This is Conversation... Really??

Okay, so what's up with conversation lately? I'm finding it more difficult to have any intelligent exchange with anyone these days. So many are using blah, blah, blah as part of their story telling. It goes something like this. "I was talking to a friend at work about Christmas shopping, how crowded the malls are and blah, blah, blah, WTF really? If the story you are telling me is so uninteresting that you have to include that phrase, then do you really think I am captivated by your words? How about you fill in the blah, blah, blah with something more compelling. Hell, make something up, I don't care. I just don't want to spend 15 minutes of my time listening to a story, that includes 8 minutes of this non-conversational fill in!

There are several other words I would love you to either use correctly or keep them out of your freakin' conversation. For example "Epic". Seriously, epic does not describe your morning because you got just the right amount of foam on your cappuccino or you breezed through three red lights on your way to work and didn't get caught! I would insert the definition here, but I'd rather you look it up for yourself so you can get a clear understanding of the meaning of the word. That in itself would be fuckin' EPIC! (Yes, I know, I used that incorrectly too, see how stupid that is!)

So, not just for my sake, but for every other person that is stuck in a conversation with you, be forewarned, "whatever" and "like" are equally annoying and I will walk away from you mid sentence!

Much Love—Jodi

I Was Old Before Christmas

A Poem by Jodi L. Clark

I was old before Christmas, the year's gone by quick.
The clock keeps on moving, clickety, click.
It seems that just yesterday, we were still spry,
still in the delusion that we could still fly.

"Fly hell", what is this, I think to myself,
I'm lucky if I can still hold on to health.
We wonder and ponder over so many regrets,
we should have the sense to not have so many debts.

Again, it is Christmas, the cash starts to flow,
I'm spending on shit, Oh God, I don't even know.
There's twenty bucks flying out, righty and lefty,
the credit card interest I'm sure, will be hefty.

But that's not the half of it, shall I go on,
to contemplate over what else has gone wrong?
Well let me just start by letting you know,
that when you are my age, you hit a new low.

The tit's start to wander further down south,
and complaining about it continues to flow from my mouth.
Oh it's not just the sagging of tits and rearend,
my brain is not functioning very well either, my friend.

We slightly remember life without pain,
when dancing and singing, kept us from going insane.
Now we're just happy to slide out of our beds,
and thankful to doctor's who prescribe all the meds.

I know life's a bitch, and to this I will shout,
Let's get our groove on before time has run out!
So remember my motto for the new year to come,
We can keep it a groovin' with pain killers and rum.



Merry Christmas
and Happy Holidays — Jodi

Happy Birthday to Me!

Well, I woke up this morning thinking no one would remember my birthday today. Really it was no big deal, took me a minute to remember myself! Needless to say, I was delightfully surprised to see that I am "Social Network Rich"! It started with just a few emails and FaceBook friends sending birthday wishes. I had stepped out for a while to do some errands and when I returned I had 55 emails in my inbox, took me a good while to get through them. So if by chance I missed saying "thank you" don't think I didn't appreciate it, but I'm damn old and those emails were overwhelming!

That's right, I'm old. Today I turned 52 years old and I'm certainly not liking it—nor am I aging gracefully. I'm finding it more difficult everyday to look in that mirror. Every time I do, I discover some new monstrosity carved into my face! Whether it be a new wrinkle, an ever darkening age spot, or something else unrecognizable! I keep looking at moles and questioning whether I've seen them before and whether I'm seeing a change due to Melanoma! (I did spend a lot of time laying in the sun as a kid, so that paranoia makes perfect sense to me) I can't see much without my glasses, so I've been opting to not wear them when I am anywhere near a mirror—blurry seems to put a lighter perspective on things.

Hubby, was wonderful today. After working over 13 hours last night, he still managed to come home this morning with a wonderful gift—a comfy white robe, which I needed, my old one looks really beat! He also brought a massive 4 layer chocolate cake with peanut butter icing (my favorite). How long do you think the cake sat there before I busted it open? I opened it to smell it—then I shut the box. I opened it to taste the icing—then I shut the box. Finally, After about 45 minutes I could no longer resist—got the knife and dove in. I'm supposed to be dieting right now—so much for that! Awe fuck off, it's my birthday, I'm allowed! I'm going to have to take the remaining cake over to a client or something tomorrow because my sweet tooth will definitely not allow me to have that sucker in this house for very long!

So all in all, my day was good. It's lovely to know that I have an enormous network of friends who care—or maybe I just spend way to much time on the internet!

Much Love to All—Jodi

Men Are The SHIT!

So Hubby and I just started dieting—NO pardon me, we're on a "lifestyle" change. Anyway, we started about a week ago and as I started reading more about men and women's metabolism I came to realize that generally men tend to drop weight quicker than women. Well, ain't that just the shit for him! He has lost 10lbs, I have lost 7. Now don't get me wrong losing 7lbs in less than a week, is very good, but apparently I'm going to have to work twice as hard to get the same results!

It has occurred to me, that men (I hate to say it) really do have an easier time with just about everything! They can pee standing up, they don't get their periods, go through menopause or have babies! (she laughs, I would really love to see my hubby squeeze something the size of watermelon out of his ass!) I know, women can do so much more than men... but don't we have to work so much harder at it than they do? Sure I can pee standing up if I really wanted to and I betcha I could actually make it in the bowl too while doing it! I guess the consolation here is that during my research I also discovered that women usually live 5 to 10 years longer than a man.

