Renovating To Sell....A Story Of Survival

I have spent the past few months renovating/updating a house that my mother in law had previously been renting out. All of this with the goal in mind of putting it on the market.

The first step was to walk through the house and Make an overall assessment of what would need to be done. As I began my journey though the house I realized it was actually a tour through wreckage and disaster. Not only was the house absolutely filthy, but the renters had stolen everything that they possibly could. I had an initial reaction...it was Let us pray....

Since the house had been rented to people who had no belief in cleanliness being next to Godliness, and who also seemed to lack all moral and ethical standards, I knew that cleaning and replacing all of the stolen items alone was going to be a huge undertaking. Not to mention killing all of the spiders and creepy crawlers that had taken up residence, some of which I felt I could saddle up and possibly ride...

When I say that things were stolen from the home, I mean these people went all Jesse James during their departure. They stole the vent covers from the floor in every room, the shower heads, and even the knobs from the bathroom cabinets...Seriously??? Who does that?

As far as the unclean accusation goes let me just say that I didn't see any hope of getting the place clean even if I had a fireman's hose filled with hot water and Twenty Mule Team Borax...

I knew I needed a plan, because I had no idea where to even begin. I tried to go all bibidi bobidi boo on the situation and then I thought...wrong movie. I didn't need glass slippers, I needed a mop and a broom that knew how to independently get busy. So I started yelling the names of the three fairies from sleeping beauty and still nothing...Disney be damned, I was going to have to glove up...

I left the house and made a reentry armed with more cleaning supplies than Hazel could use in a year. I literally had to suit up. Gloves, a mask, clothes that could be thrown away, a stack of lawn sized trash bags, and a few gallons of bleach and I was ready to go. Just let me say before I go any further that as far as fashion statements go, this was not a good look. I also have to add that other peoples dirt freaks me completely out...

I began by picking up the trash and then I thought I'd sweep and mop the floors. First I mopped all of the hardwood floors several times, and then I moved on to the linoleum in the kitchen. I mopped that floor five times with a brand new mop, then I had to trash it, and go and purchase another one...after mopping it about three more times I realized that I would have had better luck if I'd used a scraper. Needless to say a new kitchen floor had to be purchased.

I cleaned the bathrooms next. This of course included toilet seat replacement and enough bleach in the bathtubs to give me chemical pneumonia.

The carpet that was in all three bedrooms belonged on the street, so this was the next thing that was addressed. This can easily be explained by saying that people who don't clean up after themselves certainly don't clean up after their dogs. After ripping up all of the old carpet The next step was a trip to the flooring store. Carpet and Kitchen flooring was picked out, and then I was told that they would be out to put the carpet down after all of the painting had been done....Excuse me??? I had to walk on concrete floors for at least two weeks?? I also had to sleep in one of those bedrooms...It seemed to me, upon hearing this that the ripping up of the old carpet had been done a little prematurely...

During all of this time I had painted what seemed like EVERYTHING in the house, including the real kicker for me, the kitchen cabinets. I had painted so much that I was head to toe in paint of all shades....I looked like a walking Valspar sampler.

The thought of more painting and the concrete floor thing had me ready to turn myself in as crazy. I'm not a complete princess but at this point there were definitely a few tears. I was working myself sick and covered in paint every day of what now had become my life..a few times I'm pretty sure I developed a glistening on my skin that I could call sweat, if I wanted to use vulgar words. At one point I looked down at myself and thought...Dear God t's like Alice In Wonderland .I fell in a hole and landed in something akin to the twilight zone, and I am never going to get my life back.. I'm just saying I haven't had my pearls on in months...There ought to be a law...

I am happy to say that the worst is over as far as manual labor goes, the house is staged, and within a weeks should be on the market...

Am I anxious for it to sell??? Well, I have said that I was going to stagger to the top of the hill out front and wear a sandwich board with the spects listed on it, while parading myself back and forth until I have a taker.....I'll probably even wear my pearls....

