Being Bea Arthur

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Humor, Media, Pop Culture | 6 Comments

I complained to my friend Cathy, not so very long ago, that menopause was making my voice sound like Bea Arthur (if you’re around my age you’ll remember Maude); and she said soothingly, “Ohh, sweetie, you don’t sound like Bea Arthur, you sound like Harvey Fierstein.” It’s the same thing. I had hoped that as I aged I’d purr like Lauren Bacall, but no… I rasp like a drag queen. Like Bea Arthur.

Now I do have to admit that I never emitted tones anyone ever called dulcet. More Ethel Merman than Ethel Barrymore, more gym teacher than yoga instructor. Read more

Gumby is Fuzzy

Filed Under All Posts, Cathy Fischer, Humor, Style | 12 Comments

I’ll admit it. I need reading glasses.

It took some time for me acknowledge this publicly. A few years back, this was the scenario: I’d be out to dinner at a dimly lit restaurant. It was bad enough that I couldn’t hear (that’s the fashion these days, over-packed rooms with hard surfaces feigning a ‘happening’ atmosphere), but I couldn’t see, either. Casually trying to hold the menu a few inches away, then farther, a bit farther, finally at arms length—didn’t fool anyone. While my girlfriends of a similar age would whip out their fashionable specs, I would scoff because at age 48, I was still able read the fine print, in the perfect light, that is. But alas, I got older and Gumby got fuzzy. Read more

Litmus Test: Do You Look Good Doing It?

Filed Under All Posts, Humor, Prudence Baird | 3 Comments

“Honey, do we have someplace we keep towels?” My husband holds a stack of clean, neatly folded towels that I had left on a chair; the chair upon which he plans to sit. This, as far as I can tell, is the only reason he picked up the towels and began looking for another place to put them.

“No. We have no place for towels. In the nine months we’ve lived here, I’ve never figured out where to put them.”

“Oh,” my husband says helpfully, “how about in here?” He opens a cupboard door in the hall—actually the linen closet—and stares at several shelves of folded towels, washcloths and sheet sets.

“Oh,” he says crestfallen. “You’re being sarcastic.” Read more

On Being Hormonal

Filed Under All Posts, Carine Fabius, Humor, Relationships | 10 Comments

Bonjour, I’m hormonal. So, I’m wearing my motorcycle crash helmet around the house. No, I do not ride a motorcycle. The helmet is so that if I give in to temptation and bang my head against the wall, I will not hurt myself. And the pull to do it on an evening such as this one is so strong that I can easily be confused with a crackhead on withdrawal.

It is 11:00 p.m., and I have been in my studio working on jewelry for hours. I am bleary-eyed. When I walk into the kitchen, this is what I see: Read more

My Mother, My Shelf—Thoughts on My Boobs

Filed Under All Posts, Beauty, Connie Stetson, Family, Humor | 8 Comments

“Giant boobies, on my chest.
One points east, the other points west.”

(Sung to the tune of Don Ho’s “Tiny Bubbles”… and if you’re around my age, you know who he was.)

Sadly, the words to this little titty ditty are prophetic.

I have large breasts. Not a complaint, mind you. I have always enjoyed a very good relationship with my bodacious tata’s. They are quite nice and symmetrical; my husband describes them as soft, comfy and compelling. Everyone seems to enjoy a hug from me. Sweaters have followed me home, and, yes, men have bypassed eye contact with me all together to carry on deep conversations with them. They’ve been called fabulous. My sister says that no one has enjoyed my breasts more than I have. My sister’s breasts are those charming “champagne glass” types. (Though, they say to never drink champagne from those little bowls, flutes are better. Frankly, I’d drink champagne from a jock strap. I love the stuff). Read more

Why Pet Boutiques Get My Goat

Filed Under All Posts, Cathy Fischer, Humor, Rants, Style | 9 Comments

Coach cashmere sweater, $148

I love my 14-year old cat Cleo. She’s the sweetest, softest, most sensitive little creature on the planet. She demands little except for the basics: food, affection and having her bottom smacked firmly and often. I can understand how people become pet-obsessed—especially when they don’t have kids. But really, Coach collars and Gucci leashes? Quilted handmade booties? I just don’t get it!

From L.A. to New York, Chicago to Austin, beautifully appointed pet boutiques are popping up in the most fashionable parts of town. We’re talking a $30 billion dollar annual industry here, with a projected growth rate of 5 percent—all this while food shortages are occurring around the globe. Not to mention people going hungry right here in the U.S.! Hullo? Is anyone home? Read more

NPR Causes Wrinkles. It’s True.

Filed Under All Posts, Beauty, Humor, Parenting, Prudence Baird | 3 Comments

Botox causes brain damage. Cell phones cause brain cancer. Teenage children cause brain implosion. Okay, that last one is NOT true—but they do make you feel like your head is going to explode.

Especially when you are trying to hear on NPR a report about the link between brain damage and Botox that was just discovered by an Italian research team and your teenage son is talking about — what? I very exaggeratedly turn UP the volume on the radio and shake my head at him.

These actions are apparently universal American body language code for “Please speak louder,” because he leans into my face and says — what? Read more

« go back — keep looking »