So maybe I can't piss my name in the snow, grow a beard (well not yet anyway) or lose weight as quick as a man, but I'll be around 10 years longer than he is to continue to do the awesome things that us woman do!

I would make a list of our awesomeness here, but I'm tired of typing now, so feel free to fill in the blank!

Woman are awesome because we can _______________________!

Much Love—Jodi

How "Not" to compliment a Big Girl

I have to admit I'm not very good at accepting a compliment, never have been. For some reason it embarrasses me. Especially when I'm being complimented on my looks. Well, you all know by now—if you have been following my blog, that my weight is definitely an issue.

This brings me to my subject for today. I am reminded of the time I was at the mall in the food court getting a slice of pizza with my son and the kid behind the counter, poor fella, asked me when I was due. Apparently he thought I was pregnant. I started busting up laughing and said, "honey, I'm not pregnant, I'm just fat!" He turned about ten colors of red. I actually felt really bad for him—for about a minute, then realized, I probably did him a favor. I'm fairly certain he learned a huge lesson that day and will never make that mistake again!

There are others that see my fat ass coming and feel they must compliment me in order to help boost my confidence. They say lovely things like " have you lost weight, you look really good" As I mentioned, hard for me to accept a compliment. My mind automatically thinks "oh, I see, so I looked "bad" before?" I know it's bullshit because I could lose 15 lbs and it really wouldn't show. That's like a skinny bitch losing 2 lbs and someone noticing. Seriously! Not only have I not lost weight, I haven't lost any brain cells either. So gimme a break. I know you all mean well, but I would rather you say nothing at all then to say something stupid and unbelievable as "have you lost weight" Believe me if I lose any significant amount of weight I will be telling everyone, so you'll know.

The other thing that bothers me is when I mention something about being fat—which actually happens often because I am so self-conscious about it, you say "awe, you're not fat" Have you seen me? Do me a favor and just laugh with me when I crack my jokes and don't try to make yourself feel better by throwing in that little tidbit. My eye sight is getting worse, but I can still see!

I know all of this sounds really harsh, but seriously, I am a big girl. I know I'm big and it's not a mystery to me how I came to be the voluptuous wonder you see before you! So please give only sincere compliments like, "that top looks really good on you" (if it does), or "love your necklace" (if you do). Please don't try to patronize me into feeling good about myself. I have my big girl panties on and I'm dealing with it!

Much Love—Jodi

My Tantrum—Right Back at Ya!

I know I'm gonna get flack from a few parents out there with this one—but I don't care, it has to be said! Does your child throw temper tantrums at the dinner table at home? Then why the hell would you bring that same child into the restaurant where I am trying to enjoy my dinner! I hear parents say things like "so sorry, we have been out all day and she's very tired" Then keep the fucking kid at home and get some take-out. Apparently you would prefer to come to this restaurant and let your damn kid stand up in the booth so that they can entertain my ass. Yeah, lady, your daughter playing with my ponytail was only cute the first time, now it's just annoying!

Wouldn't it make sense that now that there is no longer a smoking section in restaurants, that we designate that area as a kid free zone? I really have nothing against children, but I think they should not be allowed in restaurants other than McDonald's, Burger King and the like. And BTW isn't there a restaurant designated just for your kids? I believe it's called "Chuck E. Cheese! I think running around and screaming at the top of your lungs is allowed there. Maybe you should familiarize yourself with that establishment.

I'm really not trying to be a hater of children. I love children— just not yours! When my kid was growing up I was smart enough to know that when he was 0-5 years of age, he had no business eating with the adult population. I kept him at home. On the rare occasion that I did take him out to eat, he was forewarned "I will swipe your ass up out of that seat faster than you can get tears out of your eyes—do not play with me" That's right, I was a mean mommy. Guess what else, my child listened to me when I told him to do something and knew better than to talk back about it too!

So take that!! — I look forward to your comments, LOL

Much Love—Jodi

Send This to Seven Friends Within the Next 10 Minutes!

I know it looks like I'm getting lazy about the blog post lately, but really another email came to me today and it was so humorous to me—I felt compelled to share it. So here goes...

As we approach the end of another month - I want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year. I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.

I no longer open a bathroom door without using a paper towel, or have the waitress put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel.

I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.

I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed..hmmmm

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking one's nose.

Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.

I MUST ALSO SEND MY SPECIAL THANKS to whoever sent me the one about rat shit in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.

ALSO, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's Novena has granted my every wish.

I can't have a drink in a bar because I'll wake up in a bathtub full of ice with my kidneys gone.

I can't eat at KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes, feet or feathers.

I can't use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

THANKS TO ALL OF YOU I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

BECAUSE OF YOUR CONCERN, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer buy gas without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer doesn't crawl in my back seat when I'm filling up.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Fanta since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.

I no longer use Cling Wrap in the microwave because it causes seven different types of cancer.

AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face.. Disfiguring me for life.

I no longer go to the movies because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS when I sit down

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or Fed Ex since they are actually Al Qaeda agents in disguise. And I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore , and Uzbekistan

I no longer buy cookies from Neiman-Marcus since I now have their recipe.

THANKS TO YOU I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big black snake could be lurking under the seat and cause me instant death when it bites my ass.

I no longer drive my car because buying gas from some companies supports Al Qaeda, and buying gas from all the others supports South American dictators.