Music and Memory Lane

I grew up listening to all genres of music. I listened to rhythm and blues, and pop/rock with my Mama, classic country with my Daddy, and gospel music with my entire family as we attended church together. I had no idea as I was listening to those songs when I was a little girl that later in my life they would take me back to days gone by, but somewhere between my teenage years and adulthood I became aware that indeed they do.

When I hear certain songs my memories are set to music and play in my mind so vividly that all I have to do is close my eyes and I see and feel those moments as if I were there again. I hear a Credence Clearwater Revival song and I am 8 years old, riding in the car with my Mama. It's springtime and the window is down, I am singing along, wide open, my long curly hair is blowing in my face and looking as wild as an untamed lions mane.

I hear Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash or Hank Williams, and my Daddy is at the kitchen counter pouring himself a cup of coffee on a Saturday morning as he softly sings Okie From Muskogee, I Walk The Line, or Your Cheatin' Heart.

Any old time gospel hymn I hear sends me back to Spring Street Baptist Church in Marietta, Georgia where I am, of course, wearing a frilly dress, complete with crinoline, patent leather shoes, and gloves. I am standing from my pew and singing along with the adults as I fan myself to alleviate some of the heat and humidity that crept in during the southern summer.

Bob Seger, The Eagles, or Donna Summer come on the radio and it's 1980, I am a senior in high school, and I haven't a care in the world. I just know that life is amazing. I have my big hair with lots of hair spray and lip gloss working for me. My jeans are so tight breathing is stressful on the seams, and I'm loving life.

A Prince song, some Morris Day and The Time, Atomic Dog, or Planet Rock and I am at the Limelight in Atlanta, Georgia on a Saturday night. I have climbed through a whole in the side of a staircase and arrived on the top of a speaker where I am dancing  in five inch heels, oh yes... I was getting it done..

Billy Idol's Nice Day For A White Wedding... It's 1983 and I am getting married and my daughter is on the horizon.

In The Garden, Amazing Grace, or Precious Memories and I am taken back to funerals of those that I love more dearly than words can convey.

When I hear Lionel Richie's Say You, Say Me, my daughter is two years old and singing Say Me Say Me...and Billy Ray Cyrus' Achy Breaky Heart has my son back at the age of two singing his rendition while playing his little air guitar.

T. Graham Brown's I Tell It Like It Use To Be comes on and I relive my parents painful divorce and how I never wanted to speak about it to anyone who asked how they were, Some Day Lady You'll Accompany Me by Bob Seager, and I'm back dating my husband, whom I lost in 2021, and knowing now that some day it will be true again.

All of the memories of my life, happy, sad, scared, hurt, tender, loving moments are so much better when as I replay them they are set to music.

Sometimes they bring a smile to my face, and sometimes they send tears rolling down my cheeks, accompanied by an incredibly strong ache in my heart for the absence of those I love in my life and the longing to have them here with me.

Time goes by so quickly, and as it does more songs accompany more memories and I welcome that. Whether they are of the happy or painful type I find myself grateful to be taken back to them. The happy ones, because they are treasures to me, and the more painful ones, although they bring tears, are reminders of precious people who have blessed my life and others are reminders of lessons life has taught me.

Many times I play songs intentionally to be taken back to moments in my life that I cherish and other times I turn the radio on and I'm whisked back to a memory unexpectedly.

For me, memory lane set to music is the most amazing place to visit. A place where I spend moments with those I love through my memories of them.  I'm not always sure exactly where the journey into my mind will take me as the music plays, but I do know for sure that I am always grateful for the trip.

Uncle Jesse...Cremation and Mayhem... God Rest His Soul

My husband's Uncle Jesse married the love of his life, Irene, at The Plaza Hotel, in New York City. They lived a wonderful life together. She passed away from that awful disease known as "the C word", and his heart was broken.
After her death, he moved to be near his sister in a small town in Alabama. We all loved having him there when we would go and visit my mother-in-law.

