Archive for September, 2014
Did you know there’s a new service Bridesmaid for Hire? It caters to all price ranges. For a price the bridesmaid plays the role of: personal assistant, social director, on call therapist and peace-keeper. Since this is also the role of a wedding planner, I fail to see the difference; except the wedding planner doesn’t get stuck wearing a hideous dress they’ll never wear again. The dress and financial burden is why some girls decline the prestige of being someone’s bridesmaid.
Hire a bridesmaid and you don’t need to fret when those nearest and dearest to your heart turn down the offer. Since you’re hiring a stranger you don’t need to fret about hurting her feelings the way you may a friend.
You won’t need to fret about calling her in the wee hours of the night, telling her your life’s woes because she’s paid to listen.
You won’t need to fret that she got a black eye breaking up the fight aunt Ethel and your grandmother had at your shower because she’s paid to be the peace – keeper. She’ll cover it with makeup and nobody will notice.
You won’t fret that uncle Buck got fresh with her after he drank too much because she’s paid to direct and she directed him out the door.
You won’t fret that pre wedding jitters had you go to the bathroom, your veil fell in the bowl and she walked behind you up the aisle, wringing it out. She’s paid to assist and she assisted.
She won’t fret about any wedding fiasco as she cashes your check and flies off to Vegas with her fiancée to elope. They’ll be no bridesmaid and no fretting at her wedding.
‘Salvage supermarkets’ sell foods past their expired or use by dates. The shelves are stocked with food that expired within the past few months. With all the high-fat, high-sugar, artificial ingredients, processed foods that go into our diets is there still a need for expiration dates? If a Twinkie had been buried with King Tut and eaten today, it would still ooze the same artificial, sugary, no nutritional value sweet flavor.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell when certain foods are bad. If there’s no mold on your cheese – be brave and eat it. But some foods are tricky. For instance, how do you know when cottage cheese goes bad? How do you know when yogurt goes bad? You have to take chances in life.
Some foods, like milk, need the sniff test. When I got married, I vowed to, “Love, honor and be the family sniffer.” I’ve since become a smell expert over the years, dishing out advice on everything from milk to body odors.
- “Yes, the milk’s bad.”
- “My God, whatever you’re eating stinks. It’s bad. Throw it out.” “But, I’m not eating anything.” “Oops, sorry, Honey,” I tell my husband. He can’t be a sniffer because certain smells don’t bother him.
- “Eat that this morning and you’ll wind up at the doctor this afternoon; and when you go bring a magazine.” We all know when we go to the doctor to bring our own reading material if we want something current.
I think as a society we should shift our focus from foods (that can’t expire anyway) to getting rid of outdated magazines in a doctor’s office. I’ll bet ‘cha if they keep outdated magazines around that their fridge is stocked with all kinds of expired foods. Something must be done.
An article in USA Today reported vacation rental services that allow travelers to stay in private homes rather than hotels are going after business travelers, who may want the comfort and convenience of home. People who try it are hooked. The article mentioned that having a business meeting in a home with a lake view rather than a boardroom gives a whole different atmosphere.
Since the whole idea of staying at a home is for the guest to feel at home, I have some concerns. Does this home provide housekeeping or are the guests responsible for their mess? If there’s no maid service and your guest is Felix Unger there is no problem. However, if your guest is Oscar Madison things can get messy (literally.)
If the guest throws a party and possessions are taken or broken – who’s responsible? Is it covered by insurance?
When you travel and things are as they should be, you get a comfy, at home feeling.
When my husband and I visit my mother, I feel like I’m home, but things are not as they should be. Staying in a room with twin beds I feel like a twelve year kid again. I feel like Lucy from the I Love Lucy show. Ricky could hover over Lucy’s bed, but he never got access to it. If he sat on the bed, one foot had to be firmly planted on the floor. When Little Ricky was born you stopped yourself from questioning the conception to believing in modern days miracles and believing he too should have been born in a manger.
At my mother’s, in bed, at night, talking is in hushed tones and laughter is smothered in pillows. In the morning my husband may sneak into my bed for a morning kiss, leaving one foot planted on the floor, of course.