I can't do any gardening because I'm afraid I'll get bitten by the Violin Spider and my hand will fall off.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p.m. tomorrow afternoon, and the fleas from 120 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's best friend's beautician . .

Oh, by the way.....

A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse.

Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.

PS: I now keep my toothbrush in the living room, because I was told by e-mail that water splashes over 6 ft. out of the toilet.

Can we possibly stop believing everything we receive in an email now! C'mon people!

Much Love—Jodi

Today I appreciate Andy Rooney

I received this in an email today and loved it so much, I thought I would share it with you. This is Andy Rooney's take on women over age 50.


As I grow in age, I value women over 50 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 50 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, 'What are you thinking?' She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 50 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.

Women over 50 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 50.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 50 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest.. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk, if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Yes, we praise women over 50 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 50, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.

For all those men who say, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!

Andy Rooney is a really smart guy!

Much Love—Jodi

Facebook is the "Shit"

I don't know about you, but over the last year I have been having a great time with FaceBook. I have found so many forgotten friends. Friends from childhood, high school and everywhere in between. Just today I met up with two sisters from my old neighborhood. We had an awesome lunch! As soon as we sat down at the table we started reminiscing about old times. The poor waiter had to come back three times before we finally decided we would all have the salad bar. And after we paid our checks he came back again to say "I'm not rushing you ladies out, I just wanted to check and see if there is anything else I can get you?" Yeah, right— what he was really saying was "bitches, get the hell outta here if you're not gonna order anything else!" I think we chatted maybe 45 minutes more, ha, ha!

We talked about so much in such a short lunch. We remembered people from the old neighborhood. We talked about old boyfriends and our first sexual experiences. And of course, I had to mention that I once started to add up my sexual partners and when I had gotten to my second hand, I decided perhaps I didn't really want to know—so I stopped counting. Hey, what did you expect? I was a popular girl when I was young! Since then, the pool has dried up quite a bit, LOL. Hubby is the only one for me now and I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear about the counting my fingers thing.

I have gotten reacquainted with at least five old friends that I have found on Facebook. It really is an excellent tool. I even found my first boyfriend and he reminded me that I was his first love and first kiss. How sweet is that to remember after all these years. So many high school friends have been located on FB. And the 35th Class Reunion should be a bit easier to plan this year. Yep, that's right bitches, I'm fuckin old! If you're not there yet, believe me it's coming quicker than you can imagine!

At first I hated the fact that becoming friends with the "old friends" meant that they would look at my photos and see a much older—much wider me. But since then, I've realized that I get to look at their photos too—I no longer feel so bad!!


Much love til next time—Jodi

I'm trying to do something here!

For weeks now I have been watching the news reports and all the images from the Gulf oil spill. It is heart wrenching to me. Like most of us, I feel helpless to do anything about it. Just watching it and realizing that the oil is just going to keep pumping in the ocean is just devastating. I live in Pennsylvania, the closest ocean waters are in New Jersey, Maryland and Delaware, so there is no immediate or personal effect to me, except the fact that I would love my grandchildren to also be able to enjoy the ocean and beaches as I have.

With all that said, I would like to convey a little bit of information about BP. Here is a link to BP's website: http://www.bp.com where you can find BP Brands. If you navigate the website (about BP, our brands) you will see other companies BP owns (this is a small list, with some research you can find many more). Not only can we boycott BP oil, but also not make purchases from their affiliates. I, for one, will not consciously be purchasing anything from BP.

One of the things I've noticed lately, and this doesn't surprise me—is that the gas stations in my area that held the BP logo have now changed to Gulf. They have done this in order to try to fool the public into believing they no longer associate with BP. Well, Gulf is also owned by BP!! I have done a bit of research on other oil companies to determine where I can purchase oil and feel a bit better about it. (damn, I wish I had an electric car) I've found that Sunoco, not only refines their own oil, but they do not purchase foreign oil. Since we all have to purchase it, at least we can buy from an American company that purchases in the US, not in foreign countries.

I know someone is going to write to me to point out that by boycotting BP stations we are only hurting the independent station owners and not BP. I have several thoughts on that, one is, if they are truly independent owners, then purchase items from inside their stores and not the gas. As far as I understand, they don't make a lot of money from gas sales anyway. I also feel that whether or not they are independently owned is not the point. This is what happens when you are associated with a company that has caused so much devastation to so many! If BP had not been so concerned about saving money in the first place, this could have been avoided. All this devastation to save a buck, well, now my BUCKS will be spent elsewhere!!

Here's hoping the environment is not ruined for our grandchildren, thanks BP!!

Til next time—Jodi

Social Media Manic

A year ago I had no understanding of social networking nor would I have ever imaged I would become so involved in it. Selling online has opened up a whole new world to me. Over the last few months I have overloaded myself with all the outlets available to me. I have made some new twitter buddies, have more blog followers and within a period of two weeks can boast 50 Fan page followers. I have discovered that the internet is a treasure trove of opportunities to get my little shop noticed. It's a beautiful thing and easy to do. So, I certainly wouldn't want to complain. However, I am having an awful time keeping up with it all. Between, the three Etsy teams, twitter, FB, LinkedIn, blogging and who knows how many handmade sites I've joined, it's been difficult responding and posting to all of them. Especially since I have, what I like to call, "menopause retardation", definition: the inability to concentrate, multitask or walk and chew gum simultaneously. (Some days I have trouble with just the walking part.)