This move was indeed a culture shock for him, but he enjoyed being with his family, and being born in Tennessee, he had a little small town in him and so I believe he was happy there.
He passed away not to long ago, following a heart attack, and our hearts were broken. We immediately left for Alabama to help with his funeral arrangements and to be with family.

I'm not sure exactly how I became part of the funeral planning committee, but when it was time to leave the house for the funeral home, I found myself among the three nominees for the job. The three consisted of my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law's husband, and myself.

We pulled up to the place the family had chosen to handle everything for us, and we were met at the door by a relatively young man named "Josh", who introduced himself as the owner, and invited us into his office.

Now Josh was very friendly, and he informed us that Uncle Jesse was in Birmingham, at the moment, because he had chosen to be an organ donor. He said that he would be brought back there the following day. So far, so good...

My mother-in-law then removed the insurance policy from her purse and announced to Josh that Uncle Jesse had requested to be cremated, just as his wife had been. Josh then reviewed the policy and informed my mother-in-law that the policy only covered burial, not cremation.

He gave us the price for the cremation, and then we inquired about the cost of the viewing room and casket rental. Well the costs were more than my mother-in-law expected, and this must have shown on her face, because that's when Josh got all small town on us....and let me say before I go any further that I could not make this up...

Josh looked around the room at the three of us and he said, in what seemed like to me, a car salesman voice, "Tell you what I'm gonna do. I can lay Mr. Hatcher on a metal table, that's what we lay 'em on to prepare 'em for viewing, and, I can pull a sheet up to about here (giving us a visual, by laying his arm across the top of his chest), and I can roll him in to the make-up room, and you can look at him for free."

I immediately gripped the sides of my chair in an attempt to remain conscious and in an upright position. I could see my mother-in-law's face as she contemplated the idea. After realizing that my sister-in-law's husband was going to remain silent, I had no choice but to intervene.

Just as I was opening my mouth to speak, my mother-in-law turned to me and she said what do you think? I wanted to respond with "I think we have just entered the twilight zone", but having been raised right, I instead composed myself as best I could, and told her that I didn't think Uncle Jesse would want us to see him like that. When she still appeared to be giving the idea some thought I knew I had to just speak up. I turned to Josh, and I said "Josh, as much as we appreciate your kindness, we are going to forgo the whole make-up room offer and Just have the memorial service.

Josh just smiled and said "well, alright". He then reached down under his desk and pulled out a small plastic box and announced that Uncle Jesse's remains would be brought back to them in a container like the one he was holding. This box looked very cheap to me. I inquired about a nice urn by asking him if they had any there available for purchase that we could see.

His response? "No we sure don't, but you can go right on over to Hobby Lobby and get you one. They've got some nice ones." At that point, I had lost the ability to speak, as my processing wheel was trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Uncle Jesse's funeral arrangements were going to include a trip to a hobby shop.

I continued to sit quietly as things like who would be officiating were planned and before I knew it Josh was shaking our hands and we were on our way out the door.

We were heading back to Uncle Jesse's house when my mother-in-law said "we have to go to Hobby Lobby now.".
Well my sister-in-law's husband said he needed to be dropped back off at the house, because he had something else to do, and was already running late.

I knew at that point that I needed back up, because this whole process had begun to be over my load. I pulled my phone out of my purse and called my daughter, who was back at the house with my husband and son. I informed her of our little shopping excursion, and told her that I expected her father to be front and center on the driveway in two minutes to fill the seat in the car that would be vacated by my Sister-in-law's husband.

As we pulled up to the house, both my husband and daughter were waiting, but she evidently hadn't informed him of the plans, because he looked at me and said "what's wrong? Where are we going?" I said "Hobby Lobby, get in!".

During the short ride, I let my husband know that we were going to purchase an "urn" for his uncle's remains. Due to my mother-in-law's presence, I spoke in a tone that I hoped would convey that this was where everyone went to make such a purchase.

