My Second Skin Masterpiece Revealed! Fucking Awesome! My second skin has finally been revealed - on full display for all to see! I've been feeling rage for sooooo long. This tattoo embodies all that pent up emotion and gave birth to my second skin. I decided to tattoo the message for all to see. To finally let go of some of my fears and boldly flex my arm at all the bullies, misogynists, liars, haters - you know who you are! For those who have denigrated, demeaned, dismissed or abused me. F-CAW-F!!! I'm also calling this body and soul changing experience - my personal ARM-a-geddon! Allowing my spirit guide to take wing. I stand by my choice of tattoo. Time to broadcast in 3D format - my stance in this current corrupt environment (as well as any past conflicts). I've always been referred to as silly or dramatic. Well, I think I have earned that moniker with my new second skin body art. You're welcome! I've finally aged into my rebellion decade - which I hope to continue until I croak (or CAW my last breath). The decision to get this particular tattoo has many layers (and ink punctures). My personality, OCD, fear of change, internal self-sabotaging dialog - needed a massive jolt. I'll never stop being an entertaining ditz (monkey), but need to redirect the attention to my arm. Letting the raging crow tattoo speak for me is cathartic - purging my body and soul of self-pity and negativity. A renewal of my truth. So being flighty and bird-brained - it seems appropriate that I selected a CROW as my spirit guide totem. A guardian of protectioin and strength. Crows are the most intelligent birds and can hold a grudge if you fuck with them. Thank god I didn't choose a turkey or ostrich! The choices we make are often questioned or criticized by others - as if we are incapable of making good decisions. Women, in particular, are veterans in this battle. That is why trusting "it will all work out" - is a difficult task for me. We are the protectors, the what-ifers. I hope that every time I look in a mirror and see my majestic tattoo - I will claw my way into the light - and live with less regrets or fears and strive for more contentment. It's time to amp life up into a tat-nado of new possibilities! I'm so happy to be completing Tattoo Blog Part III - my second skin revealed!! I spent every break in this tattoo art infested bathroom. Super Cool! In my last Tattoo Blog - Part II - The Tattoo Artist Pageant - the winner was Lee Verzosa of Chapterhouse Tattoos. I unfortunately had no crown or bouquet of flowers to offer - but bequeathed him with a copy of my book - Menopause the Horror, Humility and Humor of It All! He was very touched and loved the personal gift of my menopausal angst. I could not have found a better artist or person to be my first - tattoo artist. Maybe I'm romanticizing Lee a bit much, but for me to engrave my body with permanent ink - I needed to create a hero for my story. Lee is confident, humble, kind and gentle - the perfect hero. He is my forever tattoo artist! Ed "chillin" in the waiting area. I wouldn't be surprised if you're expecting a big, blubbering, whiny baby blog about my excruciating first tattoo experience. Sorry to disappoint Bitches!! My first appointment was on a Friday at 3pm. Ed came with me for support. Lee was working on the design template based on my specifications. I had emailed him prior to the appointment with 3 images and notes. We also talked on the phone - because he is old-fashioned and thinks talking is more personal than texting - to walk me through the process so I'll be prepared physically and emotionally. While Ed and I hung out - I was nervous. I was thinking, "I'm not James Bond. Cool, calm and collected while surrounded by his enemies. Asking for his martini's to be shaken not stirred. If I drank, I'd be ordering mine, "I'll have a martini, euphoric with a twinge of doubt, please." That's how I felt as I sat waiting for that first ink piercing and leap of faith. Lee's stenciled on etch-a-sketch! Pre-puncture! I'm excited but with some tattoo jitters. Lee came out with the tattoo pattern. I was a little daunted by the sketch, but shoved my fears down into my garbage can of doubts. We went to a mirror and I rolled up my sleeve to see if this matched my upper arm area. It was a little big - so he scaled it down and moved on to getting the stencil completed - which would be affixed to my arm as a pattern for him to ink. It filled the area - utilizing my entire upper arm. The strategic placement of the claws fell atop my bicep perfectly. When I flexed, the claws and tail appeared to move (hardly detectible - but I'll ramp up my bicep routine - more one-arm push ups coming up). The first thing Lee said when he placed the design on my skin was, "I can see the definition in your upper arm and the tattoo conforms to your muscles (I only heard Huge Muscles or something like that)." I blurted out, "OMG! You noticed my muscles! Thank you!" (inside voice said, "I love you.") I showed Ed and he laughed, but didn't disagree. I was a bit overwhelmed by the tat real estate, but chose to fully commit to this work of rebel art and hopefully to fully shock. My intended reaction! There were a bunch of other people getting tats throughout the late afternoon/evening - all younger and adding another piece of self expressioin to their already adorned bodies. I can now see why it's addictive. One more look before total submission to the tattoo gods. A virgin sacrifice! Once Lee had prepped and sterilized his station (and me) - I sat down for the moment of tatting (truth). The first stage was the detailed outline of the crow and letters. Raging Crow Outlined! I survived and flexing my approval! Close up of the fully outlined tattoo! My arm has come to life! I sat in a chair (not lying down on a comfy tattoo bed) with my arm draped over a padded stand - while Lee sat facing my right arm. He gave me instruction on how to sit, placement of arm and head, remaining still, letting him know if I was in need of a stretch or water or food or sneeze, etc. I quickly realized that the hardest part of this process was going to be - NOT moving unless told to move. He fully informed me of the process and gently warmed me up prior to the first needle imprint. It stung a little - like a flu shot - but not painful. Stubbing my baby toe is painful! This was almost too easy. The noise of the "needle tool/gun" was more unpleasant than the puncturing. My hearing/tinnitus hates ambient droning noise (because I already have irritating droning noise in my left ear). As he continued, I quickly realized that I was holding my breath. I slowly released while he worked. That unspoken fear ebbed and I started to relax. Unfortunately, with relaxing, came words. I started vomiting drivel from my mouth. I soon realized that I apparently talk with my hands while yammering and sharing too much information. I couldn't move my right arm - but my left hand kept flying up to emphasize my topic. It had a mind of its own. It ' s almost impossible for me to NOT vibrate and gesticulate while I'm awake. I offered to be clamped into a straight jacket, if that would help. Lee was very kind and patient and softly asked me to lower my left arm. I kept apologizing - becausse I did it more than once. He calmed me by saying that he had fantastic reflexes and immediately lifts the tattoo gun when my arm twitches. So there were no irreparable errors - thanks to Lee. I didn't want a crow that looks like it was being torn asunder because of my fidgeting. I ended up solving the problem by gripping the seat of the chair between my legs. I left an imprint by the end of the first hour when we took a pee break. Can you find the peeping Ed? I'm being trolled! During our first session, I told him some of my back story and why I chose to get a tattoo at my age. My penchant for attracting narcissistic bullies and my commitment to repel them now and forever - was a major motivation. I talked a lot about my sister and the women in my life. I told him how important creativity was and is for me - acting, singing, dancing, writing, etc. I didn't feel like being silly or funny during this momentous induction into the tattoo hall of fame. It was more somber and dignified. Lee was curious about my blog. He said that he wanted to read some of my musings - however feminine leaning. He told me he was raised by women, so I knew he would understand my humor and woes - accepting me with kindness and empathy. That was the moment I decided to give him one of my books (although I was a bit nervous about my childish amateur avatar images). This is Lee's station. We are a perfect match! Each artist has their own unique style. I'm typically like a shark and have to move constantly - sitting for an hour is uncomfortable for me. We periodically took breaks for Lee to stretch his back and me my ass and also empty my teensy bladder. I kept taking pix in the mirrors of my progress. It was fascinating watching the definition appear and come to life. I couldn't change my mind, which gave me courage. I was proud of myself for following through with something I'd been squawking about for years. I have to thank my sister, Bridget, for sending me that funny embroidery of the crow/f-caw-f image. The other tattooists kept checking out Lee's work. When we completed the lettering on my upper arm - the female artists laughed and approved the message. One of the males had to ask me what it meant. Sigh...........I'll be explaining this tattoo to at least half the viewers (and my mom). My inspiration! Lee had some observations about my skin/arm. While working on the back side of my upper arm (near the old(er) lady wing flap area), Lee said that he had to "pull and spread" the skin more tautly - because of less elasticity. I couldn't disagree because it's a challenging area to recoup and retighten as you age. But it also pertains to younger folks who don't work out or care. He did, however, remark on my healthy skin. Lee said it was easy to tat because I obviously drank a lot of water and take care of my body. I fucking work my ass off to maintain any semblance of a youthful physique - not cosmetically buy physically. Thank you Pilates!! The letters on my upper arm (shoulder bone) were the most sensitive area. Stubbing my baby toe is waaaaayyyyyy worse! Meanwhile, Ed was snapping some photos while Lee worked. He was a trooper. He thought it looked fantastic and so proud of me. By the end of the outlining and double outline for depth of field - Lee asked if I wanted to continue or schedule a second session. I had mixed emotions because I was anxious to finish - but my stomach decided for me. I hadn't eaten much during the day (too nervous) and was starving!! Lee took pictures, cleaned, lubed and saran-wrapped my arm prior to leaving. Day 2 - F-CAW-F all filled in! I'm officially a REBEL! We scheduled my final session for Tuesday - 4 days later. I had no adverse reaction to the outlining and Lee felt confident I could finish mine sooner rather than waiting a week or two. Ed and I decided to go next door to get a bite to eat (actually I demanded we go next door before I murdered someone). I had a strange reaction once seated. I started shivering uncontrollably and a little light headed. I have no fear of needles or blood - so I thought this was odd - even for me. I was gulping down water and growled my order fast. As I trembled, I started shoving tatertots (not my dog) into my pie-hole! I was shaking, starving and talking with my mouth full - in equal measure. I'm always freezing, but I believe this was after-shock! My voracious appetite felt like I'd lived through a battle (PTSTD - post traumatic stress tattoo disorder). It turns out - this is a natural reaction when getting tattooed. Lee said that I'm crashing from my adrenaline high. Quite a rush! Quite an appetite! Wrapped for beddy-bye. Keeping my baby safe! I was given instructions for protecting my new-born tattoo. Purchase or have on hand - Paper towels, disposable gloves, alcohol, antibacterial soap, paper tape, saran wrap, fresh tube of Aquaphor , Curel unscented lotion - no cross contamination. Clean that area separately from the rest of my body. Sterilize hands prior to touching it. Wash the tattoo area 3 x daily. Never use our towels or washcloths on tattoo - gently dab off with paper towel. Wear freshly cleaned loose tops. Aquaphor - thin coating - after every cleaning. Cover the tattoo with saran wrap after cleaning and lubing and use paper tape to hold in place prior to bed. Try not to sleep on that side for 3 nights. (Almost impossible since I am a flip flopper) Step and repeat for each tat session. After that initial protection is complete - I swap out Aquaphor for Curel lotion. But sterilize/wash tattoo for 2 weeks until healed. NEVER LET ANYONE TOUCH THE TATTOO. I had flaking and minimal itching prior to my second round. Lee was impressed and very pleased that I listened and followed orders. OCD can be a positive ailment! Aside from the disruptive sleep - especially when I slept on my back and activated my apnea - I had a really easy recovery time - no scabbing, pain and hardly any itching. I felt so relieved and a bit smug. Unlike my first sexual experience - my virgin tattoo was satisfying, relatively painless and left me euphoric. Hmmmmm......... There have been times in my life that I have felt "Tits Out Confidence" in achieving my goals. Playing Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors, marrying Ed, writing my menopause book and now - getting my forever tattoo. Treasure those ups! Selecting Lee, a veteran tattoo artist, is another UP. He works in fine needle(point) and with fine-lined precision. An artist from birth. A skilled perfectionist. The tat healed quicker as a result of his delicate touch. He also told me, "If someone comes up to you and tries to touch it - DO NOT LET THEM!" Day 2 - Second phase - shading and feather definition. Making my tattoo take wing! My second session was even easier. Ed was working - so I was solo. But I was relaxed and excited for the filling in and shading portion of the process. I got to meet and talk with some of the other artists - who are all talented and super cool. I really liked Ashli Hill . She apparently listened to Lee's and my conversation the first session and thought I was cool and interesting. Ashli also collects kewpie dolls and has a shelf of naked parts and old dolls that are creepy and avant-garde. She repurposes vintage bags and kewpie doll heads affixed in the eclectic design. I'd buy one! Ashli's tattoo station. Loved her cute creepy kewpie dolls! Lee and I chatted a lot about his life this time. Such an interesting individual. I barely felt the stippling and shading he was doing on the feathers. Filling in the letters in full black - was the most intense tatting - but still a low pain grade. He added a sprinkling of fine dots at the bottom of the letters which gave them a whole new dimension of angst. The crow truly came alive - after his shading. It is so fucking awesome!! Ed got off a little early and popped by to see how I was doing. He was floored and a bit jealous. Mirrors literally everywhere. Every break - I snapped more images of my new arm candy! Who needs a man! Lee and I took breaks and grew closer each minute. I have never trusted a stranger as much as I have trusted Lee. The whole experience was fresh and my newfound confidence in another human made me want to cry - tears of joy. About a half hour before completion - I started getting the trembles again. So we threw my flannel shirt over me to keep me from ruining the final details. My view from Lee's tat area. Such a fun, colorful and artsy parlor! Once Lee was finished and satisfied - we admired his work. I was blown away. I was dizzy with this magnificent piece of art on my arm. My elation was obvious in my blushed cheeks, enormous smile and quivering uncontrollably. We asked a client on a short break to take a photo of us together. I took more pix and Lee took an even better one for his portfolio. Before I left we discussed the next stage. We will add some atmosphere around the crow and letters - using the negative space for gray wispy angry clouds. We also talked about coloring the crow eye red. I wanted to continue right then - but we decided that I should live with this for a while. Let it heal and book the appointment in the near future. I can't wait!!! Don't look at the wrinkly face or lack-luster hair - Look at the tattoo. Look at it! LOOK AT IT!!! I am part of a club now. A slightly insane, dangerous and addictive club. But the coolest club EVER!! I am already thinking about my next tattoo and what special meaning it will convey. Revealing more of my inner (second skin) self. More importantly, the location that will cause me little to no pain and my old(er) skin can show off without wrinkles destroying the rat-a-tat-tat design! Did my tattoo cost a lot - yes. Was it worth every penny - yes and more! Actually, Lee is an honest artist and only charges for actual tatting time - not all my pee breaks and chatting! That would have blown my budget!! I am so over-the-moon happy I did this and with the end result. I also gained a new friend. Lee and I are forever tied together and I feel honored to be called his friend. My New BFF!! My new BFF! Lee Verzosa was perfect! I am so lucky and honored to be his artistic vessel! My cheeks hurt from smiling! BTW - my sister asked if I was choking him! Ed said to me, "Now, if we are ever in a car accident - you can easliy be identified." Always the optimistic charmer! I sent my Female Rage group (my niece Dani, my sister Bridget and my friend Jamie) the image that Lee took - a close up of my arm/tattoo - and they were blown away. I also sent it to a couple of my ladies group for their reaction - which was perfect, "OMG I love it and it embodies the emotion you wanted. RAGE! But classy, sexy and powerful!" I sent it to my life-long girlfriend in Maine - and we compared tattoos with glee! I sent it to my mom and she reacted like a mom. Supportive and thought it was really well done, but not what she would have chosen. By the end of our 2 hour conversation - she said she'd get a pretty butterfly tattoo. Lee has tatted octogenerians. Maybe a X-mas gift, MOM! She also had to ask what F-CAW-F meant........ Now it's time to share with the world. Summer is coming up and I'll be wearing a lot of sleeveless tops. Or as Ed calls them - wife-beaters. I'll call them Husband-Beaters! I am officially a 67-year-old BADASS!! I may do a quick Tattoo Blog - Part IV - because I want to share reactions from total strangers. A part of me hopes I get kicked out of some store or some mom covers her innocent babies eyes from the scary subversive old lady tattoo. That would be sooooo cool! Would I get another tattoo? Abso-fucking-lutely!! Sharkbait, my BFF vacuum, insisted on getting his own tattoos. Unfortunately, he applied them himself! With no opposable thumbs, Sharkbait, applied a tattoo upside-down! If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or Tattoo Designs and experiences or aging mishaps - we could commiserate on our peculiarities , sick humor and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shaming on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My primate and doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!  Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your friends, family, superheroes, tattoo sluts and SM followers!   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