So, this week my computer decided it was also overloaded and started making a noise like a jet engine ready to take flight! Turns out it just needed a new fan, but it still took a couple days to get it fixed. Needless to say, I totally missed my follow friday posts and couldn't list my new creations in the shop! I get a bit paranoid that if I am missing from my social network for more than a few hours, I will be forgotten and all my efforts would have been for nothing. You wouldn't forget me, right?

After going through days of withdrawal, (Hello, my name is Jodi, I am a twitter addict!) I finally am back up and running. Imagine my horror when I discovered I had no new shop hearts, no sales, and only five new twitter followers! Bitches didn't even notice I was gone! I did however, have at least 35 emails from team members replying to forum posts. I have to figure out how to fix that, so I don't get every single person's response to a post, oh my!

Anyway, I am now done stressing and realize that I cannot twitter and Facebook 24/7. I have calmed down and accepted that I will post when I can (I refuse to use a twitterbot) and hope for the best. I am also—and this is advice to anyone starting in social media, keeping a notebook with websites, user names and passwords which alleviates some confusion and helps me on my way to internet organization and success. Could be a long road, but I'm giving it my best effort, even if it is accomplished through a menopause fog!

Thank you to all my followers, fans and wonderful customers—you are greatly appreciated!

Much Love—Jodi

I'm Not Crazy ... Really!

I started thinking about fears and phobias the other day and I thought well, I'm afraid of a few things, but everyone is, right? After giving it some more thought and adding up all my strange aversions, I realize perhaps I have a few more than everyone else. The first one, which a lot of people have, is the fear of snakes. I hate snakes! I really can't even look at them in photos. They're just slimy and creepy crawly and just skeeve me out. I went to the zoo one time and they had a reptile center. I knew it was a bad idea for me to go in that little building but I thought I would brave it out. I was on a date and didn't want him to know I was afraid. I walked unknowingly right into the snake room! As soon as I realized all the aquariums were filled with snakes I literally ran out of the room, shaking and screaming like I was having a seizure or something. My date and everyone else around, thought that was just hysterical. Yeah funny, ha, ha!

I also have a fear of tight spaces and heights. When hubby and I were in Vegas, we stayed at the Stratosphere—it's the tallest building in Vegas. Up at the top, they have windows that you lean over and look down at the city. I could not look out over. I was inching towards it like I was on a tightrope. Hubby kept laughing saying "you're not gonna fall out" But all I kept imagining was the glass would break as I was leaning on it and I would fall 1149ft to my death. (that's how tall the building is, I looked it up) Hey, I don't know if they have those windows secure enough to hold a big girl like me!

I went to a picnic a couple of weeks ago, and was so happy to discover that a friend of mine has a phobia just like me. We hate feet! I can deal with baby feet, but adult feet are disgusting. Hubby knows his tootsies better stay on HIS side of the bed. God forbid he should actually touch me with those things, uh, so gross! He tries to do it sometimes to tease me—first I start screaming like a little girl and then I get mad. I think I have this aversion to feet because when I was a kid my mother always wanted us to rub her feet (she was a needy woman) and the thought of it would make me sick to my stomach. I won't go into detail on the "mother" issue—that will just bring up a whole new array of neurotic behaviors. I'll save that for another post—perhaps there's a book in my future.

My last and final fear, (at least the last one I'm willing to reveal) is those damn barriers on the highway. I guess they call them cattleshoots. OMG, they scare the crap out of me! Actually they only scare me when someone else is driving. I'm fine when I'm doing the driving—I'm guessing it's a control thing. All I can think of the whole time is that we are going to hit the barrier and FLY up in the air and flip the car and end up on the other side of the highway! It's ridiculous, I know, but as soon as I see the construction signs that say narrowing lanes, I start to feel the panic rise up in my chest and I literally stop breathing and get hysterical until we get through it. If the construction goes on for miles, I will go from laughing to almost crying to any emotion in between. Hubby, of course, just laughs at me the entire time—no compassion at all.

So, when I started to write this post, I thought I would be sharing normal fears. I'm thinking maybe a trip to the doctor might be in order here. Can anyone say "Prozac"

Much Love—Jodi

It Happened in Vegas ...

The last few weeks my posts have been interesting, but in my opinion, not very entertaining. So I thought I would change it up a bit and relay a story from a few years back. Back to a time when Hubby and I were fortunate enough to be able to go on a vacation. So this is one of the stories from our Vegas vacation about six years ago. Now we are not the type of vacationers that go to the regular places everyone else does. We like to venture out on our own and find interesting and different things to see. On one of these adventurous days we traveled out to the desert and saw really cool rock formations, visited out-of-the-way casinos, and ventured up the hills to take snapshots of the sunset. Needless to say, we didn't stop to eat all day, and by the time we headed back we were starving.

Up to this point we were driving everywhere, so hubby was keeping his alcohol consumption to a minimum. On the way back he decides he is going to buy a bottle of alcohol and tonight we will be taking the bus down the strip instead of driving. He can then drink on the bus and not have to buy drinks in the casino's. So, he buys a bottle of Captain Morgan, Coke and one of those water bottles with the straw in it. (that should have been my first clue) We head back to the room to shower and get ready, catch the bus, eat and walk the strip. By the time we get to the bus stop it is now probably 10:00 pm. We still have not eaten. We get on the bus, he's gulping his Gallon 'O Captain the entire bus ride. Finally we decide to get off outside of Caesar's. Everything looks within walking distance from here, right? If you have ever been to Vegas you realize very quickly that everything looks like it is only about a block away, in actuality it's more like miles!! So we head into the first casino looking for a place to eat. I thought Vegas was open 24/7. Apparently that's just the Casino's and strip clubs because the restaurants were not! As we venture down the strip, and by the way, hubby is getting drunker by the mile—we can't find any place to eat. There's a Subway, a McDonald's, but I wanted to sit down and relax and eat something decent! So we continue to walk.