We pulled into a parking space, and as my husband was getting out of the car with my daughter, my mother-in-law said she was to upset to go in after being at the funeral home. She said that we could just pick one out and it would be fine. I saw a buck passing opportunity at that point, and said to him "I think I'll just sit with your mom and let the two of you go in. The funeral home was quite a lot to deal with."

They returned to the car a few minutes later having made a purchase. My husband pulled it out of the bag to show it to us. It was very nice and in what I would call "manly" colors. My Mother-in-law immediately asked him how much he had paid for it. He said "don't worry about it Mama." She said "I want to know. How much was it?" He told her that he had paid 75.00 for it.

As I was convincing myself that the urn was nice, and that we could just super glue the lid on after placing Uncle Jesse's remains inside, and telling myself that after all, it was only temporary, (he had requested that his ashes be spread in a New York location, with the remains of his beloved Irene's)..My mother-in-law spoke again.

She said "Give me the receipt.". My husband said "What?". She repeated herself, and he then asked her why she wanted the receipt. Her response made me aware that I was definitely in the twilight zone, and it was not a short episode, it was a movie version.

She said "I'm going to return it after the service.". All I could think at that point was Dear God...No! I turned to my husband with a look that said seriously???? He said "Mama, you can't return this after Jesse's ashes have been in it.", and her response to that may have trumped Josh's make-up room offer.

She said simply "I can rinse it out.". Needless to say, for at least the second time that day, I was stunned into silence. My husband then looked at her and said "Mama, we are not going to do that.". She wasn't giving it up, and because she was already upset, I told him to just hand her the receipt, and whispered to him that we'd figure out a way to get around the "rinsing out" later.

We managed to make it through the rest of the "planning" phase, and the morning of the memorial service arrived.
As you may have guessed, my husband and I arrived at the funeral home/Chapel still lacking a plan. As we entered the front door, Josh was there to inform us that Uncle Jesse's remains would be arriving at any moment.

We proceeded into a viewing room, that had been provided for the family to gather, and a few minutes later I spotted Josh out of my peripheral vision, and he was holding the small box that I knew contained Uncle Jesse.

I bolted over to where my husband was standing, and I said, with much urgency, "There's Josh and he's holding Jesse, do something!!".

We then walked very briskly over to where Josh was standing, and my husband signed for the remains, took them from Josh, and kept the line moving right out the front door. I was following my husband and I realized he was making a hasty retreat to our car. I said "What are we doing?" He said "The only thing we can do.". I said "which is?", because at that point I lacked the ability to buy a clue. He responded with "I'll show you.".

He proceeded to open the trunk of the car and placed Uncle Jesse's remains inside next to the Hobby Lobby bag containing the urn. He then opened the bag and removed the urn, placed the lid on it, and closed the trunk. I glared at him in shock and horror.

I said "You've just closed Uncle Jesse up in the trunk, and since his memorial service isn't scheduled to be held here in the parking lot you had better get him out.".

He looked at me with the look of a man that said I have made an emergency executive decision and you need to just get on board with it. As the situation gained clarity for me, and I realized my husband's intent, I had to stop (donkey Girl Scout that I am) and pray for forgiveness for the two of us, although, I wasn't even sure we had sinned. I did recognize the fact that I had just become an accomplice.
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We then marched ourselves into the Chapel, my husband holding the urn, and placed it in it's place of honor, so as to represent Uncle Jesse's presence at his memorial service.

Absolutely no one was the wiser as the memorial service began, but I couldn't hear a word being said above my own thoughts, and there were many...
Things like..
We are like criminals..
We've gone all Bonnie and Clyde on this situation..
This is soo disrespectful...
We are sorry God...
We are sorry Uncle Jesse...
up to and including.....Dear God I know where the remains of the body are hidden...