Women get this message immediately. Men need a tutorial. And the winner is............. In my last blog - Tattoo Blog. Rat-a-Tattoo-y - I mentioned that my husband, Ed, got me a gift certificate to a local tattoo parlor for Xmas. This was the impetus to encourage (force) me to finally get my old(er) body adorned with my personal anti-horcrux (to repel and destroy evil). I am very nervous but also tat-illated!! And thus began the tattoo artist pageant! In early January, we popped into the tattoo parlor (friend referral of Ed's). I briefly chatted with someone at the front desk and was handed off to a person I will name "Martha." She came over to chat about what I had in mind. My first thought was, "Huh...they allow 12 year-olds to work at tattoo parlors? Shouldn't she be in school? Where's her mommy?" I put aside my discomfort at allowing a pre-pubescent child to wield a needle on any of my body parts - and showed her my tattoo presentation. Yes, I did a lengthy document outlining my many images and details. I AM OCD! As we discussed my tattoo vision - she asked where I intended this masterpiece (not her words). I pulled off my flannel shirt and pulled up my t-shirt sleeve and told her that the only wrinkle-free zone on my body was my upper arms. I got no reaction - so, I said, "You'll understand in 50 years. I don't want the tattoo to go below this muscular bump (flexing while I showed off my chisled defined biceps). Still no reaction. So I flexed again and again saying, "See! See how muscular my arm is? Look at it! LOOK AT IT!!! She finally (sort of) laughed. A laugh that could have been taken a couple different ways - yes, I was funny OR no, you are a strange pathetic old lady. As we continued discussing my document and images of angry crows and styles - all in black - Ed piped up and said, "You need to keep in mind that my leg tattoo (celtic band in dark blue) has faded over the past 20 years." Martha quickly agreed. I said, "That's fine, because in 20 years I'll be dead. It will still look decent as I'm going in the oven." Ed laughed. Martha didn't. We selected one of my images as a template (not my fav) for her to sketch up a tattoo of what she envisioned based on this image (she needed a week) for either my approval or disapproval. As we were leaving, I didn't have a strong sense of confidence in the tween stabbing me one million times. I shook it off. In the meantime, I posted my preferred images on SM to get other people's reaction. Most approved and congratulated me on my choices. My mom immediately responded with, "If you must do it, why not choose a cute little butterfly!" I told her that I appreciated her feedback, but NO. My cousin Kelly loved my idea and even asked if the crow's eye could be red!! Now, that was solid feedback! We went back a week later to see what Martha had come up with. Her "drawing" was well sketched - but completely opposite of what I'd asked for. First off, it wasn's a crow. Secondly, it was a cartoon of a bird in flight - not remotely what I'd envisaged or asked for. It was an outlined drawing with all negative space and no black fill-in. A drawing any 12 year-old could trace. I wanted a more realistic dramatic sexy pissed off image of a crow in flight with claws out-stretched and beak cawing. Her image had eagle talons? Has she never seen a crow? I specifically told her I did not want a cartoon. I wanted mostly filled in black but with feather definition. I wanted a F*cking Crow - not an illustrated unknown bird species. I didn't ask for a Harpy or a Gryphon - I wanted a CROW! I politely responded with carefully worded discontent and asked why I couldn't have something like the images I showed her. She went on and on about negative space (which I'm not a moron and know what negative space is) and ended her poorly constructed excuse for not doing what I asked with the following statement, "Doing an all black tattoo has complications with healing time. It also will turn into a blob over time - with no definition." I sat there for a moment - trying to remain patient with the toddler. I also had a feeling that Martha had just insulted me. The comment about healing time almost felt like I couldn't handle the process because I was old. It made me uncomfortable. I silently thought, "F-CAW-F Martha" - because I no longer had any confidence in this young person and would find my own tattooist - who spoke ADULT! Another take-away from this encounter - was that she was not interested in doing my tattoo. She succeeded - but it back-fired. I rejected her. Another error was that my husband had a large dark blue celtic band around his thigh - that was heavily detailed and about 40 years old. You can still see design details - it did not bleed or turn into a blob over time. It has faded - because it's 40 f*cking years old. Just because I'm 67 and a tattoo novice - does not mean I'm f*cking stupid. We left soon after and said that I'd get her additional images for discussion - more in her level of expertise (not a compliment) and we would make a decision. I let it stew for a couple days and even started looking for less detailed, smaller and even funny crow images - already perpared to settle for less. Maybe something less invasive and elaborate would assuage the thumb-sucking tattooist. I was no longer happy about this momentous event. That pissed me off. But I eventually decided to try again and sent her another spreadsheet with some additonal images - but still kept in the image I loved. I even threw in some red herrings (not fish) to see if she would bite. I put a cartoon drawing that was a less angry, slightly comical cawing crow - with some negative space - and she loved that one. Of course she did - it was easier. So, I told Ed that I was not going back there and would check out another parlor 10 min. from our house that got great reviews and had even selected the artist I wanted to talk with (interrogate). I no longer trusted Martha and did not want her needle-gun to go anywhere near my virgin skin. I refuse to settle for something that is mediocre. No offense, but I am doing this my way or not doing it at all. This is a life-time commitment artistically and financially. Martha had put the worm into my head that maybe I was too old. That really hurt - but I have very limited knowledge of how tattoos work - even though a gazillion people have been carving art on their bodies since time began and all age groups! I am not naming this tattoo parlor because I've heard it's a reputable place. Unfortunately, I was assigned someone that didn't mesh with me or my vision. I'm sure Martha is a good tattoist and I wish Martha well. Of course, we then had a massive snow/ice storm (for Maryland) which shut everything down for a week. Chapterhouse is a tattoo parlor very close by that I have passed a million times. It has great reviews and a wide range of artists and styles. They have an extensive cool website. There was one tat specialist that made me stop and take note. Lee Verzosa looked kind and a little crazy - with a mind-blowing example of his artwork. I was enchanted and intrigued. Ed and I popped in to check out the place, as well as, in the hopes I could chat with Lee. The first thing I noticed was the following: They had about 8 tattooists, the place was packed with people being tatted, great music was playing, the vibe was f*cking amazing and there was a seating area filled with people waiting. This parlor was right out of a movie set! I was a little dizzy and overwhelmed with their vibe while waiting. I got goosebumps (and may have peed a little). The previous parlor - only had 3 artists, there were no customers both times we were there, it was super quiet, the decor was cute - but not on the level of Chapterhouse. BTW - the only other customer that came in during our visit was a couple trying to sell them a better BGE (electric company) plan. I rest my case. I noticed that one tat table was empty and I couldn't seem to find Lee amidst all this glorious chaos. A guy asked me if I needed assistance and I asked if Lee was in and available to chat about my first tattoo. The stars aligned. Lee came over and my impression of him expanded into rockstar category. He was all in black, leather jacket, tats and kind discerning eyes. He took my hand - not in the normal casual expected hand shake - but with attentive warmth. Almost like he was feeling my soul. I'm not being crazy - this guy was unique. We had a long discourse about my vision, vibe and why I selected him. He was very quiet and thoughful. I told him about (Martha) my previous experience, the pushback on my imagery and the comment about "healing issues." He frowned and said, "That's not true. I feel she insulted you and your age. That made me uncomfortable. If they didn't want to do the tattoo, they should have been honest. Of course, you can get a black crow tattoo - it's all dependent on your pain level and location." I fell a little in love with him. He even asked me about the emotion and meaning of this tattoo. I immediately said, "Rage. Women are so filled with rage, especially now. Power, anger, sexy. A political statement. Telling everyone to F-CAW-F!" He sagely nodded and seemed to relax. I think I passed a test. I did my homework and came prepared with everything Lee expected of a client. You're welcome. We eventually went back to his table area so I could show him my Power Point (I should have added punk music). He listened and gave positive feedback. He showed me many of his images that applied to what I'd already described. I even got a little flushed while chatting and he asked if I was okay and did I need water or anything. I just said I was overly stimulated. I loved his concern and a smidge embarrassed - but told him I was nervous, excited and that I would be fine. No smelling salts needed. We talked about taking care of the tattoo. He was very adamant that I follow all his directioins. I said, "I'm OCD. I love directions!" He talked about taking care of his mom, so his schedule was somewhat limited but flexible - all predicated on her care. I fell in love with him a little more. Once we were getting close to making a commitment to each other - $$ - he told me that he wished he didn't have to charge for tattoos - because it was so personal and meaningful and that he loved doing his art. I believed him. He is the most Zen person I have ever met. I fell madly in love. I had found my forever tattoo artist. It may only be a contest of 2 but I have a tattoo artist pageant winner and it is Lee. My advice - Always Listen To Your Gut! Ignore all the white noise. My first session with Lee is this Friday. He approved my upper arm location (less painful) and traced the tat area - which he believes is plenty of space. He had some really good thoughts that aligned with my vision. He will do detailed feathers and angry flight movement. He will contour my F-CAW-F on the upper shoulder. He may include clouds to further tell the story of flight. I felt so relaxed and content with my decision that I feel whatever this tattoo guru decides artistically, will be perfect. I can let go of my OCD and give him artistic license because I trust him. He told me to go to his instagram page to see more of his work. He is f*cking amazing. Oh, BTW, he cursed once and apologized - and I told him, "Please, I curse like a f*cking sailor." We also touched on politics and he told me that we'll have plently of time to expand on that conversation while he tats. Even Ed was impressed. The image that captured my attention and imagination I emailed an abbreviated version of my original power point to Lee and also asked if I could take pictures during our session for my blog. He texted me to ask if we could talk by phone - because he's old fashioned and likes to converse rather than through emotionless texts/emails. Just another reason why I feel I've made an excellent decision. I can also take photos - although he is shy - of his/my process - but be cognizant of other customers/tattooists privacy. He appreciated my asking. I appreciated his appreciation! I will continue this adventure into my next Tattoo Blog. Part III. I'm nervous but excited about festooning my old(er) body with artwork! Less images this Blog. I'm waiting to chronicle the event for Tattoo Blog Part III. If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or Tattoo Designs and experiences or aging mishaps - we could commiserate on our peculiarities , sick humor and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shaming on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 44 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!  Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your friends, family, superheroes, tattoo sluts and SM followers!   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