Up and down the strip there are little Mexican dudes handing out cards with photos of half naked women and 1-900 numbers to call. Hubby starts collecting them. He now has a fistful of these damn cards and proceeds to ask the unsuspecting crowd of people walking along side of us, if they would like to trade. "I'll give you a Tammy for a Jennifer, oh no, I only have one Jennifer, how about a Nikki instead, I have a couple of her". Everyone had a sense of humor about this, but I was getting irritated. If I haven't eaten for a while, I get a tremendous migraine. We FINALLY—after miles of walking and what felt like hours of time—are in front of the MGM grand which is more or less at the beginning of the strip and I am having a conniption! I now have a whopper of a headache! Hubby, of course is now plastered and no longer hungry, so he could care less about eating. I'm bitching about needing something to eat and this dumbass says, in his best slurry voice "Why are you getting so upset, I don't understand what the big deal is?" Now imagine two fat people standing in the middle of the strip (we were crossing the street when he decided to open his big mouth) and I screamed "CAUSE I'M FUCKING HUNGRY, THAT'S THE BIG FUCKING DEAL!!!!" I looked like the girl in the exorcist. If I could have spun my head or spewed green gunk at his face, I'm sure I would have! I totally expected someone riding by to holler out "Honey, I think you could miss a meal"

After his laughter and more of my ranting, we managed to find a place to eat at New York, New York. Since that trip, hubby now knows that when I say I'm hungry, I sure as hell mean it!!

Much Love to you—Jodi

A Venture Into History

For more than a month now I have wanted to take my camera to an old cemetery a couple of blocks behind my house. I finally got my lazy butt over there and here is what I discovered. The first thing you notice about this old cemetery is all the broken and dismantled gravestones. Now, I personally am not an advocate of this country's ritual of burial. I believe strongly that it is a waste of land. When I took my trip over there, that is exactly what I was confirming to myself. What a waste, here sits a plot of land that could have been a pretty park or simply a field of wildflowers. So to enter and see how it is somewhat forgotten, tore me up. I proceeded through the graveyard and took photos of interesting head stones with odd engravings. Born June 23, 1787—Died September 11, 1853, Aged 65 years, 2 mos, 4 days.

I wandered around taking several photos and getting tiny glimses of the souls buried there. I came across a headstone that simply read Mabel 1883—1884, Right beside Mabel was another—somewhat fancier headstone, that read Ivan C., Son—died 1882. Beside those were the headstones of Mother and Father.

At first I wondered—why is Ivan's headstone more
elaborate than little Mabel's? With a bit of pondering I realized that this couple lost there beloved son in 1882 at the age of three. One year later Mabel was born and passed away a year after that. It's no wonder her gravestone was so simple. I cannot imagine the loss these parents must have felt having to bury yet another child in such a short period of time. I left the cemetery feeling an overwhelming amount of sadness.

After discussion with hubby, we attempted to do some internet investigating to find out more about this old cemetery. To our disappointment we could not find any information, not even the name. I called a local funeral home to see if they knew the name of the cemetery. They offered up the name Grove—more research, still nothing. So hubby and I took another trip over to see if we could get any clues to help us with our research. I was intriqued now, I had to know more about the history here. As we walked around, we noticed a neighbor at the home that sits beside the cemetery. We called to the woman and asked if she knew anything about the cemetery. Her name was Carol, and what a treasure trove of information she was! Carol told us the name of the cemetery was Raysorville Cemetery. It was a church cemetery. The congregation had divided into two different churches that are still around today, Paxton Presbyterian Church and I believe the other is Grace UME Church in Penbrook. After time, the little cemetery church was torn down. She also told us that our community at that time, was called Raysorville Heights. The Sheesley (Sheasley) family had maintained the cemetary for years and many of the family are buried there. I came across many headstones with the family name. We also spotted two with the name Raysor—founding fathers? The cemetery is now somewhat maintained by the township. but I doubt it gets many visitors. She told us many other bits of history I was not aware of. She told us that at the corner beside our house and the neighbors was a place called Hoover's Tavern. I confirmed this with my 82 year old neighbor who recalls a ditch between the properties where the patrons of the tavern would tumble, after a night of a few to many! She also told us about the Mader's Farm that took up most of the property surrounding our home, which of course was not built yet. My neighbor said, she remembers the pasture was directly across the street and they would sit on the porch and watch the cows grazing—some of which gave birth right there in the pasture.

I entered the cemetery that day intending to write a blog post about wasted land and morbid tradition. I haven't changed my opinion on that subject. However, I now have a new appreciation for the history in my community because of an old neglected cemetery. Maybe this post will inspire you to learn a little history in your community.

Below are all the photos from that day at the cemetery:

Fire Protection 101

Today's blog should be pretty short, I just wanted to relay a funny story to you—funny, but pretty sad at the same time!

