Yoga? At my age?

So today at lunch Betty, Agnes, and yours truly were sitting on the patio of this lovely Thai restaurant when out of the blue Betty starts going on about how she's taken up yoga. She swears up and down that it has done wonders for her joints, not to mention her sex life with her husband. (Yes, Agnes and I are both widows, which frankly, that's ok by me. My husband was a pompous jerk, and Agnes' husband thought he was the Archiduke Ferdinand.)

Betty wants me and Agnes to join her yoga class. Agnes of course was all for it, she's 81 and has only two brain cells left, so if you told her to jump off a bridge, she'd do it. (Note to self, next time Agnes tells me one of her awful gall bladder stories, tell her to go lie down in the street.) I told Betty to rethink this. For one thing, Agnes can barely walk, and for another, if I stretch out too far I lose control of my bowels, and I don't think her yoga class would appreciate being bombed out of Kansas City...yes, not even Beano could prevent that.

Betty insists that my arthritis will go down and that I will feel like a new, young, vital woman. (What are they teaching you in those yoga classes? Do you have to sniff glue before you come? Sheesh!)

Humidity! Evil!

Damn this Global Warming, damn it to hades and back! Oh Lord have mercy, my hair is all frazzled out, my voice is even more croaky than before, and now my breasts won't stop sticking together! I thought bras were supposed to prevent that! Hell, it makes not difference on mine, they hang so low nowadays. Wait, I probably should not be sharing this with you. What would my deceased husband say?! (As if I care, that deadbeat is long since dead! Hot damn! Off with my bra!!!!!!)

Lord...it is HOT out there!

For five days now I haven't stepped outside of this house. It is too hot and humid, I can't risk getting a heat stroke. Hell, at my age, I can't risk getting any kind of stroke period. (Not that I'm afraid of dying, I'm not.) I just want to stay alive long enough to pursue my lifelong dream of becoming a go-go dancer. Can you imagine that? I think my wrinkles would cause me to stick to those metal poles. (Not to mention the patrons would go blind!)

Anyways, God bless my church. The priest and the verger came over to my house yesterday to give me my portion of the Eucharist. They know me too well!

Hot and Humid weather = cranky vicious Madge.

Independence Day Nightmares

Oh kids, I am so tired. All night last night, those darned neighborhood teenagers lit firecracker after firecracker! For a moment I thought World War III broke out in Kansas City. Maxine was shaken the whole night, she buried herself under my pillow and wouldn't come out till dawn.

Whoever came up with the concept to light explosives to celebrate our nation's birthday is indeed the lowest scum of humanity. Sometimes I wonder if these inventors come up with these inventions just to find new ways to torture the elderly!

Bah humbug!

On a positive note, I did get a sexy blue rinse done on my hair since I am heading out to dinner with the girls in a few minutes. We're going to a Let-Us-Entertain-You restaurant on the Kansas side of Kansas City. I've read many great reviews and their wine selection is excellent. I just hope Betty and Agnes will have me back here by 10:00. I am getting up early tomorrow to attend the spoken Eucharist at 7:30 a.m. (I usually attend the 10:30 Choral Eucharist, but I have a lot to do tomorrow.)

Ok, my rides here, I gotta run. Maxine, be a good girl till mommy comes home drunk again tonight...!

Do not ever do this...!

Do not ever eat chips with both guacamole and bean dip or you'll end up wasting half a Sunday on the can like me...

Mary Kay really is a Cult...Women Beware!

Today AGAIN that damn Mary Kay lady tried to get me to buy and start my own Mary Kay business. I kept telling her no, and she said that Mary Kay is the answer to everything wrong in my life. What a lunatic? I appreciate this image sent to me from a fan. I think it is offensive, but it shows that Mary Kay really is a cult more so than a business. It's sad. Women who are in Mary Kay need to be helped.

No matter how many times I tell them no...

Betty and Agnes want to go see the new Sex and the City movie this evening and of course they want me to come along even though I hate going to the theaters. I asked them, why in their cotton-pickin' minds would they assume I want to go see the movie Sex and the City when I couldn't stand the actual TV show. (All that sex, and not one old Braud involved! Bah, humbug!)

They told me they wanted to recapture their youth and that all three of us are the "sex and the city" of people over 70. Not only do they want me to go, they want me to wear something sexy and to put on a pink wig with them...

Is 9-1-1 the right number to call for a couple of straight jackets?

Breakfast with the girls.

This morning, Agnes, Betty, and I went out for some danish and some coffee. We had a lovely time until Agnes started in on her gall bladder surgery scars. She swears that the fact they change in size will imply what kind of weather we'll be getting.

"Today they are the size of my palm! We must be getting a heat wave this weekend."

I don't know how much acid she did back in the day, but I think it's time I call up a nursing home or two...

Dear Abby, You're losing it...

TODAY'S DEAR ABBY...

DEAR ABBY: I recently entertained a childhood friend as a houseguest. It was our first visit in many years. After she left, I noticed several treasured heirlooms were missing -- a hand-blown glass horse sculpture and a bowl from a prominent glass company in Italy. I had hand-carried those pieces home from Italy as gifts for my parents, who have since died. They were the only things that I had from my parents, and they are irreplaceable.

I heard my friend talk about "getting" items from work. Even though I was shocked, I said nothing. I can't prove that she took the sculpture and bowl, but they were here before she came and gone after her departure. No one else has been in my home. What should I do? -- NO MORE INVITATIONS

DEAR NO MORE INVITATIONS: Your childhood friend may be a kleptomaniac, or jealous of the life you have lived and took the items as a way to "even the score." One way to get your things back would be to pay the woman an unexpected visit and retrieve the items to which she helped herself. Do not go unaccompanied.

If you have photographs of the sculpture and the bowl displayed in your home, not only would they be "proof" of what she took, they could also be helpful for insuring other items of value.

***

Abby, Abby, Abby. Bad advice. What you do, No More Invitations is call up your childhood friend and ask her to come visit again--only this time you set out all the nice antiques you own and attach a car battery to each one. That way, not only will you be able to see if she's stealing your things, you'll also get to shock the hell out of that klepto witch and she won't be doing that again...

Ah, nothing like a psychotic old lady full of great revenge ideas...

Well Summer's Here...

Time to fill up the bathtub with ice and see if I can't cool myself down long enough to get all the sweat out of my wrinkles. And I sweat like a nun in heat! Fortunately I bought ten gallons of lemonade at the supermarket today so I'm ready, bring on the 100 degree weather...