Subversive needlepoint is the inspiration for my first tattoo! To be stabbed or not to be stabbed - that has been an ongoing question! I've been talking about getting a tattoo for decades. What glorious artwork will garnish my virgin skin? Where will I put this beacon of self? Can I manage to be still while being perforated a million times? I've never considered myself a weenie when it comes to physical pain. I have a pretty high threshold. Emotional pain is another ball of tangled yarn and another blog. But, I've never had a large needle thrust into my skin over and over and over and over again without any drugs administered to put me in a stupor for a couple hours - or probably longer. It's not like having cataract surgery or a colonoscopy - you are fully aware of that prolonged puncturing of intense tattoo agony. There is no fight or flight instinct once you have been harpooned with ink. Also, once you've announced to your 2 followers that you are a Bad Ass and getting tatted - at 67 (almost 68) - there is no going back. Failure is not an option. I'll put on my big girl magic panties and persevere until the final impalement has ceased its torture. I'll probably cave into the puddling abyss and reveal (scream) all my deep dire secrets while under the needle. TMI should be the tattoo! This blog is a prequel to getting my first tattoo. I'll follow up with all the whiny details once I've been skewered! Actually, it's my older self telling my younger self how to disregard all the haters in eternal artistic format. Fuck Off! Silly tattoo idea for a virgin. Mighty regretful! Many years ago - my first tattoo vision was one that I'd seen on an attractive muscled male. An adorable Mighty Mouse on his ripped upper arm. It was colorful, pristine and obviously done by a veteran tattooist. I talked about it for months - but gradually realized that I was an actress and maybe a tattoo wasn't the smartest decision I could make. Adorning your body with prejudice was frowned upon in musical theatre. Those were the days of marine's inked with battles lost and won - comrades in arms - commemorating those who had fallen - Mom. Prisoners with rudimentary crude tats of crimes, kills and bad-assery. Hells Angels declaring their allegience and lifetime membership of white male thuggery. Women got silent tattoos - concealed like a dirty little covert rebellion - unless they were a hippy or a whore or in a circus. Just another myth that prevented us from expressing our identities with body art. It's like when I got my ears pierced. I felt a bit dangerous and nasty! I was in my mid 20's (late bloomer)! It hurt but I felt so grown up. At 67, I'd be giddy as a goat if someone called me a slut! Also, I have no loyalty to Mighty Mouse? The search continued. Years ago - my sister got a rose tattoo near her bikini line and then XOXO on her left side (above her waist). My aunt got a ladybug on her ankle. I knew quite a few women with small symbolic totems - personal coat of arms - embroidery of the soul. I yearned to join this club of feminine rebels - landscaping their skin with a permanent declaratioin of artistic expression - even if hidden except for a select few to witness. Being the way I am (read my other blogs ) - I dreamt of joining their ranks - but fear of change prevented me from actualizing the choice of conceptual art on skin. Newgrange neolithic art wasn't a shabby idea for the ancient neolithic art form of tattoos. Newgrange in Ireland. I bet these ancient people all had infinity tattoos! Entrance to the burial tomb also sported my tattoo idea. My second tattoo awakening was during our trip to Ireland. We went to Bru na Boinne where the prehistoric passage tombs of Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth are located. These are Stone Age Neolithic monuments of man-made ceremonial constructions. 500-700 years before the Pyramids and 1000 years before Stonehenge. Circa 3200BC. When we were approaching Newgrange I noticed huge stones at the entrance and surrounding the mound with large triple spirals and double loops etched all over these enormous elongated oval boulders. I was transfixed and this shape took on many meanings for me. Mobius continuum - tripled endless loops - circle of life - painstakingly carved - infinity stones - blew my mind. I felt an interconnectedness with these anciet peoples. I'm half Irish and felt transformed. The megalithic art also appeared in the passageway to the entrance stone and repeated throughout our tour. This cairn (tomb) was also constructed so the sun would hit the roof box at the passageway during mid-winter solstice. Magical and mystical. My inner-wiccan danced naked around the firelight with pagan delight! We observed the remnants of a magnificent homage to some kings or persons of substantial prominence . It was spiritual. I thought about this ancient design for years. Fiddlehead magnet from my Grammy McBreairty. Uncanny resemblance! I bet they ate fiddleheads!! Love you Grammy (and Grammy)! Sadly, my grandmother passed while we were in Ireland (I miss her so much) I received a kitchen magnet as one of her mementos. I was told it was a fiddlehead design (Maine-iacs love their fiddleheads) but I saw something else. Yes, it looked like a fiddlehead but it also looked like the engraved images from Newgrange. Uncanny resemblance!! Nature and art combined. I love fiddleheads and it seemed like kismet. I had my tattoo design!!! As time flew by, my fiddlehead/infinity design hit a snag! These designs appear very organic and would a tatooist be able to pull this off without me explaining it to everyone who I revealed it to? Would it just look like a sloppy loopy mistake? Tired of explaining the tat, would I have to carry cards with me to hand out defending my choice in tats and taste? Do I want a tattoo that I "infinitely" regret? I sadly laid this idea to rest in my inner tomb (brain) for now - and revisited my indelible design yet again. Chubby Colleen is marching to Newgrange with much determination! Just imagine a crow yelling this at you! They'd chuckle as you ran away! Years later.......our world is falling apart......I'm 67......I'm fed up and raging......I found my forever tat!! My sister sent me a text with an image a few weeks ago. A picture of an embroidered crow/raven with the phrase: F-CAW-F. I stared at it for a couple seconds and then burst out laughing! F-CAW-F is perfect! Fits my personality and attitude about humanity (lack of humanity) and I want to share this with anyone that feels the same way or pisses me off!! I soon realized that it would make a great tattoo and told my husband (who liked it). I also love mimicking these intelligent birds - so when I say the phrase f-caw-f - I scream it like a veteran crow!! Scare away all the riff-raff. I also do a mean impersonation of a chicken. My avian skills have paid off! Ironically, it makes getting "pecked" for a few hours all worth it!! One of my tattoo ideas - love the splatters! I protested Xmas this year (yet another blog) - but my husband and I gave each other a gift - and mine was a gift certificate to a local tattoo parlor! I was stunned at first (thank you OCD and your unrelenting power of impediment to change) but took some inner deep breaths and was glad that I have finally made (forced) the commitment to getting a tattoo. F-CAW-F OCD!! Nice tattoo and another idea but with more anger!! Location..location..location? Choosing where to emboss my leathery hide is a sticky wicket conundrum. I considered the following tender sites: a. Ear - if I could pierce my lobe, why not the grizzled part? Are you effing crazy!! My ears are no longer tiny and cute. As my head gets smaller - my ears get bigger. b. Finger - all bone - what could go wrong? c. Upper back/shoulder - can't do it now because of the raised age spots - I hate aging and lazy dermatologists! I always liked my back - but now it looks like a mine-field of barnacles. d. Inner wrist - do I really want to bleed to death? Suicide is NEVER the answer. e. Ankle - all bone again, stupid! f. Upper arm - Winner Winner Hopefully I'm Not Chicken Dinner! Levels of tattoo pain. I'm in the weenie blue quadrant! Picasso's idea of where boobs were located. He would not be my first choice in a tattoo artist! I feel that it's never too late to get a tattoo. However, as you age, you have to consider the "loose wrinkly skin" phenomenon. I would never consider my boobs, stomach, ass or thighs as a site for body art - because it would look like a Picasso or Munch painting - an ever changing animated piece of distorted reality (like our current government). I work out 5 days a week and maintain my weight - but age doesn't give a fuck! You can't reattach your skin to it's original skeleton - no matter how many reps you do on the egym machines, laps in the pool, pilates classes, etc. - you tone up but they have not invented a machine or work out that will reverse aging. Plastic surgery is not in my senior budget. I have one spot that has held up to date - my upper arm. Since I'm a right-handed person - my right arm will always be more toned. The skin is remaining true to my original form and wrinkle free. It's the last bastion of taut! I can show my tattoo off or hide it. Perfect spot (until it's not). Sorry Munch....I relate to this painting....but I'm already screaming every day and need no reminders! I have been fluctuating between a crow or raven as my spirit guide - but feel crow makes more sense for me and my tattoo. Crows fit the message - since they "Caw" when communicating. Ravens have more of a "Raspy Croak." Also, the spiritual meaning of a crow fits well with the tattoo design and message. a. Transformation and Rebirth - getting my first tattoo b. Intelligence and Wisdom - I'm not the brightest bulb, but I know that my choice in tattoo is smarter and wiser than DJT and all his evil trolls administration put together. c. Messenger and Magical - I can only hope and dream that I can spread the word and it will magically come true. d. Trickster - fits perfectly with my witty (sardonic) message to F-CAW-F (tee..hee...). e. Fate and Opportunity - I see an opportunity to use my wits to call out the ignorant haters! I believe fate will eventually catch up to them! Also, I find this tattoo hilarious and it amuses me! I've compiled images of crow cawing artwork to submit for this artist challenge. Wish me good luck and I'll post another blog after the indelible ink has dried! Another tattoo option - but with less splatter dots of pain! Love this option - splashes of blue and splashes of ink! If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or Tattoo Designs and experiences or aging mishaps - we could commiserate on our peculiarities , sick humor and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shaming on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 44 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    I forgot that I already have a sweatshirt labeling me as an old dumb slut! Thoughtful gift from my niece and nephew!! Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your friends, family, superheroes, tattoo sluts and SM followers!   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

I retrofitted my Halloween image into Doom and Gloom! In the wee hours of the morning after a mental-quivering nightmare - my alter ego emerged and introduced herself to me (yet again) - first name Doom, middle name And, last name Gloom! Due to the current reign of terror that is our daily nemesis (government) - I've unleashed my twin to fret over evil and tyranny. Having a doomster alt personality has its perks (and impending calamitous downsides). Nobody really wants to be a doom and gloomer, but I have taken on the mantle because someone has to. Doom and Gloom (D&G) appears as needed - for example - holidays! I have conflicted feelings about them. More so as I've aged. You can read my Xmas Blogs for a sneak peak inside my holiday challenges. The current anti-holiday environment in this country makes it even more doomier and gloomier. Holidays are supposed to be full of joy and cheer - but the pressure of being so is amplified to a level of paralyzing anxiety - hence why D&G's dour countenance resurfaces. We just re-watched Jim Carrey's " How The Grinch Stole Christmas " for the umpteenth time. Holiday ritual. A book/movie character I recognize as a kindred spirit! Bah Humbuggery is my credo . I understand the Grinch's pain and loathing of the Whoville residents and Xmas - but appreciate his eventual change (enlargement) of heart at the end. For a few moments - it put things in perspective. But just a few moments. You need some Doom and Gloom to recognize and treasure the good times. Keep those expectations low, my friends! Ed has never really liked or appreciated Doom and Gloom (D&G), but often has to tolerate her. She appears randomly depending on what she doomandgloom-scrolls on social media. D&G rears her despondent haggy-head periodically before I cram her back inside to catch my breath. Sleeping, driving, observing the selective silent news media, reading the chaotic posts on SM, checking our fluctuating retirement fund, listening to a white man dick-splain something I didn't ask for, etc. - makes D&G's hackles rise and my personal "Hyde" comes out moping. Ed's work husbands understood the irony of this button I bought him! My counter-partner, Ed, is often the exact opposite of me with his own irritating personality traits. Below are a couple of his annoying monikers: Lollipop Optimist Little F**king Ray of Sunshine Mr. Unicorns and Rainbows Any of his work husbands would be perplexed by this list. A man of many facets. He doesn't smile much - but he believes everything will all work out just fine. He is often right - but D&G cringes when he says it! Like Starbucks coffee brewing machines - the older I get the more bitter I become! Being Doom and Gloom is hard work. What used to be a part-time gig is now a full-time 24/7 job - similar to a fireman waiting for the next disaster to put out - without the bright red shiny truck and siren. Like Sisyphus, it's an onerous and futile endeavor. The boulder just gets bigger and the hill steeper! It ' s an exhausting and thankless job being Doom and Gloom. Every day insanity monopolizes the conversation. It's like the world is full of male-volent Pennywise Clowns. Just watch Stephen King's movie " It " and you'll be shocked and repulsed by the uncanny resemblance! Avoid stormwater drains and red balloons! Our Worst Nightmare! My Sisyphean split personality remains steadfast in its mission to ferret out evil and chaos. Am I able to see beyond all the doom and gloom and conquer it? Baby steps....baby steps. The frayed edges say it all! D&G deals with dire situatioins in a variety of uncomfortable ways. There is the daily news update of "What HELL transpired over the last 5 hours (if I'm lucky) while I slept to cause most of us fury, pain and disgust." This always spawns a dark rumbling cloud, elevated heart rate, internal brewing, spiraling into an eruption and then collapsing in despair with a spoonful of hopelessness towards humankind. You never know how you'll react. It could be a raging rant, an internal fetal despondency, fight-or-flight or just shutting down completely with the unrealistic hope it will just all magically go away! All of these fatalistic emotions result in exhaustion - body, mimd and soul. Just another Tuesday mound of random Post-it thoughts! As a person with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - endless loop of achieving orderliness/cleanliness) my D&G companion can make every day full of perpetual anxiety leading to impending destruction of our world. I can handle my OCD - I just vacuum again or move that doily 1/16th of an inch or brush the area rug fringe or make sure I have a sufficient number of post-it notes cataloging my daily tasks - in order to regulate my heart rate to a dull roar. But D&G feeds on misery - my boulder to shoulder! D&G sometimes needs a time-out in the closet of abysmal agony!! Even I occasionally need a break from her. I need a bigger notebook. Ironically, as I get old(er) - I find that my fear of change and chaos has an "anger button." An example of a natural chaotic event that caused fear is our recent trip to South Dakota. After 3 long days of traveling - while dommandgloomig about the other drivers, traffic, keeping Tatertot happy, Ed's driving, navigating our next pee stop and finding a campground to rest our weary asses - we arrived in Wall , SD. A quick pee stop and cracking of backs - we hopped back in the truck to drive 6 miles to park for 2 nights at the scenic overlook of the Badlands. We joined a caravan of campers and RVs strung out along the overlook cliff that gave us all a stunning view of these otherworldly Badboys. We were excited and quickly set up our camper (Gullibles Travels - aptly named) for the evening. We pulled our chairs over to the cliff edge to relax and enjoy the scenery. Of course, I was internally D&Ging about the cliff edge and Tatertot getting too close even though he was on a lead. As we snapped photos and texted friends and family - I noticed a massive black cloud that was hemorrhaging lightning bolts way off in the distance. I remarked, "Wow - look at that crazy storm over there! Glad it's not in this area!!!" Premature assumption! I proceeded to snap a photo of the pretty ominous electrified tidal wave. So happy to make the Badlands! Doom and Gloom arrived 5 hours later! This is just the entrance to the Badlands. I call them the Baby Badlands! As we got all snug and cozy in the camper for the night - Ed looked up the weather and said that we were going to get severe thunderstorms around 10pm. That very same storm we'd seen earlier. Starting to feel an encroaching sense of D&G - we bedded down and hoped for the best. However, as we were reading - my D&G spidey-senses started itching and slithered out of the dark tunnels of my soul to prepare me for the worst possible outcome. I remained deathly quiet and pretended to ignore her. Ed and I (and D&G) were completely naive and unprepared for a South Dakota thunderstorm. It hit like a tsunami. We have never experienced a cataclysmic event of Mother Nature's creation and raw unmitigated anger. She can be a monumental Bitch!! We were instantly engulfed in a deluge of torrential rain. We were buffeted on all sides by high winds. We were volleyed on all sides of our camper Wind's picking up. Off in the distance is the enormous gray lightening cloud formation that looked pretty from a distance. with lightning that never stopped for 45 minutes. NEVER STOPPED! We were being shaken like a puppy with its favorite Lamb Chop squeaky plush toy. Our camper was still attached to the truck and we also had our leveling feet down for stabilization - but it felt like this barrage of elements simultaneously attacking our area (and camper) was going to win the battle and topple us over while gleefully pushing us to the overlook cliff. It was shocking and terrifying. Ed went into apeman mode and started panic-yelling (because the storm was so loud) instructions. If we went over he could kick out the large window over the bed and save us. Or we could all get dressed and make a run for the truck and he could save us. He was frantically going over every worse case scenario (sort of like D&G would do) and made it his mission to - yes - save us! He decided getting dressed and leaving the camper was the safest option. D&G was dubious. Meanwhile, Tater lay by the bed, frozen silent and also questioning this logic. Ed is shouting out commands. D&G finally took control and my brain ping-ponged all the possible scenarios of disaster with deathly calm. I seethed while Ed continued his diatribe and then I got really pissed!. I angrily pulled on sweatpants and my new sketchers. Grabbed a sweatshirt, purse, phone and an afghan because my raincoat and wellies were in the f**king truck. In a frenzy Ed proceeded to the door for our mad dash to "safety." I