I don't know if God and Uncle Jesse understood that we had to protect the future shoppers of Hobby Lobby, but I have to hope so. I do know that Uncle Jesse had an amazing sense of humor. I have heard that some people attend their funeral/memorial services in spirit, and all I can say is Uncle Jesse forgive us...and if you saw us, well...You know your sister, and I hope you laughed all the way to Heaven.

Your ashes were mixed with those of your beloved Irene, who left before you, and scattered where, and as you requested.

Rest in peace with all of our love and the love of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We will miss you very much and you will live on in our hearts always....

Looking Like A Train Wreck? Mama Ain't Having It

Life has it's hills and valleys for everyone, and recently I have been in a valley. Okay, it's more like a crevice the size of the Grand Canyon. Let's just say that we, at my house, have been experiencing some personal issues of the sort that would cause interruption in anyone's marital bliss. My husband and I had a few words (were in a huge fuss actually, but my Granny always thought having words sounded so much nicer), and I decided that I would just bolt. I'm over it and I was leaving, so I grabbed my purse and keys, slid on my flip flops, stormed out the door, got in my car and went right to see my Mama.

On my way to Mama's house, I had a chance to cool down, and as my temper began it's decline, I began to take a closer look at the fashion statement I was making. It took me about five seconds to ascertain that it was not a good one. I discovered that in all of my anger, and with my "I'll show him attitude", I had chosen to enter the public needing a shower, wearing an Old t-shirt, yoga pants, no make-up, with naturally curly hair going straight crazy, in flip flops and wearing no bra...Oh yeah..Lookin' goooood.

The rational side of myself knew good and well that when my Mama saw me she was going to have a hissy fit, but I just had to keep going. I needed her. I was in personal crisis. So, knowing full well that my appearance resembled that of a complete and total train wreck, and that in my mother's book there was no excuse to justify being in such a state, I did not turn my car around. I had to have me some Mama can make it all better time.

I walked in the back door and Mama was standing in the kitchen. Just as soon as she saw me her assessment began. I could see it in her eyes. Before she could say anything I said, "I know Mama, and I'm going to take a shower". Well, Mama left the kitchen, and I got sidetracked talking to my twin sister, who was also there. I poured myself a cup of coffee and began eating a chocolate chip cookie, the size of my head, and before I knew it, I had put the shower on the back burner

About two bites into my cookie my Mama made a reentry into the kitchen and she said "Arlene, I thought you were getting in the shower. I put a towel and some clothes in the bathroom for you.". You see, train wreck that I was my Mama wasn't having "sidetracked". I answered her with "I am Mama, but I needed a snack and some coffee". She said "Well get done with it and go and get your shower."
Needless to say I gave her a "yes ma'am" and emerged from the shower about 20 short minutes later, feeling much better than when I arrived.

I headed right back into the kitchen for more coffee and conversation. Mama was there waiting for me. She had a few reminders for me about "not letting myself go"...She said "Arlene, you cannot let yourself go around looking a mess. People will talk." I said "Mama, I am in personal crisis" and she said "Personal crisis is no excuse for not taking care of yourself.". "You can't just leave the house looking all undone". I guess it's safe to assume Mama isn't buying that whole flip flops are the glass slippers of the south concept.

She looked at me again and she said "come on", and she motioned for me to follow her down the hall. I asked her where we were going and she said back to the bathroom. You hair has dry ends. She began pulling every hair care product known to man out from under the sink and putting them on the counter. She picked one up and said "Cup your hand". I said what is this and she said it's leave in conditioner and you need it. Cup your hand. Then there was another one that followed and I said what's this for and she said just rub your hands together and work it through your hair. I was doing as I was told, and she said no, not that way, Look down, and then go back to front, back to front...She left me then with two round brushes, a regular hairbrush, and instructions to dry my hair.

