They Don't Make a Cream for That

Don't you hate having to wait an hour or more for a scheduled appointment with your doctor? My sister - AKA Sissy - had to do that this week and woe be to the dermatologist that dealt with her after that.

Sissy was there to get a spot checked on her face. The dermatologist zapped it, checked her out and was done - took about 5 mins. But then, she made a big mistake. The "upsell."

According to Sissy this is what happened (and folks please do not try this at home!)

The dermatologist says to her, "You  know your face is looking bad. We have a laser treatment that would really help or we have a cream that you can use and you'd really begin to see a difference in your skin."

While Sissy is thinking "I only wanted my pre-cancerous spot zapped and no, I don't want your $400 cream." Here's what she actually said.

"I know my face looks bad. I'm 40 years old, I never get enough sleep because I have a baby at home, I work to support my family, and I've just wasted an hour of my day waiting for my scheduled appointment with you. YOU DON'T MAKE A CREAM FOR THAT!!!!"

So true!

Summer Reading List

The summer reading list is always a hot topic (excuse the pun) this time of year. I've seen and heard features on the best picks for summer reading online, on the radio, in magazines, etc. I probably won't get around to reading anything other than my students' papers this summer. But one can dream!

I stared longingly at my bookshelf this week with all this talk of summer reading. I wondered what my choice of books says about me. You decide.

Two entire shelves of cookbooks, including everything Rachel Ray has written. I think this says "I like to eat."

An entire shelf of books about Florida, from back road guides to history. This says "My state is better than your state, waa haa."

Everything Alice Hoffman ever wrote. This says "I could turn out to be a stalker of this amazing writer."

Travel guides for Paris, Florence and Greece. This says "I used to travel to wonderful places, but now I have kids."

A non-fiction book "The Secret Life of Lobsters: How Fishermen and Scientists are Unraveling the Mysteries of our Favorite Crustacean" by Trevor Corson. Again "I like to eat."

You won't find any self-help books. This says "I'm beyond help."

What does your bookshelf say about you?

A Mean Pirouette

Soccer. Wrestling. Swimming. All things at which my stepkids both enjoyed and excelled.

This week and next MiniMe is experiencing dance camp. Tap, Jazz, Ballet, Lyrical. Finally something I know and can identify with.

I hold no illusions that MiniMe will embrace dancing. She's made it perfectly clear this is not her "thing." Which means I also have absolutely zero chance of living vicariously through my daughter. Damn! Isn't that one of the joys of parenthood? Again, I'm robbed.

My stepkids enjoyed competitive sports. I will admit I didn't always understand - the games I mean. I still don't know how to recognize "off sides" in a soccer game. But if they enjoyed it, I supported them.

I myself was a gymnast and dancer growing up. Instead of competitive sports, I was a cheerleader in high school. I can't throw, I can't hit, I can't run. But I can do a mean pirouette. 

So I'm thoroughly enjoying the reports at the end of the day from MiniMe on dance camp. And tonight she came home and showed me some of the dances she was learning. Made me remember all those nights I spent tap dancing in the kitchen. God bless my parents for not yelling "keep it down!" when I was in the middle of a step-ball-change.

Do we all hope that our kids turn out just like us, only better? Or do we want them to become their own person with different interests and abilities. Maybe it's a little of both if I have to be honest. Mostly, I just enjoy seeing her happy. No matter how enthusiastically she can pirouette.

The Unholy Refrigerator

I was recently at the home of a friend of a friend. It's a beautiful home. Well appointed. Smartly decorated. Neat and tidy. Immaculately clean. I was impressed and maybe just a little jealous. Until I saw the refrigerator.

Here's what my refrigerator looks like.

As you can see, there are pictures of my daughter and my dogs. My daughter's school schedule. A funny cartoon I cut from the paper. Some coupons I keep forgetting to use. A card my sister sent me. And this is just the front of the fridge. There's even more stuff on the side.

If you ask me (and no one did, but it's my blog so I'm gonna tell you anyway), this is a normal person's refrigerator. A typical family refrigerator.

So how much crazy are you if you have absolutely nothing stuck to the front of your state-of-the-art stainless steel refrigerator? I stopped feeling unworthy of a Better Homes and Gardens type life in this friend-of-a-friend's home the minute I saw she had absolutely nothing on her fridge. Not a single magnet. Not a photo. Not a "to do" list. Not a recipe. No photos of her family. Nothing! Not even a fingerprint.

I found this so odd, actually disturbing would be more like it, that I began to wonder if she had frozen heads in the freezer. The head of the last person who gave her a magnet for her refrigerator, for instance.

The Return of Florida Native Mom!

Captain's Log Stardate 2012.6.7

It's been nearly a year since my last blog post so I kinda felt like I should start this one with some sort of significant log-in. Not a Trekkie fan? How about this.

Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been 10 months since my last . . . blog post.

While I'm not a Catholic, I survived 12 years of Catholic school so I think that gives me a pass on mocking the confessional.

Speaking of confessions, I have to confess I have missed my blog. But I've also had major writer's block. That's because 10 months ago my whole world changed and it's been hard to find my voice. Namely, my cast of characters changed. Beloved moved on to greener pastures. The Big Kids have all left the nest. It's just Mini-Me and me, Florida Native Mom, left to wander around this big house. But as Mini-Me said when all this change went down "Mom, it's like a new adventure."

Thus the Star Trek reference.

I would say I'm now boldly going where I've never gone before. But truth is, I've been divorced and a single mom before. So it's kind of like being stuck in a time warp and not in a Rocky Horror Picture Show kind of way.

But now I'm ready to come back to the blogosphere and be my same old wisecracking, sassy self. So here goes.

Florida is home to some weird people. Maybe THE home to weird people (myself included). After living here 40plus years, I thought I'd seen everything. Turns out "thought I'd seen it all" is not a phrase you can ever use in Florida. A few weeks ago, I saw a man riding a moped. Not a scooter or a motorcycle, but a 70s era moped. Big deal, right? Only he had a huge cage strapped to the back with his Macaw in it. A man and his Macaw on a moped. At least I hope it was his bird and he hadn't just swiped it! The bird wasn't crying "Help!" so it was probably all on the up and up.

Wish I had a picture to share but I was just too flabbergasted to react quickly enough, and despite the fact that it was an old moped, that guy sure did move! Leaving me without an opportunity to stop and get a shot.

I would have loved to know where they were going . . .