sunk into a half foot of red mud while being The calm before the storm. slashed by rain - and, of course - lightning exploding everywhere. Fuming, I managed to suck my feet out of the clay muck while keeping my sneakers on - disgusted (and OCDing) at the mess I would have to clean up the next day if we lived through this hellscape. Meanwhile, Ed is pounding his chest while impatiently yelling orders while Tate and I ignore him. As we sit in the truck, I realized we were still attached to the battered camper and if it goes over - we might, as well - and wondered if Ed had taken this into consideration when making this escape plan? After a brief moment of silence - Ed switches personalities and starts playing with the console buttons (an irritating habit) while smugly feeling like he saved the day and told me to settle down and get some rest. Raging (like the f**king storm), I remained silent and shoved the afghan up to my head so I could close my eyes and strategize Ed's demise. My OCD was horrified at the muddy mess and uncomfortalbe sleeping arrangements - already planning how I was going to clean up the next morning while also considering my many options of where to bury the body in SD. This "End of Times Biblical Storm" lasted about another half hour before it started to calm the f**k down. Ed eventually decided we could return to the camper and attempted to sleep through a couple more rounds of less aggressive inclement weather. We were in higher elevation and literally inside this vengeful storm. I couldn't sleep. I laid there not in fear but in contemplation. D&G and I had a private conversation. We were ruminating on our cosmic bad luck sometimes - that often happened while trying to take a deep breath, relax and have some respite from the daily loony bin called life. We learned that our fears can sometimes result in wrath-choking anger that actually makes us stronger. Not great for our blood pressure - but I didn't cower from the storm. Gave me some hope that I (we) could battle anything - including our avaricious government. We did not go gently into that good night, our old age burned and raved at close of day, and raged, raged against the dying of the light! (thank you Dylan Thomas ). Come morning, we were wakened by sunlight and pleasant conditions. However, Ed had left a vent open and our entire camper inside (and outside) was covered with a fine red dust from the storm. I wanted to metaphorically kill him all over again. He told me to ignore it. Stupid silly apeman! I rampaged while cleaning up the storm's mess. When we went outside - the ground was almost dry. Clay ground will do that! I glanced at the two mud mounds that were my new sneakers and looked around to see if the other campers had made it through the night unscathed. Everyone was just standing there in after shock. We all silently looked at each other and smiled with uneasy relief. I'm sure some were amazed that our tiny camper was still standing. We were supposed to spend another night on the overlook - but quickly decided to add an additional night to our long term stay at J Bar Ranch in Hill City - because another storm was coming through that night. No thank you! Doom and Gloom has it's perks. We don't want our dire predictions to actually come true. We may cause a lot of undo anxiety, but we can also forsee catastrophic events while remaining calm, resolved and f**king angry. It was better than wringing my hands like a vapid mewling coward. Beware coming into my home with evil intent! I have a baseball bat by my front door and next to my bed and I'd really enjoy using it! Release the Epstein Files. D&G and I also came up with an inverse strategy to deal with emotionally manipulative and abusive individuals - called Gray Rocking ! My sister turned me on to this term. It seemed appropriate since I'm considered a member of the "gray establishment" and I own a "rocking chair." This is a coping mechanism to deal with toxic behavior - typically ones with narcissistic traits. Without knowing this strategy - I inadvertently practiced gray rocking about a year before terminating my job. It works like a f**king charm!! Just respond with non-aggressive minimal emotional energy and one syllable bland answers - to confound and deflate the abuser. Don't fuel their manipulative negative energy. Remember - don't conflate an abuser's actions with your self-worth! Disengage with them and be as unresponsive as a "Gray Rock!" October, my favorite month, flew by like all the leaves on our last windy day. It's my b-day month along with my sister's and my great nieces. It's the best of fall. It has my favorite holiday - Halloween! But - unlike October - we are now in the molasses months of doom and gloom - November and December. The two longest, costliest and busiest months of the year. I love molasses - but it's a slow moving bitch to clean up and caloric. Thanksgiving and Xmas can be dark and dreary and depressing holidays for many. With forced joviality, you are expected to deal with all the consumerism, shopping, crowds, spending too much, eating too much and engaging with all family members whether you like them or not - and you better f**king enjoy every second and pray you don't get snowed in. I piggy-back my alter ego, D&G, throughout the holidays. She's inevitable - so I no longer fight her. I go through the motions and we hang X-mas lights on the porch, put a wreath on the front door, play X-mas tunes, do (minimal) decorating on the main floor, put our candles in the front windows and ho...ho...ho like we're normal. We aren't. We are wierd. We are happy to be wierd. I refuse to get a Xmas tree (my cat and now new puppy would demolish it within 5 minutes). I typically make 10,000 cookies to pass out in December - but have decided to forego the ritual this year. I'm going to put the couple hundred dollars and 4 days of back-breaking baking for a more altruistic purpose. Yes, I know it's shocking for me to use the word altruistic while referring to my own intentions - so close your mouth! I have a new mission - keep my husband healthy. He eats a portion of every batch and then gets his own batch. I'd also rather give the money I spend on those cookies to someone who needs it. Thanks to our administration - there are even more people who are in need of help. Merry Effing Xmas America! Love the smell of rants in the morning! Enough ranting about my feelings and holidays. I know a great gift for you to consider - buy everyone a copy of the " The Handmaids Tale ." Literature and education are worth the cost. Margaret Atwood extensively researches while writing her books and all her nightmarish dystopian content is based on factual events and actions from history. Think long and hard on that when you read her books! Authors are the voices of what COULD happen. Or you could take the family on a road trip to DC and protest! A bonding family outing!! Rather than play games after stuffing yourself - have everyone write letters to your Congressmen/women with all your Xmas wishes for 2026! Make it a worthwhile competition. Or you could do what we do and play Crimes Against Humanity and get all your sick psycopathic tendancies out of your system while laughing with the Fam! Or, rather than terrorizing your credit card this year (which will all end up in a future yard sale or garbage can) - give to someone in need or a worthwhile charity or donate to NPR and PBS. You can still enjoy the holidays - but with a clean conscience and soul. Just remember to vote the Fascists out of office in 2026 and 2028!!! Best gift EVER!! Let's end this ranting blog with some D&G holiday platitudes and jokes: Deck the Halls, but not your family! (unless they deserve it) Fa la la la la la la la la.... Jingle Balls....Jingle Balls... When Santa Claus plans, Mrs. Claus laughs... 3 Wise Men....ha ha ha ha ha ha ha..... Santa doesn't believe in you either.... Holiday calories don't count...jut kidding! And finally - May we all live in less interesting times!! Have a tolerable holiday and may all our wishes come true in 2026! May 2026 be the year of payback! If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or DoomandGloom stories or aging mishaps - we could commiserate on our peculiarities , sick humor and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shaming on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 44 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your friends, family, superheroes, D&G's and SM followers!   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

The Power of Puppy Love!! Roma (aka Scooby-Doodle)!! I haven't posted in a couple months because mostly I've been away - South Dakota camping excursion and sisterly/great niece birthday love in Maine - but also because my little mournful handheld machine has been busy 24/7 reminding me that the world as we know it has been desecrated and plundered by the swamp. Taking doom-scrolling to a whole new level! That first paragraph of happy, sad and mad - contain 3 future blogs! This blog is about hope, rejuvenation and puppy love. Her name is Roma - aka Scooby-Doodle! The power of puppy love is incomparable! I've written a couple blogs about our pets - past and present. We have no kids and our furballs are essential to our home, harmony and sanity. They imbue our family unit with lots of love and humor and licks. In my opinion, irritating whining is no worse than dicksplaining. Something most of us have to endure daily while surreptitiously retraining them to eliminate these bad habits. FYI dogs are easier to train than men. Homeschooling is haaarrd! Ed and I have been talking about getting Tatertot a partner since Milo (it still hurts) passed, not long after we got puppy Tater. Covid was in full swing and we decided to wait until Tater was a year old and (hopefully) calmer and more mature. A debate surfaced on whether to get a puppy from a Border Collie (BC) breeder versus rescuing an orphaned puppy. I was adamant that we rescue versus paying ridiculous amounts of money for a puppy. There are thousands of dogs in need of a home. I often think that breeders are part of this horrible problem. The conversation lasted about 3.5 years as Tater got older, lonlier and in need of a mate. Tate is now almost 5 and we needed to make a decision soon. Ed was still leaning towards getting a purebred BC. I wanted us to persue a rescue dog that connects with all of us and saves a life. We compromised and reached out to the Maryland Border Collie Rescue - but quickly realized they made it difficult to adopt. I understand their reasons for in-depth consideration on who is selected as parents - but they could have been a bit nicer about it. Not the best experience. I applaud their organization - but their obvious distrust of humans made us feel like they thought we were part of a Dog-fighting-Ring Cartel! First night in her new home! They are a perfect match! The picture that inspired Scooby-Doodle! And when I fell in love! Just as we were feeling hopeless, I got a group text (my ladies group) from my neighbor-friend Laura. She texted that her friend, Gina, had to find a home for her Australian Cattle/Border Collie dog (called a Border Heeler) - named Roma! Female, 11 months-old, potty trained, sweet disposition, crate trained, cuddly, energetic, smart, leash trained, etc. As I stared at the text and Roma's sweet funny face - with my heart thumping with potential joy - I debated telling Ed. I didn't want to be shot down. But I wanted to be Roma's new mommy! What are the odds that I would get this text and with built-in references from a woman I trust. It felt like kismet! We were watching TV and I waited for a break and casually mentioned Laura's text. As I held my breath - Ed read it and said, "Tell Laura to give us her info and we'll contact Gina." I speed texted Laura before Ed changed his mind or any other neighbor-friend could react - that we were definitely interested. They all knew we were looking for a new puppy and I'm so glad we got first dibs. We immediately reached out to Gina. I was leaving for a week in Maine and let Ed take the lead on this fortuitous adventure. Things moved along quickly and while I was in Maine celebrating my sisters and great nieces birthdays - Ed set up a meet and greet with the pups. Luckily Gina only lived an hour away and they frolicked on an empty soccer field in the woods at her kids high school (the dogs did - not Gina and Ed - I think??). Tate has not been socialized with many other dogs for a variety of reasons. Covid and his over-protective nature of what he considers his territory. Actually, I'm also part of that scented territory. But he does much better when he's not on our street or in our yard (or with me). They got along pretty well. We were both hopeful. Great picture of personalities! Happy and Goofy! I needed to wash the scuba suit so I put Tater in one of my tees! He's so handsome! I was very excited and shared pix with the Fam! The night I returned we met up with Gina and Roma at the same soccer field for round 2. Tate has a hard time letting loose (OCD) and kept running, stopping to check where we were, running, running up to us to sniff, running - you catch my drift. Roma ran circles around him without a care in the world. Puppy energy is like a drug - uninhibited joy! We were even more hopeful! Roma loves sticks! The next (and last) meet & greet was at our house - to test how Tate reacted to Roma invading his territory. We all went in the backyard and watched the dogs get their zoomies on!! She's faster than Tate - which was shocking because he's incredibly fast. She even flipped him on a reverse turn - that surprised the sh*t out of him. Once he recovered, he looked at us in crushed ego shock! I said, "He actually looks embarrassed." Male dogs (and men) need a little humbling every now and then. I was impressed with Roma! Tate was fine and they continued to play until we all went inside to see how they handled the living space. Once again, all went great. Roma was curious and Tate was on her heels making sure she didn't mess anything up (he's a good OCD boy!). The only missing piece was introducing Rey, our 9-year-old cat, to Roma. Tater and Rey have reached a detente. Rey is in charge and Tate is not. They abide each other's existence - but Rey rules. End of topic! Just like the movie - "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" - it's a showdown! Rey won! (no contact - but her death-stare makes everyone blink first) The adults all agreed that this was going to work and a good fit. Gina was sad, but knew it was the best decision for her family. We set up the drop off and started prepping for a new member of our furry family and household. A puppy-lini tradition - picture of the dogs at the door! Things never go quite as planned. The day before the puppy exchange - Ed stuck his finger in a bite wound on Tate's shoulder. It was a clean wound because he couldn't reach it via his tongue (which means he couldn't infect it). Tate has thick fur, he never complained and it's not an area I normally scratch. We rushed him to the vet and left him for surgery. Ed remembered a brief fight between Roma and Tate that got a little out of hand and was broken up. They did a cursory check for wounds and never found it. Tate had no other dog contact between their visits - so Roma won that skirmish. We lost on the expense recovery. Posing to show off his new blue scuba outfit! Strategic holes to do his business! We had to put off getting Roma for a couple days for him to acclimate from the surgery. Clad in his new "bright blue scuba suit" - he bounced back quickly because he looked so dapper! Genius invention! The alternative would have been the antiquated and dangerous to furniture and shins "Cone of Shame!!!" Everyone thought it was a new fall outfit! Win..Win! Tater refused to participate. Too many distractions for a family selfie! Roma was delivered on Sunday 10/19/25. Luckily we got some of her personal effects to help her transition. Very helpful. We all visited and said our hellos and goodbyes. I felt so sad for Gina and her partner. But we all knew if felt right. Tater and Roma began their future together as siblings/friends/companions. The only noticable hesitation in Roma was her first nightly meal. She eventually ate most of her bowl - but otherwise was cooperative and affectionate. Roma's first night in her bedtime crate. She loves to cuddle her LamaLama for nighty-night! We have had her for exactly one week. Below is a quick recap of her new life and things we've learned: She prefers a big dog bowl like Taters. Standard Woof Bowl! Her puppy bowl - constructed to slow down her enthusiastic appetite (like a puzzle) was no longer needed. She put on her big-girl panties and graduated to a wide mouthed bowl. It only took 2 days for both Tater and Roma to understand who eats in what room. For obvious reasons - we separate our dogs during meals. We have a dutch door - so they can hear but not see each other. But they switch places and lick each other's bowl afterward at the same time - like they've been together forever. The ritual is firmly set. Day 1 walking two dogs together - was initially chaotic - but has since balanced out to the occassional tangling of leashes. Both pairs - dogs and parental units - have learned the dance of the dog walk tango! We still need to work on throwing a ball, handing out chew toys and giving treats - in other words - work on what sharing