ARE YOU ENVIOUS OR ENVIED?

One of benefits of turning eighty is that you seldom feel envious anymore. Half the people you once envied are dead, and those who are still around are hanging on for dear life, coping with arthritis, glaucoma, and other physical ailments. Everyone has kids who have turned out with varying degrees of success or failure. And money doesn’t mean much if you’re in a wheelchair or in such poor health that you can’t go anywhere, except maybe to church or an afternoon matinee.

But looking back, you realize how much envy affects young people’s lives. When I was a child in elementary school, I had the advantage of older siblings who shared their schoolwork. That made me a pretty smart first grader, but nobody likes a kid who’s at the top of her class. Consequently, I got teased and bullied, and didn’t realize that being teacher’s pet doesn’t make for popularity. I always thought they didn’t like me because of my frizzy hair & crooked teeth.

During the teenage years, pretty girls are envied and gossiped about by their less attractive classmates. I didn’t lack for boyfriends, but envied the popular girls who lived in beautiful homes, wore fashionable clothes, and drove their parent’s expensive cars around town. Envy and feelings of inferiority carried over from being too smart in grade school and too poor in high school.

When you’re young, you don’t realize that an envious person can make your life miserable. They can pretend to be your friend, and run you down behind your back. This is even worse if they’re colleagues, because it can affect your career. You keep trying to make them like you, but it won’t work, because you have something they wish they had—whether it be good looks, a happy home, a higher salary or talent. There are a zillion ways to attract envy.

Things start getting worse in middle age. Now you’re competing for expensive homes, professional accomplishments, and your children’s achievements. They say people who boast are basically insecure, but it’s hard to feel sympathy for a woman who brags about her brilliant CEO son, when your kid is back living at home and out of a job.

There’s not much you can do if the green eyed monster rears its ugly head, except to know it’s toxic to both the envious and the envied, alike. Successful people have learned it’s not smart to flaunt wealth or success. Millionaires like Sam Walton drive old trucks, and Warren Buffet lives in his first house. And an affluent woman who runs for office or volunteers at a soup kitchen, had best leave her diamonds at home.

April 13, 2018November 8, 2018

PERK UP YOUR MENU WITH PLANTAINS

Have you ever fixed plantains? I had never eaten them in my life until I went on a second honeymoon to Costa Rica with my second husband. That was about 25 years ago, and grocery stores in my small Indiana hometown didn’t sell them. And if I had tried to serve them to patients at the hospital where I was Director of Nutrition Services, they would have come back uneaten. Hoosiers in flyover country are mostly meat, potatoes, and noodle people.

But once I’d been served fish and fried plantains, I was hooked. Then, as immigration from Latin America increased, I found them hidden away in the produce department of our local supermarket where they started out bright green, lingering in an obscure bin until they were black. The problem was, most people didn’t know what they were, much less how to cook them.

The most important part of serving plantains is when you buy them. Too green, and they’ll taste like wood. Too ripe, and, they taste like fried bananas— too mushy and sweet for my taste. For me, a plantain that is yellow with dark spots, but still slightly firm to the touch is just perfect.

I don’t peel them until the fish is in the oven. Then, I slice the plantains across every inch and a half, stand them on end and slice down the middle. Next, heat a thin coat of a olive oil in a pan on medium heat, and fry the plantains about a minute or two until they’ve browned on the bottom. Flip them over with and mash them slightly with a spatula until they’re brown on the other side, and slightly soft, then drain on paper towels. Cover with foil and keep them warm until the fish is done, and you’re ready too serve a delicious tropical meal even though it’s snowing outside.

Some plantain recipes on the net call for cups of cooking oil and super ripe plantains. Way too many calories! Don’t do this if you’re trying to eat lean. Use the smallest amount of cooking oil possible. Season with salt and pepper to taste, but be careful if you’re on a low sodium diet.

The internet has more elaborate plantain recipes that you might like. A Caribbean getaway may not be possible, but you can enjoy an exotic food right in your own home.

April 11, 2018

NO MORE RETAIL THERAPY AT MACY’S

Walked through the local mall today for the first time since Macy’s closed their doors. The south end of the parking lot is empty and the halls are eerily quiet.

Once upon a time, big city department stores seemed like a magical dreamland to this hick from Purdue who graduated college to work in Chicago. I took an entry level job in an advertising agency only one block away from Marshall Field’s. Heaven! I could barely make my rent, and certainly couldn’t afford their clothes, but it was fun to enter those revolving doors , look up into the vaulted ceilings, smell the exotic fragrances, and see the latest fashions, Then, I’d get out my sewing machine and copy those expensive dresses as best I could.

A few years later, I landed a job that sent me on a trip to New York City. Couldn’t wait to get to Macy’s. It seemed years ahead of Marshall Field’s, and the epitome of sophistication.

Then, fate knocked me around for a few years. I got a divorce and landed back in the ingrown, Southern Indiana hometown I’d always wanted to escape. But I got a good job which I needed to support three kids, so I was stuck in River City. Then, lo and behold, Macy’s came to Indiana, and that made me feel as if a part of my old life had returned. I wasn’t stuck in the boonies; I could shop at Macy’s!

The fun of department store shopping has gone the way of the internet, and now, with Macy’s gone, retail therapy is never going to be the same. Farewell, Macy’s, and thanks for the memories.

April 10, 2018February 10, 2020

ARE NOSE RINGS TRASHY OR HOT?

My husband and I often have brunch on Sunday mornings at a college hangout, so we are able to observe current fads and fashions. Some we like—skinny pants, boots, short skirts, mini dresses. And we’re seeing fewer tattoos. But it’s the nose piercings that leave us puzzled. Why would a pretty girl –or any man or woman– want something like a bull ring between their nostrils? I dunno. When we were in college I recall we did a lot of kissing. Seems like a long smooch would be uncomfortable if you’re having a piece of metal pressed against your lips. Not to mention that it might be gooey if it got infected or you had a runny nose. The allergy season could be problematic.