When I came out she said now just look how shiny your hair is, and doesn't it smell good. I said yes ma'am it sure does and thank you. When she was satisfied that I looked at least halfway presentable, we went back to the kitchen for more coffee with my sister. When we sat down at the table, she looked right at me, and she said now, what brought you out of your house in such a discombobulated dither? I explained that I had literally ran out the door, telling my husband that I was leaving him for good.(As I said earlier, this valley was of Grand Canyon magnitude).

Now after declaring something of that much importance, you would think that Mama might ask me if we were getting a divorce or something along those lines, but no she did not. This woman knows how to prioritize. She said in her I'm afraid to ask tone, "Oh no Arlene, Did you get your pearls?". I just about cracked up. Instead I said "Mama, you might find this hard to believe, but no, I did not get my pearls.

As you might have guessed, Mama was horrified by the poor planning executed in my rapid departure. She just looked at me with this stunned expression on her face, and she said "Go and get your pearls".

After a few short minutes, I was able to calm her by giving her assurance that at some point, I would make a reentry and do so, with my priorities in order. I said, don't worry Mama, when I go back, I'll make a list and get the most important things in the house...Pearls, other jewelry, Blow dryer, hair brushes, make-up, perfume, lotion, actual shoes in place of the flip flops, and without question, a bra.

When I had given her the short list of important items that I intended to go and retrieve, said that I just couldn't believe that I had left without grabbing my pearls, told her that I knew that I really had to learn to keep it together even under the most tumultuous circumstances, because she had raised me better...She gave me that everything's going to be alright hug, told me that if I needed her for anything at all to just call her, or come back by, and I kissed her cheek.

As I headed out the door I couldn't help but chuckle to myself, and think how much I love my Mama...She is right, if you look your best, you feel better, and she is a firm believer in that theory. Later that evening I thought about our time together that day, and I called her and I recommended that she listen to Miranda Lambert's "Mama's Broken Heart". I said It reminds me of you and me. She said okay, she would listen to it.

I saw her again today, and I asked if she had heard the song. She said yes, that she had. I said well, do you think it sounds like us at all? She said "Oh Yes".. Mama has her standards, and her ladylike rules, and she makes no apologies for them. To be honest, after she fancied me up a bit, I did feel much better. As a matter of a fact, the next time I feel like my life is going to fall apart in some way, I'm not going to run...I'm just going to stop and take a page from my Mama's book.

I'm going to pull some personal maintenance, get a manicure and pedicure, apply my make-up, put on some extra lip gloss, curl my hair, and find an outfit in my closet that says I've got all this mess under complete control...

My Mama didn't raise me to be a train wreck....Thanks Mama...I love you...

Zumba : Stripper Moves Without The Pole

I was sitting at work, talking to a friend of mine, and I casually mentioned that I needed to start exercising more. Okay, scratch the word more from that last sentence and you now have a true statement. Just as soon as the words had left my mouth, her face lit up and she smiled.

Somehow I knew immediately that I was in trouble. She said "I have the perfect thing for you to start doing". I asked her what it was, and she said, "I do Zumba every Tuesday and Thursday night and you can join the class with me." She then assured me that it was an awesome class, filled with wonderful women, and that they were ALL women..because I had informed her that I could not exercise comfortably in a co-ed environment. It's just not what I do.

After a little consideration, and internal conversation, I decided to join the class. I put my yoga pants and t-shirt on, laced up my Nikes, filled my water bottle, and grabbed a floral perfumed hankie, just in case I should happen to work myself up to the glistening stage and I drove to class.

When I arrived everyone was smiling and talking and stretching so I joined them and after positioning myself in the far back corner, I began to stretch and smile as well...No problem...

Then...The music started. Let me just tell you that there was no warm-up. It was full blown cardio right off the rip, complete with hip thrusts, rotations, and suggestive dance moves that I feel sure were seen at the Gold Club during it's hey day.

I couldn't have been expected to do more gyrating than I did that night if I had been holding on to a stripper pole, wearing a catholic school girl uniform and sporting my brightest red lip gloss.