means! Unlike Tater, she LOVES sticks and we have plenty! Training is going both good and bad. Roma is stubborn - not stupid. She sits and lays down and comes for treats - but not outside when we are walking her. Work in progress! Ed had a job on day 2 and I needed to venture out for groceries and pet food. I crated Roma with a treat and put a dog bed down for Tater next to the crate - while cordoning them off from running amok while I was gone. I was pleased to see them content and happy to see me upon returning. Day 2 was another banner day when our neighbors dog, Samson, was introduced to Roma (thru the fence). It was love at first sight! There was a visible change in his puppy face and stance. He never reacted like this for Tater. He was engaged and ran back and forth matching Roma's enthusiasm. Tater was confused and a tad insulted - but enjoyed the run! Nicky said that Samson now waits at their kitchen door to be let out when he hears Roma bark. She's shocked at his newfound energy and adoratioin! We went for a nice long hike at Gunpowder Falls and the dogs loved it! Tater was chomping at the bit to go in the water - but his stitches prevented that. He assumed since he was wearing a blue scuba suit - it was the natural intent. Apparently Roma has shown no interest (thus far) in frolicking in the water - but her inquisitive nature was game if Tate was! Next time! Nightly TV time is cute. Tate has always laid at my feet (preferably on my feet). Now Roma is vying for that coveted spot. So far - she wins! Both dogs are cuddly - but we set a rule with Tater - no dogs on the couch. Primarily because Rey gets parental time in the evening. She loves laying on me or between Ed and I. Roma was allowed to couch hop in Gina's home - so that's been confusing for her. But she does the half body in my lap as a concession. Once she's done with cuddly time - Tater gets a turn. Tater is a tad jealous, but very patient. Both dogs lay at my feet while I write this blog. My world just got better! Roma's obsession with Rey has not dwindled. She searches for this curiosity of nature when in the house. Once she discovers which room Rey is in - it becomes a stare-down. Roma doesn't exhibit animosity or the desire to rip her apart limb-to-limb - just the opposite. I believe she considers Rey a potential stuffed animated toy for her cuddling needs. She has quickly learned to keep some distance. Rey will give her the death-Rey stare until she encroaches into her self-imposed personal space - and then the eerie cat-erwauling begins. This doesn't deter Roma from remaining firmly in place - until Rey lunges with her cobraesque teeth and tiger-claw paws extended. So far, no contact has been made. Like I said, Roma isn't stupid. She's a curious and playful puppy who just desires that chubby grumpy chewy toy! Of course, I'm back to double pooper scooping duty - but I'm not complaining! Roma (and Tater) are very forgiving of my constant baby-talk when I'm around them. Even I'm embarrassed by me! First hiking trip with the pups! Fun times! I almost took a face-plant seconds before Ed took this pix! Bright shiny objects!! Aren't we cute!!! SQUIRRLE!!!!! At 67 (Ed is 62) we also need to consider how aging ties into the conversation of welcoming new furballs into our lives. Cats tend to live to a riper old age. Our last cat, Bastet, lived to almost 22. Rey is now 9. Our last Border Collie, Milo (who is still mourned), lived to 16. So, if every furry loved one lives to a similar old age - I'll be 82 (if Roma - being the youngest - lives to 16). Eeeeeeek! That's hard pill to swallow. I'm going to update my last will and testament!! Another consideration at 67 - is being Happy-tacked by an incredibly muscular and enthusiastic puppy every time I enter a room! I don't want to break a hip (or other body parts) while entertaining or greeting our pups! Tater has already taken me down twice - face-plant - in front of neighbors! My bones and ego can't handle it!! The showdown continues at the O.K. corral homestead! The power of puppy love makes all the boogey men less scary. In these insanely horrendous times - we need the love of our furry family to remind us that there is good in this world. Their unconditional love is magical elixir to the soul. Halloween is coming up soon! Doorbell ringing and costumed little people will be a challenge. Both dogs consider the door to be the portal that prevents the "monsters" from breaking in. Adorable ghosts and princesses beware!! By the way - if her name could have been changed easily - I wanted to call her Scooby Doodle! But 11 months of Roma would be too confusing for her. I'll just have to get inventive with her name to satisfy my funny name quirk. Roma Tomato Roma-loma-ding-dong Roma-nesquey Roma-noodle Roma-ni Roma-licious etc. Or just throw in Scooby-Doodle every now and then as her moniker! Your daily dose of sweetness! If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or furball stories or aging mishaps - we could commiserate on our peculiarities , pet humor and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shaming on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 43 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your friends, family, superheroes, pet lovers and SM followers!   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

My favorite image out of many other favorite images. This joyous image speaks volumes! I want to begin this blog by thanking Dani and Christian for inviting me to witness this perfect union and sharing their wedding photos for this blog. I had so many perfect photos to select from and so little space! Thank you and love you to the moon! Happiness is holding hands with the person you love and trust forever! Also, thank you to Abby Bostian for creating such stunning photos - visually commemorating moments that tell a story of love, laughter and eternal joy. Most of us go to many weddings throughout our lives. My first one as a flower girl who didn't do her petal scattering job due to stage fright and was told that as a result I couldn't keep my flower basket. First harsh reality at 3 years old. Second reality check was that I was not married to my cousin Rodney, the ring bearer. Annulled at a very young age of 3, I became a hardened cynic on the whole nuptial thing. I've been to a lot of family weddings over the years - big and small. I sang in a couple of them. I had some destination weddings. Bermuda - my college roommate's wedding - that involved me deciding I'd do a cabaret act in the hotel piano bar. Ed's and my trip to England for a Scottish wedding was a hoot! Men do not wear anything underneath their kilts - thank you drunk Scottish men for confirming that myth (wink..wink)! Also, at that same wedding, I had the pleasure of getting stoned with the really cool/cute priest in his home - right after I had diarrhea in his bathroom. BTW - there were about 6 other female wedding guests with me, doing the same thing! Fun times!! I've been to inexpensive private weddings and shamefully expensive huge weddings. Getting gently removed by two very large stone-faced imposing men - because I was hungry, bored, abandoned and decided to wander around druing the reception and see how the rich and powerful live by checking out every room in the Russian Embassy. Yes, the Russian Embassy allows wedding receptions rentals. At a huge Gettysburg soiree - dancing to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" while hogging the photographer - without my knowledge - and upsetting the bride and groom. She (the photographer) was fascinated by this old(er) strange woman rambunctiously dancing and singing by herself. Music makes me immune to wedding etiquette. Weddings can be boring, hostile, falling off your stool drunken, overwhelming, expensive and a laugh riot! Marriages dissolve and marriages survive. The recent celebration was none of the above - except it was more than a laugh riot - it was a howling-hoot-and-a-half!! This wedding was a flawless example of when dating goes deliciously RIGHT! Pre-wedding hugs on the beach! They are beautiful people! When I was young, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (whatever the f**k that means), I was telling (yelling at) everyone that I was NEVER going to get married or have children. I was going to be foot-loose and fancy-free (another absurd idiom - we all have constraints) - independent and content with single status til I died (alone as a snack for all my cats). I'd be the eccentric and artistic (crazy) Aunt who used men for my base needs and then cast them aside when I got bored, irritated or too attached. I smugly maintained this credo until I was close to my third decade mark. Biology took over my brain and desperation became my new credo. Women's bodies talk to them, sometimes scream at them and often take control like a parasitic alien - forcing them to make decisions that are the antithesis of what their inner self wants. At 30 my bloodsucker forced me to get married, when my inner voice sobbed and railed at me, "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - DON'T DO IT YOU SAD SAD WOMAN!" I did it anyway and have learned that we sometimes make horrendous and painful choices. It took a few years of "not learning my lesson with asshole controlling men" to gain back some control of my saner instincts and held onto Ed ( my forever primate ) despite my attempts to ruin our relationship before it took hold. Ed saw through my ruse and loved me anyway. No person is perfect - but our love is unconditional even if we irritate the shit out of each other sometimes. Weddings - when everything goes deliciously right!! At 66, it's a distant memory to recall those hormonal surges of love and butterflies when you meet someone that could be "The One!" But, when you attend a younger person's wedding - you get pangs of fresh adoration and innocent hope - that is infectious in this universe of unlimited exhileration and heart-pounding love. It's intoxicating. We (women) are genetically pre-disposed to go all gooey inside at weddings! I always carry a wad of tissues. No matter how old or hardened to life - you are enchanted by this moment of uniting two beautiful souls. You ignore that first unholy matrimony and rejoice in the union with the man sitting next to you. It's life affirming. So intimate! So perfect! I feel like a peeping aunt! My niece (Dani) and I have a close relationship. We also have the same sick sense of humor. She has the ability to not only make fun of others with cutting hilarious accuracy - but the ability to make fun of herself in equal measure. She and I have no edit button. We just humiliate ourselves with unreserved self-annihilation and humor. I love this fierce woman!! My favorite ladies!! My niece (and now new nephew) got married in June. A wedding that was clearly meant to be!! Dani and Christian are two of my favorite people. I adore and admire them both. Beautiful inside and out. They are ferocious champions for each other and a perfect match. The only time I've heard dating apps actually work and go deliciously right! (Thank god Dani swiped left. Or is it right? I'm so confused! I'm so old!) "I'm never afraid with you." Winnie the Pooh Christian and Dani have qualities that make their partnership powerful - accepting and willing to embrace each other's singularities, sense of humor, joy of cooking and dining, voracious appetite for life, empathetic natures, family oriented, pug lovers, movie and music enthusiasts and most importantly - unconditional love for eachother. When I visited them a few months prior to their wedding, we had a conversation about our partnerships. Christian asked me why I married Ed, my husband. I didn't have to think long and hard about my response. I immediately replied, "Because Ed is the most honest person I've ever met and he loves me unconditionally." I was sitting in the back of their car while we were driving north on 95 and saw Christian look over at Dani. His expression was content and resolved - meaning they had already had this discussion and fully understood the meaning of unconditional love. I had answered correctly. The look Christian gave Dani made my heart sing. Being happy for this union is a drab understatement. Like many couples of this younger generation - they decided to pay for their own wedding. My unwarranted advice was to fly to Las Vegas for a long weekend, tell their friends to come if they want to witness their union officiated by Elvis, or not! That's what I did for my second wedding and we had a blast! Our weekend was a time of unfiltered joy. No pressures or drama. Dani and Christian politely spent 1 or maybe 2 seconds contemplating this sage advice - and then said, "No!" Actually, it was, "No, thank you." They are very polite and patient with me. I felt compelled to offer this economy option - as an Aunt who loves and cares for them - even though most people dream of having a traditional wedding. I applaud them on being honest with me and also not bankrupting their parents. I cringe when younger people want an enormous wedding that could feed a small country for a year. No matter what size, they are NEVER cheap. They kept the invitations to a minimum and gave themselves time to plan according to their budget. Thank god we made the cut!! "Love is taking a few steps backward maybe even more to give way to the happiness of the person you love." Winnie the Pooh The build up to this wedding was excrutiating (for me). I was so excited. I missed the girls weekend wedding dress shopping for Dani. She ultimately decided on being traditional - white dress/gown. Those of us who couldn't attend were given blow-by-blow images of her wedding dress selections. They shopped in Boston and had 3 venues to find the perfect gown. Initially, Dani was looking for a short wedding dress and put one on hold - since this was the first stop. Gobs of choices at the next wedding shop - but they all seemed to have one thing most of us disliked. The whole point of selecting a wedding gown is to look magical and beautiful in it. HOWEVER, you also need to account for weight fluctuation, being able to dance in it, is it at least 75% comfortable and ultimately be able to sit down on a chair or toilet. Most importantly, the cost can't be your entire wedding budget!! Wedding shops may have a lot of choices - but it can be overwhelming - especially if the sales clerk is a twat. "How do you spell love?" asked Piglet "You don't spell it, you feel it." Said Pooh Dani's last wedding dress destination was not a typical "Wedding Dress Establishment" but my favorite store of all time - Anthropologie!!! I can't afford to shop there whenever I want - but it is the only place I go when I need something special (or someone cleverly gives me a birthday gift certificate). A lot of people don't realize that Anthro (I'm on nickname terms with them) has a wonderful wedding category. I had suggested that store to Dani early on - because of selfish reasons. She announced Anthro as the winner-winner-wedding dress-wower!! It was stunning, simple, elegant, unique and looked perfect on her. I take all the credit for her selection! Not really. (FYI - Anthropologie used one of their wedding photos on their social media) She ended up keeping the first short white wedding dress as well - to wear at the reception. She also wore white the entire 4-day wedding get together. That's dedication! "Any day spent with you is my favorite day!" Winnie the Pooh That was a huge decision completed. The wedding ceremony venue was booked for an outdoor park in York Maine - the Hartley Mason Reserve Park. The view was stunning and the grounds were green flowered perfection. You could reserve the Mansion on site for a ridiculous amount - but they kept it simple utilizing nature as decorations and stunning views. The only concern was weather. They supplied white umbrellas as a back up plan - but it all worked out! Overcast and once we wiped off the dewy chairs - they had perfect photography cloud coverage - so no sun-teared eyes or sunglasses. Our family is already a squinty smiling crowd - no one has eyes when we are beaming with happiness - so we don't need extra help with Mr. Sunshine! The weather wasn't hot or cold - but Goldilocks temperature. "A hug is always the right size." Winnie the Pooh The reception was held at a party venue in downtown Portland - called Ballast . We got to know it well - because a bunch of us helped set it up the day before the wedding. Thank god we drove Ed's truck up - as that became the supplies carrier. It was a really cool party place with wall to ceiling windows - a live show for all the passersby!! I couldn't wait to plaster myself against the windows in my pink tutu! I did a trial run during set up! When they are together - it's like the world goes silent. This destination wedding was a multi-day event. I kept asking for details a couple months ahead (actually, 10 months). I admit that my OCD got a little too demanding. My poor sister took the brunt of my mania - but I also bugged Dani as well. She graciously sent us the itinerary. I love her tolerance and diligence in handling me and I love lists!!! Ed and I drove up on a Thursday and arrived in time to check into the Airbnb that my sister booked. GPS Siri delayed our arrival by taking us over the GW bridge in NYC. I kept telling Ed it was wrong - but he didn't believe me until we were in a wall of traffic snail-sliming