauze and goo.

8. I now have concerns about how thoroughly I'm shampooing.

9. What were those directions again? Lather, rinse, repeat?

10. The study wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be.

15 Great Things About the Ides of March

1. My daughter is pregnant (so far, that’s made every day great)

2. My son had an interview for a swell new job

3. My son was asked for a second interview for that swell new job

4. My son’s girlfriend invited me to her OSU graduation in May
(she likes me, she really likes me!)

5. President Obama is the speaker at the May commencement
(I like him, I really like him!)

6. Sally Field quotes never get old

7. It’s Friday

8. It’s Friday and it’s warm outside

9. It’s Friday and it’s warm outside and I actually left the office
at lunchtime and bought a really cute Easter Thumper bunny
for my sweet Emily (don’t tell)

10. And a Jimmy John’s sub for me

11. And a Starbucks caramel frappacino

12. I got this card from a friend:

13. I actually have really good friends

14. None of them stabbed me either

15. After work, all I have to do is go home, get comfy, and finish reading my book

Sleep Study

I'm going to a clinic soon for a sleep study. I saw my doctor in December for my annual physical. As always, she asked me a lot of questions about a lot of different things. Apparently a few of my answers caused her to be concerned that I have sleep apnea.

It never occurred to me that I might have a sleeping disorder, even though I do occasionally emit a delicate little snore. So delicate, in fact, that it occasionally wakes me up.

Fun sleep apnea facts: 1 in 5 adults have sleep apnea to some extent. 1 in 15 have sleep apnea that is severe enough to cause damage to internal organs, primarily the heart.

While I never considered a sleeping disorder, I do realize that I have sleep issues. Charming idiosyncrasies, really, as in I want to sleep in my own house, in my own bed, with my own pillows, sheets and blankets, with the TV on. Always with the TV on. It's white noise to me. I wear one of those movie-star eye masks to block out the light, though, because the light from the TV bothers me.

I know it makes no sense.

Against my better judgment but to appease my doctor, I saw a sleep specialist. She asked me a lot of questions about a lot of different things and said, yep, I think you have sleep apnea.

So a sleep study is in my future. Here's the drill:

My appointment time is 7:30 pm.

I will be assigned a room with a chair, TV and double bed. The bathroom is down the hall.

It will take approximately 2 hours to hook me up. I will have four wires attached to my head; a sensor in my nose; a sensor near my mouth; a belt with sensors around my chest; EKG patches on my chest; and another belt with sensors around my hips.

I can "relax" in the chair while all this is happening, eat a little snack (if I bring one) and watch a little TV. They suggested I bring a book, cards or crafts. (Seriously? Crafts? I'm fresh out of popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners.)

Around 10:00 or so they'll tuck me into bed, hook up all the wires to a computer, and shut everything else down. No lights (good) , no TV (uh-oh), and no clock (are you freaking kidding me?). When I asked the sleep specialist about the clock, she said "What do you need a clock for? You'll be asleep."

Sure I will.

Strange place, wires hooked up to my body, and audio/video monitoring to boot. I'm sure I'll drift off in no time.

I complained to my son about it and he said "Tell them it's not going to happen without half a bottle of wine, a box of cookies and cable."

He knows me so well.

I'll let you know what happens.