There were enough moves and dance routines going on in that room to make the Pussy Cat Dolls proud..

My hips hadn't moved like that in years and my thighs were begging for mercy. I most definitely had my workout on..and I meant to keep up or die trying....

Needless to say I was only about one or two songs in before I hit the glistening phase and had to pull out my hankie. I was blotting my neck with it, when one of the women said to me.."You should bring a towel." I thought to myself a towel? Woman I am not mopping my face up with a towel like some football player on the sidelines after a 70 yard run...it ain't happening....Of course, what I said out loud was "Thank you..I'll keep that in mind."

I am proud to say that I did manage to keep up and with all that was going on, the hour seemed to fly by, believe that or not. It ended and I had managed to survive it without the need for a 911 call being placed to have them dispatch EMS. I felt pretty good about that.

I did go back for the very next class and have continued to do so, because to be honest it is lots of fun and I actually enjoy it very much while I'm there.

I admit that the morning after each class does have a way of reminding me that this sort of repeated rhythmic gyration can cause a bit of discomfort...but it's not so much that I'll stop...I can't stop..If I do, how am I going to perfect my moves so that I'll be ready when I get the stripper pole I've ordered for my office...

Stripper pole??? you might ask....I am dangerous like that, but in this case...you can breathe easy..I'm only kidding about the pole order..I haven't completely lost it..I do realize that my pole dancing should remain in my imagination, and I am well aware that one just can't do random things like work a pole without caution these days.... I mean seriously people..There's YouTube...

My Mother Raised Me To Know Better.....

My Mama raised me to live by certain rules, and she gave me plenty of good advice. The rules were all good ones, which were put in place in hopes of keeping me out of trouble with her and the good Lord. The advise ..well it was to save me from doing "great things" that she knew would cause me regret. It was given as sort of a personal protection plan.

The advise included things such as; "Don't believe a boy who ever says "If you love me you will.", it's just a ploy to get you to comply.", and "Always be a lady, even when people put you in situations that make it difficult." I have found that any time I have tested my mother's advise, with some hard headed behavior of my own, she is proven to be correct..

You would think, at my age, I would have learned just to trust her, and not do things that I have been "advised" against doing. Well, unfortunately, I continue to learn the hard way...

Another piece of advise that I was given is "Never leave the house without your makeup on, and dressing decently, because you WILL run into people you know. It's not just a possibility Arlene, it is going to happen..every time!"

Now even Coco Chanel was quoted as saying: "I don't understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little, if only out of politeness, and then you never know maybe that's the day she has a date with destiny, and it's best to be as pretty as possible for destiny."

Well you guessed it..I didn't listen to my Mama or Coco Chanel ..

last Saturday afternoon...

I had been cleaning the house, and we were expecting Company for dinner and to watch a Georgia Football Game. My husband promised to cook, but at the last minute informed me that I needed to go to the store and cook because he had changed his mind and wasn't going to do it.

I realized in that moment that he needed killing, but I didn't have time to take care of that, I had to get to the store.

Now let me give you a visual on my personal presentation..T-shirt, Sweatpants, flip flops, and absolutely no makeup whatsoever...not even clear lip gloss.

When I grabbed my car keys, I glanced in the mirror and for one fleeting moment I could hear my Mama saying "Arlene, Don't do it." I told myself at that point that I would hurry and that there was always the possibility that my mother was wrong and I wouldn't see a soul that I knew. I ran out of the house and got in the car..and it gets better..

The top was down on my convertible Volkswagen and did I take the time to put it up...No I did not. The result?? To add to the fashion statement that I was already making, I now had crazy hair. Perfect.

I got to the store and ran through it like something wild, grabbing what I needed and glancing around like I needed to be in the witness protection program. I went to the register and checked out...I was feeling pretty good about making it out the door unseen, and then...

As I was pushing the cart toward the exit I ran right into one of my new co-workers and I wanted the floor to swallow me up!! I died a thousand deaths in that moment.