our approach to the terrifying bridge (I have a fear of bridges - that's another blog). We stayed with Bridget (my sister), Michael (my brother-in-law) and Noreen (my mom). York is a small coastal town with not only full-time residents, but a LOT of rentals/Airbnb's. Too many! We almost missed our "street" entrance to the destination. It was more of a path than a road. We pulled in and were immediately barraged with these obviously hand-made signs of little wooden children - alerting us to go SLOW or children would die!!! That's what it felt like - without actually saying it. After we passed all the scary death signs, we wound our way around a maze of beach homes. We finally found our rental thanks to my sisters Anti-Trump decals on their car. We got in our hugs and kisses and unpacked the truck. My only complaint with this Airbnb was the scarcity of lamps. Our bedroom had a horrible blinding light fixture in the ceiling - so reading before sleepy-time was NOT going to happen. Also, there was no room to park my enormous suitcase without tripping over it - so we dumped our luggage in the hall and living room. Over packers say, "What?" Too many pictures to choose from and all perfection! We didn't stay long - except to drop off our bags and pee - before we got back into the car to go over to downtown York for ice cream. I didn't complain! We met up with my nephew and family (brother of Dani) - and enjoyed the view, weather, my sweet great-nieces and the fantastic ice cream. Ed and I were hungry! We'd only had rest stop food up to that point - but I needed my sugar fix! I decided to tell my cholesterol that I was on vacation and to shut up! We eventually headed over to the main drag in York - which included the beautiful beaches and Dani/Christian's Airbnb. We ran into D&C at a restaurant right near their rental and shanghaied them and their friends. Lot's of hugs, squealing and introductions and more hugs and screaming and making jokes and then more hugs. We took off for my nephew's Airbnb and left them alone. Dani and Christian were waiting for all their guests (wedding party friends) to arrive that night. An aunt with her nieces twirling and spinning in the wet sand - could life get any better than this! After we toured their rental and I played with the kids in their bedroom - trying not to break anything - we went to the beach - which was perfect to walk barefoot and f**king cold water to wade in!! But, we had fun with the kids running and screaming and chasing my sister. Lottie discovered how much fun wet sand is and how much more fun it was to fling at my sister (her Nana). I remember her running by me yelling something and then 2 seconds later my 2.5 year-old great niece flew by in pursuit - with two fist-fulls of sand mud and arms akimbo - while screaming. Toddlers defy the laws of physiscs. Somehow those two little chubby legs can pump so fast that they can catch up with a healthy adult running full tilt. Magic!! This phenomenon was repeated a few times while the rest of us leisurely strolled, watched the sunset and laughed at Lottie. My sister was wearing black and clearly covered with sand all over her back, hair, neck, legs, etc. Bridget was crying - she was laughing so hard. We finally calmed down the mini Godzilla (toddler) - only for her to resume as we were ready to leave. We never did get dinner - but exhaustion won. "The best part of any day is when you and me become We!" Winnie the Pooh Day 2 - Friday - was a day of setting up the reception at the facility in Portland. Ballast, a venue for events, was located in south Portland - not far from the seaport area. Ed met up with Christian at their new home to fill up his truck with wedding decorations. The ladies - Dani, Bridget, Jamie and I - went to Trader Joe's to get flowers and snacks prior to going to Ballast. (FYI - Forgive me if I'm forgetting the actual sequence of events and those participating in each event - I'm old and can no longer retain. Thank you!) The four of us are a sisterhood team. We've vacationed together and also have our own text group called - Female Rage. This raging text group of female angst evolved from not only our friendship but our disgust at our current administration. An outlet for funny meme's and photos and voicing our contempt and rage in a safe space. Very cathartic. A bunch of us arrived at Ballast and started putting together the venue per Dani and Christian's direction. It was fun and with all the people helping - was prepped quickly. Really cool venue. We got the grand tour - because we needed to know where everything was being staged so we could help during the reception. We had one guy, Nick (very sweet), running the whole she-bang and knew he'd need assistance. As we were winding down - Ed and I realized we hadn't eaten - again. Ed had a breakfast of sorts - but I was going on caffeine - and getting fungry!! The restaurant next to Ballast got high recommendations - but Ed insisted we go to the pub across the street. Mom came with us and we entered an empty restaurant at lunch time. I wanted to leave but Ed couldn't admit he was wrong and we sat down. Then Ed insisted I order a lobster roll. I did not want to waste my appetite or money on a sub-par lobster roll in a restaurant that clearly was a bar - not an eatery. I caved to Ed's insistance on what was best for me. It was the WORST lobster roll in the history of lobster rolls. Even their french fries sucked. When I went to the bathroom - pissed off and still hangry - mom apparently pointed out a vehicle that was being ticketed on the street but neglected to tell Ed that it was his truck. Adding insult to lobster roll injury - Ed got a ticket. Best hugger ever!! Nubble Lighthouse! These ladies were so happy together! Their love and laughter was contagious. Happy Birthday! Ed and I got a chance to walk around the area we were staying in - which was near the Nubble LIghthouse. It's a beautiful area and the views are spectacular. I even took pix of a trio of women who went scuba diving in the cove for one of them as a birthday present. They came out of the water with funny birthday party hats on top of their scuba gear (minus one because it got lost). They even posed for a picture!! I almost left with them - they were having such a good time! We all had to get back to York for the evening festivities at D&C's. We were in charge of picking up the catering - at a closed establishment outside of York. We went through a short alley behind the caterers storefront and managed to figure out our pick up order. If cops had stopped by while we were ransacking the walk-in fridge - I would have been well-dressed for my mug shot! Not a typical stuffy rehearsal dinner - but a gathering of most of the wedding guests for a pre-celebration for Saturday's wedding. Everyone but Ed, myself and a girlfriend of a groomsman were at the park venue for wedding rehearsal. Ed and I hung out with Sarah (name???) and relaxed until they all returned. It was fun dressing up a bit and feeling the excitement in the air for the upcoming nuptials. I even set up the catering food - with the help of D&C's friends who trickled in. When I tried to find utensils - I had to go through every drawer in that huge kitchen - until I finally opened the last drawer which made absolutely no sense. Every person who came in to look for a utensil did the exact same thing and we all decided we were going to rearrange the kitchen drawers. Mob OCD!!! All the young and the old(er) wedding guests hit the beach for a sunset stroll! Once Dani & Christian and the rehearsal party arrived we all started introducing ourselves and then headed for the beach, to take pictures (not of us - but of the wedding couple). The water was still chilly, but there is something about walking barefoot on a beach while wearing a nice dress. It just added more magic to the whole pre-wedding experience. I'm far left with my nephew Scott! The water was cold but what a gorgeous place! "It's not what we have, but who we have." Winnie the Pooh The guests arrived in dribbles and quickly filled up the house. It was a really nice rental with a fantastic view of the water. But, like any home, everyone migrated to the kitchen. I managed to get at least one mini sandwich in my food-hole before it became too difficult to navigate that area. Drinks were flowing and everyone was meeting each other and having a great time. My husband hates crowds, so he sat out on the porch all evening. Like a mafia don - periodically a younger male guest would venture out, sit down and chat for an hour with the old(er) slightly scary alpha male. Once they'd kissed the ring - they moved on and another younger male would take their place. Christian's brother-in-law - Lauren's husband Carl - who plays bass viola for the Boston Symphony - made his way to Ed's porch and was held captive (acutally captivated) for the rest of the evening. It turns out that he was an avid woodworker. Ed studied music for part of his college education and plays numerous instruments, in bands and a huge music buff - so I thought they'd spend the eve discussing music. I was wrong. They talked wood all night. Both equally passionate about wood, tools, sawdust (woodworking), creating wood things - with spouses just happy they found each other (so we didn't have to hear about wood all night). Carl even sat with us at the wedding ceremony - because he was Ed's newest BFF. He was an absolute doll!! It was lovely meeting all of Christian's family! It was also awesome meeting all of D&C's friends. Most I had heard stories of and finally got to meet them face to face. I felt like I already knew some of them and they felt the same way! After talking with so many people - I eventually insinuated myself in a small circle of women. Dani, Emily and Div were all chatting and I decided I wanted to be young again and wedged myself into their triad. We yakked and laughed for an hour at least. I wanted to pee my panties numerous times (I may have inadvertantly dribbled) because we had created this 4-sided-female-wall of yammering all at once and making each other laugh harder each time one of us added some absurdity to the conversation. We talked about men, weddings, menopause, acting, singing, life, etc. Dani said to me, "Aunt Colleen - you were on Broadway!! Sing!" I responded, "I've never been ON Broadway, just near by. What am I? A monkey? Sing, Monkey! Sing!!" That eventually led me to say, "We should be on Broadway and do this as a show. The four of us standing in a circle, free-thinking topics and just ad-libbing random thoughts, nonsense and laughing." Pause here "And then we just stop and walk off the stage. End of show." We all burst out laughing and then I said, "And, bow. Curtain!" We were peeing our pants (I was) and thought it was the best idea - EVER!! I'm sure women would get it and would love this unscripted show of the astonishing, hysterical observations and stories that women come up with. I felt that I'd made 2 new friends that night (in my overly enthusiastic imagination anyway). I adore Dani so much and her besties are equally adorable. I finally grabbed a cookie because I was starving, once again, only to be cholesterol-shamed by Jamie. It disappeared so fast - it didn't count. FYI - apparently, the wedding rehearsal did not go as well as planned, because the wedding event planner for the park was a Beeyatch!! Dani had every right to be a Bridezilla - but one of her besties (Emily) did it for her to save her from bursting a blood vessel (or going to jail)! Three generations of love and laughter. Besties forever! Love these ladies!! "A day without laughter is a day wasted." Winnie the Pooh We got a short respite Friday night - before we had an early rise for Day 3 - Wedding Day - so the ladies (Bridget, Mom and I) showered, grabbed all our wedding finery and dressed in pink pajama outfits - to watch/help Dani get ready for the wedding at 8am. My sister (mother of the bride) got us matching PJ's. Mine were short shorts - so I wore my pink toeless ballet tights to contain my chubby knees! Dani was dressed in a white satin teddy, robe with feathers and matching slippers. She was stunning! The women they hired for photography and videography were fantastic. Abby Bostian is a world-class wedding and elopement photographer. She had flown in from doing a wedding in France prior to Dani's. I thought she was a friend of Dani's because she was so laid back and friendly and was staying at the Airbnb as well. She had a partner with her doing the video portion while she concentrated on photography. They also fit in so well - that we treated them like family. We loved them!! The pictures were the best I've ever seen for a wedding and party. She/they were that good!!! The boudoir photos were beautiful. Dani is so photogenic and has a smile that could melt a thousand ships (better than sinking them). Every moment was filled with joy! Beauty comes from within and magnifies the moment. My ageless Mom! We are all so lucky! Meanwhile, as we all got ready, I somehow lost my husband. I told him to come over to D&C's place with Michael (my brother-in-law). Michael showed up without Ed. Michael had no clue why Ed wasn't with him. MEN!! Apparently, Ed insisted on driving his truck and ended up at the wedding park venue. He was alone and wondered where everyone was. (Sigh....) Just as I was ready to call (scream at him) - my phone rang and I held back my rage and told him come to me so I had a ride to the venue. I was a little nervous because Ed got dressed without my supervision. But, he did fine! I was able to shove part of a bagel down my gullet and consume a vat of iced coffee - but still unsatisfied. My cheeks hurt by the end of the weekend! I bought a pink tutu skirt from Anthropologie for my wedding outfit. It was chilly out, so I was also able to wear the pink cropped sweater (from Nordstroms college girl section) as well. I also purchased (half off I might add!!) a retro Victorian pair of ankle boots that went perfectly with my tutu and personality. I felt like a princess. (pretty in pink blog) I got a lot of compliments on those boots - so they would have been worth full price!! The wedding dress reveal! We all headed to Hartley Mason Park for the ceremony. Dani kept her wedding dress a secret from Christian (and her dad) until the big reveal. The view was of York Harbor and breathtaking. The chairs faced the ocean view on a slight incline - so you got a drop off effect just beyond where the nuptials were being done. Everyone looked stunning in their wedding finery and Ed and I snagged seats just behind the honored parents and wedding party. Dani was up behind flowering bushes surrounded by friends to hide her splendor from view. Elsie and Lottie (great nieces) were the flower girls and dressed in green and pink flowered gowns - like two little fairy sprites. The rain held off and it was actually perfect. Cloudy and dramatic. Once the ceremony started, we got to watch Christian and his mom enter, my sister with the grandmom, best men, best women and flower girls - all looking stunning. Christian was so handsome in his dark blue suit. His mom looking happy, proud and elegant. My sister looked gorgeous in a sparkly gold and pink mini dress, Mom looked lovely (grandmom) in a purple suit (and looks younger than me - so everyone says). The brides friends - Emily and Div - were stunning in blue. The groomsmen looked adorable! Lauren, Christian's sister, officiated. She did a phenomonal job - sweet and loving - a perfect choice. She is never NOT smiling and a breath of fresh air human being. Her husband Carl, sat next to Ed, to keep him occupied with a like-minded woodworker companion. The ceremony was heartfelt and beautiful. Dani and Christian wrote promise vows as well. We laughed and we cried. Best vows I've ever heard. Christian's love for Dani is shared in every photo! My brother-in-law Michael couldn't be happier! Vows consummate a marriage... ...but unconditional love makes a marriage. Lauren cheered and we all joined in the celebration! Great Kiss!! It was a beautiful and intimate wedding - bonding two exquisite people. A unique couple that compliment each other and so attractive that they were approached to be models (as a couple) when they lived in Memphis. So pretty it's mildly irritating - but equally awesome on the inside - so we can forgive them for their perfections. Radiant couple! Now I'm sorry I was in the first couple rows - I missed this moment!! Arrrrrrrggggghhh! After wedding bliss! Young love is sublime! Stunning couple! After the wedding, we headed to downtown Portland for the reception. D&C had a bus reserved to take a bunch of us. Mom and I went with a group, while Ed drove down (in case we (Ed) wanted to leave earlier than the young-uns). We had to kill some time before the actual party started - so our friend Jamie - bribed the bus driver to drop us off at their hotel. We hung out in the bar and had fun chatting. I didn't partake of the charcuterie plate - but figured I'd have plenty to eat at the reception. They ordered an Uber since we all had our fancy (painful) footwear on and thought the walk to Ballast would be too uncomfortable. The Uber driver was confused when we told him the destination - but once we went literally around the corner and parked - we realized that the bus driver took the LONG route to the hotel and we absolutely could have walked. That's embarrassing enough - but to make it more humiliating - we took 2 Uber's. Guest signing white board - funny keepsake! Donut climbing wall of sugar! We got there a little early before it got crowded. D&C had a white board set up as the guest registry. We had to draw a funny pix of ourselves and sign it. It was hilarious watching people draw in miniature and a great idea. I drew my menopause avatar (badly) but Dani recognized it. They had pug napkins (for Monkey and Poptart) to commenorate their adorable furballs. They had a wedding mirror for people to take selfies. They had framed notes that they'd written each other since they met that were precious and funny. There was a donut wall in the bar area. Ballast was a layered party venue - with downstairs dedicated to food prep and storage, upstairs was the entry point and room for gathering plus bar, and then up another level was where food was served and for dancing. They had one large single-use bathroom that my sister outfitted with disco lights - but we secretly knew of another small toilet down in the prep area as back-up. Unfortunately, a lot of ladies found that back-up - so all bathrooms were backed up. Women can sniff out a bathroom within a ten-mile radius! Food started arriving - pizzas, salads, etc. - and the Lucille/Ethel hi-jinks ensued. My sister recruited me to help Nick in carrying pizzas up to the banquet table. We are both wearing heels. I'm in a long tutu and she's in a sequinned mini dress. A pizza in each hand running up a steep flight of stairs and then navigating through a throng of partiers and up a shorter flight to swerve through more party-goers to the table - and repeat this for about 10 trips. Nick couldn't keep up with us and one of the pizza delivery containers had ended up on the sidewalk outside. Not the smoothest food execution - but we worked with what we had - three of us. The food disappeared quicker than we could refill. Eventually, I had to stop and eat something!! I got a few mouthfuls of salad (sweating and standing and shoveling). It was a short respite before we started all over again. I'm not complaining - but was worried I'd take a tumble in my tutu on one of those flights. They danced beautifully while in the uncomfortable spotlight! He has eyes only for her! The beautiful wedding couple did their choreographed sexy dance. Father and daughter did a dance together as well. Speeches were given and tears were shed. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. Apparently I don't smile this hard for an extended period of time! I need to practice more. Might creep the neighbors out - but worth it! Pug Crashers! Two panting, pudgy progeny! Poptart and Monkey all dressed up for wedding photos! Poppy's butt was introduced to her Aunt Colleen! Laughing together is the closest thing to a perfect marriage! I took a break to get some fresh air when I spied two pugs outside - surrounded by a gaggle of young well-dressed women. D&C's pug-sitter brought two furry wedding-crashers to visit their mommy and daddy. I spent a nice break meeting Poptart (for the first time) and watching the mayhem. There was a small park island between traffic lanes and I somehow got my 2 great-nieces across the traffic without going to the hospital. D&C were there to give cuddles and reassurances to their progeny. There were some great pix taken during this pug-break-in-the-festivities. Just love this picture! Within an hour of the reception, my husband decided he couldn't take the noise/crowd anymore and took off. We both hate crowded events - but I can handle it for loved ones and dancing. I don't think he told anyone else (Bride & Groom?) because I spent a good portion of the evening answering everyone's question "Where's Ed??" I was a little jealous that everyone missed Ed and ignored me after their inquiry. I was mildly pissed off - but reluctantly understood why he left - and then realized, "Do I have a ride home to York?" Fun times with Ed! Only showing my dance photos because I love my tutu! This picture makes me laugh! Thank you Dani! I spent the rest of the night not caring about refilling food because everyone was busy drinking and dancing had begun. My sister and I are usually dance partners at weddings and we danced for about 2 hours. It was so much fun watching the young friends dancing in a big group - doing shots - singing to every song (they all know and remember the words) - having a blast at Ballast! Two of Christian's friends (who will remain nameless) were dancing togther (I'll call it dancing for lack of a better description). One was stomping like Godzilla, including the roars/high legged lumbering clomping and the other was following behind him trying to remain upright. This bacchanal duo had a great time and impressive stamina - teetering but never falling. One of them had a hypnotic fascination with my sister. She is a fabulous dancer and very sexy - and he kept watching from across the room and drunk-swaying towards her - but never making the effort to join us. He did this a few times throughout the evening and Bridget never knew it. I was always facing her, so I was transfixed by this young mans adoration and his stagger-dance display of ritual courtship! He would slowly weave-creep forward as if pulled by an invisible rope - mesmerized by my rhythmic sister - and just as he got within grabbing distance - she would dance to a different location and he would carefully turn around and return to his starting position. After about 3 attempts, he deflated and remained fixed to his partnerless corner. He never allowed Bridget to be impressed by his elaborate movements (trying not to fall over). It was sweet and tragic - all at the same time. I told my sister after the wedding weekend - so he could hold on to his dignity. She was flattered. I love these women so much I want to scream!! The lovely photographer and videographer were busy recording the soiree for prosperity. I'm somewhat oblivious when I'm dancing and kept photo/video bombing them a large portion of the evening. I kept apologizing to them - but it didn't prevent me from doing it over and over again. Eventually, the videographer told me that she got some great footage of me. Payback is a bitch with a camera!! It didn't help that my sister and I had just done a dance routine together. Old(er) woman in a pink tutu does "Uptown Funk" by Bruno Mars - in front of 50 young people - while being videoed!! I have no shame when it comes to Bruno!!! BTW - I don't drink - so I have no excuse! Listen to that still small voice - called bliss! We had a couple party crashers - who thought this shindig was a bar. We all waved at passers-by because we were being showcased with the wall to wall windows. It was a really fun celebration. Eventually, the senior crowd needed a nappy. I hitched a ride with my sister, brother-in-law and mom. We were hungry and our feet hurt. Ed was in bed asleep and cranky when I turned on the blaring light above our bed - so I changed in the living room - in the dark. Party pooper! Somewhere over the rainbow was a toddler named Christian! Day 4 - Sunday was our check out day. We headed over to Dani and Christian's Airbnb for the final goodbyes. Cute and stylish! Those eyes melt me! More photos were taken and final barefoot walks on the beech were completed. I huddled with my theatre troupe for one last time - Dani, Emily and Div - to hear about their Uber adventure after the reception. The young wedding couple and friends went out to party after Ballast closed. They split up to get home - women in one car and men in the other. Dani's Uber driver was an uncomfortable adventure. Firstly, he took them the LONG way home. Secondly, he was an aspiring Rap artist. Thirdly, he held them captive (kidnapped) rapping his songs the entire way while driving like a lunatic. Because he was a lunatic! Not a fun wedding without a rapper kidnapping caper. Another great wedding story for the archives. It was sad and bittersweet saying goodbye to everyone. Hopefully, I'll get to see these fabulous people again. Baby shower perhaps?? I'm sure I've missed some funny moments and twisted some tales - but memory fades much quicker at my age. Lots of hugs and tears later - we headed up to Bangor to stay with my sister and brother-in-law. We were in two cars and strangely Ed and I arrived first. We parked in front of their building to unload - but we had no way in. Michael missed the 95 exit and was going the wrong way to Bangor - so he retraced his steps and started over again - delaying departure. Ed wanted to leave the truck and go wandering around to kill time - but I kept saying we can't park there - it's illegal. He scoffed at me and took off. Just as I caught up to him - my sister texted the old(er) white male driver mishap and would be about a half hour getting there and to NOT park in front of the building or we'll get a ticket. Yes, another ticket!! So we turned around and moved the car. Why he didn't believe me the first time is strange because I'm the only one whose been to their appartment and know the rules. But men tend to assume women make shit up! That's another blog to write (White Man Over-Sight)! We found a bar and sat to have a refreshment. I ordered a diet coke and went to the bathroom. When I returned, Ed was furious! His beer cost $2 (Sunday special) and my coke cost $6. A bit wierd but I was so tired and hungry and didn't care. Bridget called that they had arrived and Ed stormed out of the bar with me running in tow after my two-year-old husband. Once we were unpacked - Ed calmed down. He was as impressed as I was with this gorgeous apartment/view. After the tour - we all realized that it was getting late and that some of us hadn't eaten a real meal in 4 days. We went to a nearby restaurant called " Blaze " (most were closed because it was Sunday?). The menu was mouth-watering - I had numerous options to select from. I chose the black bean burger on a brioche bun with duck fat fries. OMG!!! It was the best bean burger I've ever had and I ate this gi-normous veggie monster in record time - groaning in gastro-heaven - while also shoving duck fat fries into my pie-hole - without breathing! We were almost in tears because we were so f**king hungry/happy. We slept like old wrinkly big fat whiny babies! We had a lovely visit in Bangor for a few days, visited the great nieces, had my lobster roll , ate my cornbread with pulled chicken and then headed back to Portland for one night. Ed and I got to stay at Dani and Christian's new home and hang out with the newlyweds and pug pups. We had a lovely dinner but exhausted. We left the next morning to head home. We were doing pretty well until we hit New Jersey. The sky got so black that our interior lights went on (and it was still daytime) and the radio informed us that we were heading into a tornado watch zone. Torrential rain and suspicious cloud formations followed us until Delaware. We made it home without incident or damage. My in-laws greeted us along with the furballs. It was nice being home! We had another lovely visit with Ed's parents and all went back to our daily grinds. However, I was sick. I had a horrible cold/flu and lost my voice - again (Maine makes me lose my voice) - then convalesced for 2 weeks. Most everyone was sick after the wedding - not necessarily the same end of the body - if you catch my drift!! Despite my previous feelings about weddings being a bad idea, financially wasteful, a planning nightmare and a rolll of the dice on the person you chose to spend the rest of your life with - I am so delighted and honored to have been invited to share in Dani and Christian's bonding. I have no doubts that their love will be an enduring passion. Waiting to find the perfect mate - a partner in like, love and life - dedicated to each other - laughing and crying together - is worth the journey. Even in silence you feel complete. So forget about all the toads you dated prior to this forever vow - it was worth all the warts for Christian to find his Princess Charming! This picture reminds me that we've been laughing hard for almost 3 decades! Love this child and like this woman! (and love this woman - not just like - but love her - don't want to piss her off - she's got a temper!!) If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or wedding stories (successful or disastrous) or aging mishaps - we could commiserate on our peculiarities and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shameing on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 43 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your friends, family, superheroes, newlyweds and SM followers!   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

Losing control over your life is one thing - but losing control over your bladder is embarrassing! This is an extension of my Doctor/Medical blog 18 - The Cataract in the Eye! Cataract Surgery - Live to "See" Another Day!! I'll be sharing my recent dental discovery - the deceitful Crown Replacement!! And my colon cleansing procedure - the Colon Invasion!! Plus any other noticable changes (insults) that have occurred of late. Aging is a pretty serious business! With the daily Psychotic Clown Administration - every day is a mental, emotional and moral challenge. My face is a permanent tattoo of anger, disgust and repulsion at the damage DJT has inflicted on (decent) Americans. The commander-in-thief is going to have a day of reckoning when Mother Earth decides to fight back. She is one vengeful BITCH!!! Let's give the Offal Office a Colonoscopy!! My year started off with my annual check-up after the f**king election and the resulting depressive holidays. I ate my shock and rage into higher cholesterol. I've never had bad cholesterol and stupidly had blood drawn after consuming 10M cookies/peppermint bark while also feasting on as many french fries I could grasp in my greasy clenched fists. From October through early January - I drowned my sorrows in sugar and saturated/trans fats. I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to share my life's blood with my NP - thinking that was an brilliant idea! After I read my results and her admonitions - I took the self-care route rather than disguise it with medication - and changed my diet to healthy grains, more vegatblaes, low cholestrol ingredients - and banished everything I desired like cheese, ice cream, cookies and my beloved french fries. I have to admit - I am very happy with my new diet and happier because my husband also has to cut back on bad food choices. I mean that in a good way. I want him to be healthier as well so he can take care of me as I age. Selfish - yes! But, I love him and his cholesterol needs lowering as well . As opposed to our government, taking control of my diet was relatively easy. But, then I had a new hurdle to throw my body over - a Cologuard Home Test. This test is a non-invasive home-based stool DNA test for colorectal cancer screening. An alternative to a colonoscopy. My kit arrived and I was feeling quite cocky because of my new fangled diet. When I felt ready to poop in the pail - I heartily prepped for this chemistry project! The instructions are very specific and there is no room for error. However, I am human and to Err is Human!! I announced to Ed, Tate and Rey that I was going to the bathroom and needed privacy (since they all like to accompany me in that particular room). I read the instructions 10 times and had everything set up to play doctor. This cologuard kit came with a large "pail" that fit in a device that spanned the toilet bowl which was held in place by the toilet seat. The instructions forewarn you to NOT overfill the large container - but enough for testing. I chuckled and said to myself, "How could I possibly fill this massive poop bucket! I laugh at your insinuation that I am full of shit!!" Now, keep in mind, I had changed my diet to mostly fiber and ruffage. I was now very regular and confidently sat down to make a contribution to my health deposit. I have NEVER had a bowel movement this colossal in my life!! It was herculean in proportion. I couldn't stop mid-way and remove the bucket without damage to my toilet or dignity - so I let this anal discharge odyssey play out to its massive swirly conclusion. I was afraid to look. But, like a train wreck, I couldn't take my eyes off my own personal Homeric colon narrative. I had purged my body of all impurites and corruptions, but realize that I am, in fact, full of shit!!! Mesmerized, I then had to dislodge my prodigious pail of poo to complete my test. I struggled with containing this gigantic sample of DNA - because the cap has to be screwed on perfectly, and tightly sealed. My small hands were struggling to do so - and eventually I presumed I was successful. So I finished filling out the forms, properly packaging it per instruction and shipped my leviathan sample off to Cologuard for cancer screening. I was in full sweat from this heroic feat and mildly embarrassed. I dropped it off at Postman Plus, entrusting UPS with its hazardous contents. All seemed fine - until I got an urgent text and phone call from Cologuard telling me that I had to redo my test. I assumed that UPS had messed it up - but was told that something had gone (horribly) wrong in shipping - because the pail of poo had not been sealed properly. It was operator error! I can't imagine what the reaction was when the poop pathologist opened my package. Who do I send flowers to as an apology?? I