We all have been told for years that we should have a smoke detector in each room and in major hallways. Well, we used to have three of them. We have a small house, so one in the kitchen, bedroom downstairs and the stairway to the upstairs. So we remodeled the bedroom downstairs and took that one out during the remodeling stage, that of course, has never gotten reinstalled. We remodeled the living room, in the process, that one never returned. So we still had the one in the kitchen, but every time we turned on the oven the damn thing would go off like a siren. Drove me crazy. So hubby took it down. WOW, considering we are smokers, we apparently are not to bright!!

So, the other morning I'm sitting at my desk and once in a while I hear this beep, beep. I'm looking at the carbon monoxide detector (oh, yes, we have one of those!) it's not going off. I am searching all over the house for this damn beep. Finally, I just ignored it, cause I couldn't find it. So Hubby gets up and says" what is that beeping?" I don't know. He starts looking in cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, finally he finds the culprit. The kitchen smoke detector was in the drawer. It was beeping to warn us to change the battery! Well, at least if there HAD been a fire, I guess the thing would have warned us, even from the junk drawer!

I'm not sure if we have a death wish or what, between the unfire protection, the smoking, the lack of exercise and just general overall unhealthiness, we are just one ambulance ride away from saying bye-bye world. Maybe someday we will get it together, I'll let you know when that happens. Oh but I wouldn't hold my breath—well I can't do that anyway!! At least not for very long!

Much Love and Stay Safe—Jodi

Unfinished Business

Today's post is again about procrastination, however this time it's not about me! Is it just me or are there others out there among you that have a significant other who is a starter not a finisher? No, no, not in a sexual way, (I knew you were thinking that, lol) in a handyman way! I have to say, I probably have the most unfinished home around. Don't get me wrong this man is so talented, he can build anything, fix anything and does wonderful work—he just doesn't finish a damn thing! We have at this moment, at least ten unfinished projects. The excuse is usually money, it certainly can't be time, because he has been unemployed for quite a while now! The picture below will show you the outside of our house which has been HALF sided for three years now! We have the rest of the siding to do it, we have the scaffolding rented—the last time we went to the rental place was to rent a nailer to install the kitchen floor, the guy looked at us and said "you're the ones that rented the scaffolding two years ago, that's your paperwork over there hanging on the wall. Are you doing it soon? Cause we were gonna start a pool to see who picks the right date! See even strangers know my dilemma!

He starts off really well, full of enthusiasm and motivation, gets just about finished and comes to a screeching halt. For instance, we remodeled my office. Painted, made new curtains, pictures—the works. He even constructed a built-in window seat with cabinets on each side, it's beautiful! He put up all new ceiling trim around the entire room, and was one piece short. Oh, you didn't think I was actually gonna get a finished room did you? We have since purchased that missing piece of trim, painted it and it is cut to size, do you think it has gotten installed? Ha, ha! Let's see, I think my office was also started three years ago! I love this man with all my heart. I just wish I knew how to light a fire under his ass! We've talked about the possibility of him starting a handyman business. Of course, me being the smart ass that I am, responded with, "what are you gonna call it Unfinished Business"? I've tried to motivate him with the promise of sexual favors, but apparently I don't have the same amount of persuasion that I used to! So, if you have any tips on how to get things finished around here, please feel free to share!

Much Love—Jodi

Twitter Me Depressed!

Yes, you guessed it, I am still in my "funk"! Last week I couldn't seem to find my motivation. This week has just turned into a menopause driven depression. I keep trying to tweet and facebook, anything to lift my spirits but nothing is working. I haven't had a sale in my jewelry shop for over two weeks and I keep adding more stuff in the hopes something will inspire someone, anyone, to make a purchase. My efforts are for naught. In the meantime, all I see on twitter is Yay! I had three sales today! Yay! my pearl necklace was featured in twat magazine!! Not that I begrudge anyone their joy, but being the self-involved bitch that I am, I could use a bit less of everyone else's milestones and could use a few of my own for a change. So twitter avoidance is inevitable for me. The highlight of my life lately is managing to get dressed (well, mostly dressed) and creating a piece of design work that the customer doesn't hate! Bet you're glad you started reading this inspiring little story, huh?

To add insult to injury, we are bombarded every single day with collection calls from credit card companies! Hubby started a new job, but the hours are sporatic so setting a budget is next to impossible. We have decided that eating and keeping our home is way more important then paying credit cards. But good ole "Bob" from INDIA calls everyday wanting to make us aware that we are behind in our payment and "will we be making that $60.00 payment today?" He might as well be asking for a million dollars! Actually, he could be asking for a million dollars—I can't understand a word he says. I spend 20 minutes with him saying "what? I don't understand you, say that again" And what part of "I don't have any money, do YOU not understand?" Why the hell, when half of the United States is unemployed, are we using customer service from other countries! I'm just sayin! Just one more reason to delay paying these companies. Although when I think about it, even though I need a job, I really don't want to call people in this economy, and harass them about making a payment. So more power to ya there Habib, oh I mean "Bob"!

I know this hasn't been a very entertaining post this week, and I'm not quite my usual witty self. Please pardon me for a minute, I had to spew to feel better. Next week I will return all refreshed and ready to entertain, I promise.

Much Love—Jodi

Procrastination is like Masturbation . . .

I don't know what's with me lately, it seems to take every bit of motivation I can muster just to put the dishes in the dishwasher. I never used to be this lazy. I had a schedule that I was very anal about. Friday nights I cleaned or Saturday mornings at the latest. Now, I'm lucky if I change the bed sheets every couple of weeks. They say "procrastination is like masturbation—In the end you're just screwing yourself" I actually don't know who said that, but it seems fitting for this story. It occurs to me though—you do get pleasure from masturbation, right? Ah, who am I kidding, I'm to lazy to even do that!