I apologized for looking such a mess, and he was very sweet about it and said that I looked fine, but seriously?? Oh yeah, I knew better. I got in my car and went home berating myself the entire way...

Later that evening I called my Mama and I confessed what I had done,and told her that she had never been more right.

All I know is I don't care how old I am..The next time I hear my Mama in my ear, I'm going to stop and listen...And then more importantly I'm going to amend the situation into rule/advisement compliance before I carry on...I love you Mama...

Shower Blindness: A Condition Of The Middle Aged Woman

I am at the age now that I have to admit I need my glasses. I need them to read menus, labels, directions, just about anything. My husband, even though he's older than I am, remains in denial.

Although I have convinced myself that the glasses are just an accessory, I am still standing on the front line against wrinkles, because I am positive they are not now, nor could they ever be, an accessory.

With my defense against wrinkles in mind I have purchased just about every day cream, night cream, wrinkle filler, acidic peel, dark spot remover,and facial scrub known to man.

Anyway, let me put the two together for you, so that you know where I am going with this. I went into the bathroom this morning and prepared to take a shower. I took my glasses off and put them on the counter.

I decided that I would use one of my new facial scrubs in the shower that I haven't tried yet (Still looking for that miracle). I was going to exfoliate like no body's business.

Let me just say that it seemed like a good idea at the time. The first thing I did, after I got in, was look on the back of the tube to read the directions. Good Lord, they were so small they may as well have saved their ink. I couldn't read a single word. I can't even see things of a decent size anymore, much less trying to see something under running water that's written in fine print. It's a wonder I haven't hit a main artery just trying to shave my legs.

The fact that I was going to be unable to read the directions in the shower never crossed my mind. I simply wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe that was because I feel confident that I know how to use shampoo: wash, rinse, repeat, and I also have enough sense at this point to know to leave my conditioner on for 3 or 4 minutes.

Facial scrubs were so simple when I was a teenager, but now there can be several steps involved. The thing is, with a new product, that is to be used near my eyes, containing God only knows what, that is suppose to help me scrub my skin down to reveal my hidden youth, I feel much better when I have a little direction.

I mean good Lord, I could just hear myself explaining to my husband that I had caused myself to go blind while in the shower trying to exfoliate.

At that point, I stuck my arm out of the shower and reached for my glasses. I was a little hesitant to do it, because I wasn't really very thrilled at the idea of a clearer visual than I already had of myself in my birthday suit, but I just couldn't risk losing my sight to avoid it.

I found the glasses and put them on. Did they help me in my quest for a more youthful look? No they did not. They immediately fogged up and were rendered useless.

My first thought was that I needed to find some of that stuff that people put on their windshields to keep them from fogging up in the rain and spray my glasses with it, but then I decided that was ridiculous and just became frustrated.

I gave the tube a fling right out of the shower and the glasses went behind it. I washed my face with a bar of Dove soap and decided to give myself a break from the facial products for today, due to the stress factor.

It's now almost 9:30 p.m. and I haven't put so much as a drop of lotion on my face, which is a record for me. I probably look a hot mess, but on the upside I don't know for sure, because my glasses are still on the bathroom floor...

I am sure that I will give up my resolve in the morning, and resume the use of my lotions and potions, but for tonight, I'm over it...I have to get some rest...I heard somewhere that stress causes wrinkles...

Besides...Tomorrow I have to write that company about their fine print..They obviously need some enlightenment. Can they be that seriously ignorant about the fact that there won't be a twenty five year old in the shower with 20/20 vision trying to read the directions on the back of their product...I can't be tired when I try to explain to them all that they have put me through...

Who knows..maybe they'll write me back or call me and I can offer to come in and pour water over their heads while they try to read the fine print on their product with a pair of fogged up reading glasses..You know, sort of a reenactment..I want them to get a feel for just what I'm trying to say...Nothing like having the true experience for oneself to drive the point home...