The studs on the side of the nose are more attractive. Especially on dark skinned people, they look rather exotic. But apparently, there’s a down side to the studs, too. They can get infected, and cause ugly pustules to break out on your skin And sometimes they leave permanent scars.

What do prospective employers think? In some jobs, it really doesn’t matter. Many waiters and waitresses have nose rings, so apparently you won’t have any trouble getting a job at Cheesecake Factory if you’re sporting a bull ring. But I imagine if you’re applying for a job in more conservative organizations like law offices, consulting firms, and the like, they’ll find a reason not to hire someone with a with a face full of junk.

Some psychologists believe nose piercing is a way of rebelling, or making a statement that you’re hot and sexy. But a beautiful woman doesn’t need anything to make her more attractive. And if you’re not exactly gorgeous, it seems like a bad idea to draw extra attention to less than perfect features. A clean, fresh face glowing with youth doesn’t need piercings.

According to online surveys, men see nose rings as a sign that a woman is vulnerable and easy. So, in that sense, I guess nose rings are hot. But to us, they’re not.

April 8, 2018

BEAT THE BLUES WITH GRATITUDE

Sometimes, you have a streak of bad luck. You lose your cell phone, have a falling out with a loved one, and get into a fender bender at the Walmart parking lot. On top of that, it rains all day, and suddenly you’re in a funk and can’t seem to pull yourself out. That happened to me awhile back, and then I ran across one of those self help articles which said that keeping a gratitude list over a period of one month would leave you in a better mood than a bottle of St. John’s wort.

The suggestion was this: Every day, for one month, list three things you’re grateful for. That calculates to approximately 90 items. After listing the obvious things like family, friends and home, I wasn’t sure I could do that. But surprisingly, I found I’d taken many small joys for granted—like hot coffee and the morning newspaper. How many women in war torn countries can enjoy these simple pleasures? And so, the list began to grow, and yes, it worked and by Christmas, I had made it through number 65 , and was my old self again.

Then my husband had surgery, I got the flu, and we finally went south for a few weeks. Now that we’re back, it’s been nothing but snow, ice and cold in April. Time to finish my gratitude list before the blues take me down. Today I started again:

66. blooming daffodils

67. my husband’s recovery

68. a good night’s sleep.

There. I’m done for the day, and already feeling better.

So, the next time you lose your wallet and you’re coming down with a cold, whip out a notebook or open up a new document on your computer titled Gratitude List.

April 5, 2018January 30, 2019

JIM CROW LAWS & SEGREGATED BATHROOMS

On the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination, I thought back to the time I first saw a segregated bathroom. I came of age in the State of Indiana, moved to Chicago, and had no idea there was such a thing.

While growing up on the wrong side of town, most of my neighbors didn’t go anywhere special for summer vacations. State parks, maybe. Later, in college, I knew lots of kids who could afford to go to Florida for spring break, but not one of them ever reported having to watch where they went to pee. I had never traveled south to Florida until I was married at age twenty four.

In 1960, my then husband decided to return to college for a degree from the University of Miami. After about a month of staying with in-laws, we rented a small apartment near the University. I didn’t know a soul, was bored to death, and worried about money. Two blocks away was a Sears Department Store. I knew my college degree wouldn’t mean much to them, but I had worked my way through school as a secretary, so figured that might qualify me for a job in the office at Sears.

I put on my best dress, a pair of high heels, walked in 90 degree heat to the store, and asked for directions to the Personnel Office. (They didn’t call it Human Resources then.) After climbing the stairs to the second floor, I thought I’d better stop in the restroom to wipe the sweat off my face and comb my hair. I asked someone where the Ladies Room was, and a bored clerk pointed her finger. Without paying much attention, I entered the restroom, surprised that it was dingy and smelly.

After I’d checked my appearance, I walked back into the store, and noticed all the white salespeople staring at me. I wondered if I was trailing toilet paper. Alarmed, I turned around, and realized that I had made what appeared to be a serious mistake. A large sign said LADIES ROOM. I hadn’t noticed the two smaller signs underneath, above two doors. One restroom was for COLORED, and the other WHITE. I had gone in the wrong door!

I was so shocked that when I finally sat down for an interview, I was shaking. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job. I suppose I was rejected for one of two reasons: they thought I was either a nervous wreck or colored. Maybe both.

April 4, 2018

STORMY DANIELS BUSTING HER BUTTONS

This is not about politics or POTUS. It’s about the Stormy Daniels interview with Anderson Cooper.

I actually didn’t pay much attention to what she was saying because her tight fitting red blouse was distracting and annoying. If you put on a garment that is too tight across the bust, usually, you take it off and find something that fits now that you’ve gained some extra weight. Nearly busting her buttons looked like a cheesy way to get male attention and approval. I used to manage rental property and if I had to take a young woman to court for eviction proceedings, invariably she would show plenty of cleavage or wear a button buster. Unfortunately, most male judges were susceptible and gave the defendant an extra week or so more than the law requires.

I would guess that men enjoyed the interview more than women. Females are quick to pick up on cheap tricks. Then there’s the fact that Stormy once practiced the world’s oldest profession.

Apparently, she was going for the tailored look, but this photo- shopped picture of Stormy in her heyday is the only one I could find on the internet that wouldn’t get me kicked off Blogger. And if you look for too tight blouse pictures, you will find they are for adults only. Honestly, why would anyone take Stormy Daniels seriously? (Except a male judge, maybe) Meow, meow.