Not sure if it is menopause, my weight or my everyday increase in pain, but somehow I have to get my ass moving! Each morning I wake up determined to get things done. I made to-do lists because I usually work well when I have a visual—something that would prove I had completed a task. This list however, gets ignored just like everything else. I use excuses like. "I'm gonna get to that as soon as I finish smoking this cigarette" or "I was gonna take care of that, but now I have this pain in my neck" That actually happened to me today! I was simply changing my shirt, pulled the shirt over my head, went to put on the new one and all of a sudden got a kink in my neck, WTF! It really is hell getting old and out of shape, the most random things happen to cause pain. It's like the other day while I was putting on my pants. I should know by now that I have to lean on something while doing this. Apparently I thought I could accomplish this simple task without mishap—fell right on my ass trying to get the second leg in the pants and let me tell you, fat does not bounce! I hit the floor like a ton of bricks!! I'm still feeling the pain.

Maybe I should enroll in one of those motivational seminars, maybe that would help. I'm gonna do that, for sure! Really I am! For some reason I don't think you believe me—Ye of no faith. I'm serious about this, I'm gonna get on the internet right now and do a search for it ... right after I get done smoking this cigarette!

Much Love to All — Jodi

10 Dimensions of Compatibility

I was watching TV tonight and one of those eharmony commercials came on. In the commercial they mentioned that their matching is based on 29 dimensions of compatibility. So, it got me thinking. I'll bet none of their questions would even come close to what, in reality, makes a couple compatible. So, you guessed it. I have comprised a listing of the 10 essentials that keep Hubby and I harmonious—in no particular order.


#1. If we have sex, talking afterwards is optional, or it consists of me telling you "Are we done? Then get the hell off me"

#2. After a meal, passing gas is acceptable. If it smells, leaving the room so the smell follows you, is also acceptable.

#3. We laugh at each others jokes because we actually think we're funny.

#4. You clean up the pee ring around the toilet base because you realize you have bad aim.

#5. You sitting around in your most comfortable holey underwear—I've learned to live with.

#6. We realize that we are both over 50 years old and we don't expect each other to look or act like we're 21.

#7. I am sitting at my computer downstairs and you are at your's upstairs and if we need something, we can IM each other.

#8. We are both fat, so it's okay if no one gets naked.

#9. You cook and enjoy it. I don't and we enjoy that equally.

And #10. You read my top 10 compatibility list and laughed with me because it's all true and it works for us.

So there ya have it. I hope you enjoyed my little list. Please feel free to comment and add your own couple compatibilities!

Much Love — Jodi

"Flow" is a beotch!

Out of curiousity I looked up the word menopause. Here is the definition—represents the end of menstruation. The word "menopause" literally means the "end of monthly cycles" I personally think the definition should be revised to something like this "A never ending interruption of a woman's life when she will experience her period whenever, where ever, it decides to show up. Could be months, could be weeks, even days, if you play your cards right". If you are not old enough to be experiencing this precious little facet of life, let me be your guide into the wonderous world of midlife! If you are right there with me, then you can appreciate my point of view.

Most doctors and experts will tell you that once you hit the onset of menopause, (and by the way, the onset takes 5 to 10 years) your periods will either become lighter and less frequent or heavier and more frequent—or somewhere in between. They also tell you that if you have not experienced a period for a year, menopause has completed it's cycle. Of course, this is not carved in stone or anything. Just a little tidbit, if you're counting the months and looking forward to that special twelfth month to celebrate the end of all of this bullshit, you will be sadly disappointed in the amount of time it takes! I have not had a period since last August. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, or so I thought. Monday morning I was awakened from a much needed sleep, with stomach cramps like I haven't experienced since I was a teenager. Yes, it was Flow! That bitch showed up right when I least expected her. Unlike the woman in the Playtex commercial, I was not prepared! No tampons, no pads! Just what I wanted to do, run to the store at eight in the morning! When I got back from the store, that little pad I made from a wad of toilet paper had slid past my vajayjay and was now half way up the front of me. It served no purpose what-so-ever. Well, here's to another pair of panties to add to the other period underwear tucked in the corner of the dresser drawer. Don't try to deny it, you know you have a stash of blood stained undies in the back of your drawer reserved just for your period. If there happens to be any men reading this post, here's an FYI. We put the crappy underwear in the back of the drawer in the event that you or some other pervert wants to go in there to sniff our panties or something. You will grab the pretty ones that were placed strategically in the front!!

I once was looking forward to this stage of my life as I thought it would be freeing! No kids, no period, sex would be great! Instead, my breasts feel like water balloons that are on the verge of bursting. I'm bloated all the time. I have swollen hands and feet and three pairs of different sized blue jeans that fit on different days. Don't even talk to me about sex, its been so long, I think I am a virgin again!

Till next time...

Much Love to all—Jodi

Proud Member of the Volupuous Club Since 2003

The more you get to know me, the more you will find I have a tendency to be somewhat politically incorrect. I poke fun at everything and everyone—including myself. Some would like to say I do this to feel better about myself, bullshit! I feel just fine about myself. I'm overweight, menopausal and old—life does this to you. I think for the most part I am fairly satisfied with my personality and my perspective on life. Good or bad, my friends know if they want the truth... I'm there for them—always. The overweight thing does bother me, and my "change of life cycle" (oh, God, I can't believe I just called it my "change of life", I sound like my mother!) has made me realize that I better start embracing my curves cause the skinny fairy ain't showing up anytime soon! It took me a while to realize how "big" I really had become. I felt skinny inside, so every time I passed a mirror or glass window and saw my reflection I was always shocked. For some reason I expected to see a 120lb woman standing there and instead I saw what I refer to, as a unrecognizable weeblewobble! There were lots of signs that I had now become a member of the more volupuous club. I think the first real indication was when an acquaintance of mine, who was, at the time, twice my size—linked me in a statement referring to us as "girls "OUR" size! I was floored, are you kidding me? Since then I have discovered many signs that confirmed my bigness. I found out my huge behind could do tricks! One night as I was getting out of the shower, apparently I had closed the shower curtain behind me and was bending over to towel myself off. As I stood up and walked toward the mirror across the room I was abruptly stopped by the shower curtain that had gotten caught in my butt crack, "hey, look Ma, no hands" I fell on the floor laughing, I could barely stop long enough to explain to hubby what happened.

Another time I realized the weight had gotten out of hand was while shopping for clothes, I could no longer choose my size right off the rack. I had to painstakingly try every single thing on, nothing fit or looked right. All I could see were all the rolls of fat indicated in every item I pulled and maneuvered onto my frame. And someone please explain to me, if horizontal stripes make you look wider, why the hell does everything in the "big girl" store have horizontal stripes!! Oh, and just a foot note, just because they make it in your size, doesn't mean you are supposed to be wearing it, leather pants are not sexy on a size 16!

Well, like I said, I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I might just remain this size for the remainder of my life—cause ya know, that ice cream surely isn't going to eat itself.

Much Love to my Big Proud Sista's—Jodi

I'm from "Pennsyltucky"

I'm not sure if it is menopause creating my inability to tolerate people or simply the lack of intelligence by the people of whom this story is written. I don't know what it's like in your "neck of the woods" but here in Pennsylvania, people have a very unique way of speaking that defies all reasoning. Now, don't get me wrong, I myself have been known to use a bit of slang and it sometimes has provided plenty of entertainment for others. This however, goes way beyond a slang. For example, we have a friend who I will call "Ned". Every single time I have any conversation with Ned, he manages to belt out the "word" supposively! Instead of supposedly. I affectionately refer to him as the "Jesse Jackson of redneckville". His use of the english language is also well appreciated in the story I am about to relay to you. A couple of years ago, I started having severe pain in my back. I was complaining to Ned one day about the pain starting from my lower back and traveling down my entire leg. Well, don't ya know, good ole Ned, didn't let me down. He proclaimed "thats your scematic nerve", when I proceeded to correct him and said, "no it's not", because I, of course, was going to correct his english. He says "oh, yeah it is, that's your scematic nerve" Okay, so I let him ramble on for a while as he repeated the word over and over to several friends, until I finally, (after laughing every time he said it) pulled him aside and told him the word is "sciatic" nerve. His response "Oh yeah, that's it. Well, you knew what I meant" The bad thing is, I did know what he meant.

What kills me with people like this is, Ned would be the first to say "this is America, learn to speak the language" Huh, yeah, right back at ya bud! Oh, and by the way, he also uses "axed" in place of "asked".

I have lived in PA most of my life and just recently have become more acute to how unintelligent pennsylvanian's, born and bred, really sound. We are famous for our many ways to say "you", or "you all". Let's see, we have you's, youin's, youse, yins and many more I'm sure I have forgotten. WTF, people!

Another thing we do that drives me absolutely crazy. When telling a story—for some reason, we feel it necessary to let you know what day this story occurred. It goes something like this, "yesterday I was walking the dog in the park—no, it couldn't have been yesterday, it had to of been Wednesday, cause Wednesday I went to the doctor in the morning, or was that Thursday" ... guess what, I don't give a shit what day it was, it has no significance to the story!!

I could go on and on ... I might have more thoughts on this subject to continue at another time, maybe I'll write again on "Sardy or Sundy"

Much love to all—Jodi

Welcome!

For months now, I've been contemplating whether to create a Facebook fan page or a blog. Well, since I like to talk a lot—according to hubby, I decided the blog would be a good fit for me.

This is my first post and I wanted to provide a bit of wit and wisdom. However, due to the fact that I have spent the last three hours trying to get this daggone thing set up, my funny eludes me at the moment. Don't worry, it'll come back to me!

I guess the first thing I should do is tell you a little about myself and what you will see on my Squawkbox. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of being bombarded with my self-promotion on twitter (design45) I have two online shops, Tubby Tabby's Jewelbox and TopCat Design, both can be found on Etsy. I don't plan on doing much shop promotion on my blog, mostly because I really want you to follow my blog, not be blasted with things I'm selling. I might, from time to time, feature someone else's shop here, but mostly this blog is about getting to know the people I talk to on my social networks. I hope to be sharing insight, funny stories, trials and tribulations of menopause and whatever else I feel I would like to share. Reader comments will always be allowed, so feel free to "meow" whenever you wish. I'm very open minded, so don't hesitate to share your opinions with me. Just keep in mind, I will always get the last word! (cause it's my blog, lol)

Well, that's all I can think of to say at the moment. I'll fill you in as interesting things happen. Because "things" always happen to me! I'll keep you posted.

Till then, much love to you — Jodi