was traumatized that my monstrosity had exploded. I was horrified that I would now have to do it all over again. The pressure was on!! Second kit arrived and I was now prepared to lessen the load literally and metaphorically. This sample made it to Cologuard in one sealed piece (container). It probably took a crowbar to open it! I'd never had a problem with these home tests - but this one came back positive. Blood had been detected. When I looked back on the day I sampled my poo for posterity - I recalled that I'd been experiencing hemorrhoids around that time due to the upcoming second round of poo dysfunction and suspected that was the strained culprit. So, as a result of a positive stool test, I now had to schedule a colonoscopy because I was at risk. I had to search for a good gastroenterologist without extra out-of-pocket costs. I ended up going with my husband's doctor who is the head of that department and highly recommended. Plus we are very familiar with GBMC - thank you Ed and their excellent ER! I've had one colonoscopy prior to this - and forgot 99% of the process. The only thing I remember about the first one was having a fabulous talk about pilates as they were hooking me up to take a short nap. I woke up mid-sentence to find myself in the post-op area with Ed taking pictures of my sedated (unattractive) self. He thought it was funny! I was told I had a pristine colon and see you in 10 years! I neglected my 10-year appointment and did home tests instead. But, I conveniently forgot that the prep for the colonoscopy is actually worse than the procedure. It also turns out that my particular doctor is doubly careful and has a longer, more tortuous prep schedule than most gastro-docs. I quit my vitamins a week prior to the appointment. I have no medications - so that was fine. I was asked to eat "healthier" during the week leading up to my colonoscopy. Two days prior, I had to eat only soft bland foods - like yogurt, cottage cheese, mashed potatoes without butter or cream (WTF!!), etc. I managed that day okay but was seriously jonesing for nuts or a stick of butter - but the next day made me nervous. I am not a "Faster." I am a punctual, scheduled eater throughout the day. I get very "FUNGRY" if my schedule is disrupted. I am dangerous when I get hangry!!! My husband knows this and tiptoes around the house throwing breadcrumbs with butter to appease me! The day before the procedure, you were only allowed liquids until midnight. I love liquids until I'm told I can have no solids with my liquids. So, I cleaned the house the day before my colonoscopy, drinking water, vegetable broth and apple juice - mumbling (cursing) under my breath while consuming f**king broth for 12 hours before I had to start the Suprep (GAG!!) bowel prep medication at 6pm. Cranky, tired and nervous about being knocked out and probed - I mixed the disgusting viscous salty fluid for consumption - which leaves a nasty after taste that coats your mouth for hours. To add insult to injury, I'd broken out with a "cold storage" (lip cold sore) and my ass crack was sore and traumatized from stress. I literally gagged down 16 oz. of this shit drink and then had to gag down 32 oz. of water within an hour. I was distended and trying not to throw up the medication. Within a half hour, all hell broke loose in my colon!! Four hours later.........I went to bed. My sister and I do FaceTime every Thursday night. We decided to forego the noisy bathroom FT. As I sat on the toilet - here is a text chain with her: Bridget: R we on for tonight? Me: Sorry sitting on a toilet. Thar she blows! Bridget: Do u have your ladies tonight? Me: No. Colonoscopy prep. I am on toilet duty til noon tomorrow. Bridget: Well break a hemorrhoid. Me: I already have a massive rash. It's a crime scene in my ass crack!!! Bridget: (Ha ha) Let's hope u r unconscious before the screaming starts in the OR. Me: (emoji laugh faces) I suspect I'll be handcuffed when I come to. Bridget: Just a crime scene outline on the table. Me: (more emoji laugh faces) I'm using our text feed in my next blog!! Bridget: (thumbs up emoji) Next day - Colonoscopy Appointment at 12:30pm. I slept in the guest room to be closer to the bathroom and not disturb Ed all night. Rey, our cat, decided torturing me all night was a fantastic plan of additional trauma. I had to get up at 6am, read my reminder note to NOT drink coffee, gag down another 16 oz. container of Satan Fluid and another 32 oz. of water within an hour. Then I sat on the toilet for the next 3 hrs. - while wandering around the house in between purging - f**king nauseous and fungry - until we packed up and headed off to GBMC. I was called in quickly. The staff were all very nice and funny. A nurse came in after I'd changed into my hospital leisure wear - carrying a warm much appreciated blanket. She asked if I needed anything else and I replied, "Coffee?" She laughed. I had a long chat with my procedure prep nurse. I was left to doze and dwell on the upcoming anal audit. When I was wheeled in, I noted the very crowded bright procedure room. I've never seen so many machines and gadgets in ny life!! I said, "Wow! It's like a set from the movie Alien!!" That got a laugh. When I was introduced to everyone (4 people), I thanked each of them - which seemed to surprise them. I wanted to make friends with the staff - not piss them off!! I was in mid-sentence again - when I woke up back in my prep room. Below is the second text chain with my sister post procedure: Me: When asked by the nurse to confirm I was of sound mind - she asked what my name and birthdate was. I said, "I'm so effing hungry! Colleen McIntosh (birthdate here)." She laughed. Running theme throughout the procedure. They found one polyp and removed it. Everything else was clean as a whistle (whatever that expression means - does your ass whistle?). Waiting for the polyp diagnosis to come back. When asked if I needed anything - I would answer, "Coffee." When the nurse asked if I wanted a blanket - I said, "Yes. Coffee." When she asked if I wanted a WARM blanket, I said, "Yes, with Coffee." She said the warm blanket was all she had to offer me. I said, "I'll take what I can get." She and I laughed a lot!! She'd ask me questions pertaining to my health history in between us joking around. During the post questions, the post-op male nurse (I'm about 6 people in at this point and hope they were all medicare assigned!!!) - He asked me if I wanted anything to drink or eat. I said, "Coffee and Lobster." (I got goldfish and gingerale) That joke went on until I snuck out. He caught me and we waited for Ed to call when he was out front in the car. Ed never called. He forgot - so Tom (male nurse) and I walked out to find Ed playing backgammon in the car. BTW - when Dr. Jani came in prior to us leaving - I introduced him to Ed, saying, "You know my husband's colon as well!" Fun times! Now I'm worried about the prognosis. Ed is right when he expresses concerns about my "what if" attitude - always being doom and gloom. You and Ed can commiserate!! Love you!! Thanks for making me laugh so hard while expressing my anal glands last night!! (heart emoji) Bridget: (Haha emoji) Glad the procedure went ok. Now it's hurry up and wait. Me: Of course. Always left in suspense! It's taken me a few days to get back to normal eating and deficating schedules. It's fascinating how much waste product can fit inside a colon! I'm very nervous about getting surprise bills from using a hospital rather than an ambulatory facility. I do not trust Medicare or my supplementary insurance to honor their promises. I also made the GBMC Medical Secretary promise me I'd get no surprise bills - and she assured me I wouldn't. We'll see. I know people who received bills up to 2 years after their procedure. I wish we had Universal Coverage!! BTW - the doctor wants to see me in 5 years!! I just got an email that my pathology report is on my personal chart. After reading through all the medical jargon - I found 3 words that I could actually understand - Negative for Malignancy!! Of course, those three words should have been at the top of the report - not buried in the middle!!!! I feel so much better that I have a clean colon thus far!! Gagging down the Suprep and starving me for 2.5 days was worth it!! I can breath for 5 years until the next round. I will demand the more palatable prep medication (Suflave) next time and a cup of coffee after the procedure! Next day I got a more thorough report from my gastro-doc and the report took a dark turn: “Sigmoid colon (polyp), polypectomy: Tubular adenoma with foci of high-grade dysplasia involving less than 10% of the polyp. The foci of high-grade dysplasia are not present at the inked margin of the specimen. Negative for malignancy.” ⸻ Simplified Translation: A polyp  was removed from the sigmoid colon  (the lower part of your large intestine).     •    The polyp is called a tubular adenoma , which is a precancerous  type of growth.     •    A small part of it (less than 10%) had high-grade dysplasia , which means the cells looked very abnormal  and closer to becoming cancer —but still not cancer .     •    The abnormal cells were not found at the edges  of the removed tissue (the “inked margin”), meaning it looks like the entire dangerous part was successfully removed .     •    The polyp is not cancer  ( “negative for malignancy” ). ⸻ What this means for you:     •    The polyp was precancerous , with a small area that was more advanced , but still not yet cancer .     •    It was completely removed , and there’s no sign of cancer .     •    You’ll likely need more frequent colonoscopies  to monitor for future polyps, but this one was caught in time. I got very depressed and had to wrap my head around a pre-canerous polyp and a colonoscopy in one year's time. I am mad, sad and scared - but I can't let this dwell on my psyche for a whole fucking year! Life is short! During the Colon Iliad - I've also been dealing with another doctor of doom - the dentist !! I've changed dentists since I joined Medicare. I have dental insurance - but that took a year of research until finally selecting Delta Dental again. We have limited resources at this time of senior-hood, so I went back to my previous insurance. My new dentist is younger and came highly recommended from reliable sources. He's also within walking distance. I hadn't had a decent dental appointment in a very long time. My new dental practice is thorough and does a phenomonal job at the regular cleanings. The staff is so nice and excellent (and they've read my book !). However, during my first visit and X-ray - Dr. P discovered a dark spot on one of my older crowns. Like getting a hip replacement (another appointment I'll be making in the future) as you age, he wanted to replace my old crown for a bright shiny new one. Unfortunately, my dental plan was only 7 mo. into it's term - so I would have to pay out-of-pocket for the procedure. I decided to take my chances and wait until the full year was up and insurance would cover half the cost. Once the full year came round - it then became a waiting game with Delta Dental - will they cover this procedure or not!! I kept checking with the front desk people - whether they'd heard anything - but kept getting zilch response from Delta Dental. I decided to stop at my dentist one day and ask them in person - thinking that would make a difference. While talking with the woman in charge of insurance issues - the quiet young lady nearby was typing away - as I bemoaned about the delay. She plunked down a piece of paper while I was yammering (complaining) away - which was the approval document from DD. My presence was beneficial - perfect timing!! So I made my appointment - which was a couple days before my colonoscopy! Invaded from one end to the other in less than a week! I don't recommend it! I'd only seen Dr. P twice prior to this procedure. He always had a mask on or a mask with his massive headgear with lamps and gadgets - to better see inside my mouth without hurting his back. While I was being prepped and chatting with the super nice dental assistant - a 12-year-old boy dressed in doctor scrubs walked in and smiled and then walked out. I thought, "Wow. Is this bring your kid to work day??" I kept chatting - trying not to think about this potentially painful event - when the kid walked back in and started talking to me. He was adorable and very friendly. Then I realized that he was Dr. P!!!! I mentioned my confusion by saying, "Dr. P - as you get older - every medical person you see looks like a child! I've never seen you without a mask!" He said, "When I was in dental school - I got that all the time! It used to really piss me off - so I grew a beard." I wanted to say, "You are so lucky! Shut up and stop complaining about looking young - you adorable cherub!!" He began the "numbing" process - which was very thorough. I got about 50 injections until half my head was unconcious to what was about to happen. This procedure took over an hour and my partially opened jaw - for that length of time - was not yet aware of the pain to follow!! When he finished - he told me that this replacement crown and refilling of the partial tooth underneath - may result in a dead nerve and a root canal. I just sat there staring at his adorable baby face and drooling in despair. So, after all this financial strain, waiting and discomfort - I find out that this might lead to more financial strain, more waiting and a lot more discomfort!!! Mother F**ker!!! It took about 12 hours for the feeling to come back to my face. Ed was on "drool patrol" until I came out of my partial coma. I get the temporary crown replaced in a couple weeks and pray that I can prove him wrong about the root canal omen. Next up is my Dexa-Screening! Has my Osteopenia improved or worsened!! I truly understand why older adults talk incessantly about their health and medical abnormalities. It's because as you age - that yearly wellness check ends up revealing some new aberration in your body or mind. Since turning 65 - I've been slowly decomposing!! I still haven't found a GYN yet - and strongly leaning towards ignoring my vagina until I croak. It's basically a vestigial organ at this point - useless! Since joining Medicare - I have now successfully fulfilled some of my senior doctor appointments and procedures - the cataract, the crown replacement and the colonoscopy!! Upcoming potential events could be - hip replacement, hearing aids and dementia testing!! Just to name a few!! FYI - cognitive deterioratioin has already begun!! Pirate fashion is all the rage! Aaarrbedarghhh…me matey! Where’s me parrot?  My title is a little play on the novel, “ The Catcher In The Rye ” by J.D. Salinger. I know this is a massive stretch comparing myself to Holden Caulfield – BUT – as a 65-year-old postmenopausal woman - there are a few similarities. We are both bewildered and frustrated by the “phoniness” of society. We are both weary and unbalanced. Fighting the “machine.” I lost my innocence long ago – but still yearn for my irretrievable youth. We are both protagonists in our own stories/books. Life is precarious and unstable – but we just keep plodding along - making it up as we go. BTW – my book is also considered “salty” in more ways than one! I wonder if I’ve been banned?   This blog is about my Cataract Adventure. Cataract surgery - live to see another day! A tale that I hope enlightens those considering cataract surgery but are confused by the process and overwhelmed by the glut and dearth of information. Finding a good Ophthalmologist and Cataract Surgeon are key. Following their instructions, loading up on snacks, binging TV shows with multiple seasons, lots of naps/sleep and forcing someone to wait on you 24/7 are all part of making this as painless as possible.    I’ve been extremely bored the past couple weeks, so my blog is going to be a doozy!! Cataract research - thank you Post-It Notes! I’m going to cover the events in real time(ish). When I was diagnosed last fall – I decided to research this aged eye-related surgery to the nth degree prior to committing to the operation. I have just completed my Right Eye (2/8) and in the recovery phase (with one refurbished eye and one half-blind eye – attempting to work together, play nice and focus on the task at hand). So, I will start from the beginning and hope that my personal detailed account will help anyone thinking about having this surgery or anyone concerned about their genetically inclined future eye issues.    1.  Pre-Surgery Diagnosis : I’ve already blogged about my initial diagnosis – see blog excerpt below from - “You’re Getting Old!” : Ophthalmologist  – My eyes have always been sub-par – so  cataracts  were inevitable. When I was referred to an Ophthalmologist I was once again surprised to see a very cute pregnant 15-year-old doctor. Of course, she wasn’t 15 – but every doctor looks so f**king young to me. She proceeded to tell me that my eyeballs are short, small and shaped wrong. I’m sure she said that in more technical terms – but that’s what I heard. We were nose-to-nose as she stared into my eyes and held my head and said, “Your head is narrow and (long pause) “petit.” I said, “Did you just say I have a small brain?” She laughed and said, “You’re funny!” She did not clarify her original statement – but left my tiny brain to process this momentous diagnosis. My mom said my brain is small but MIGHTY!  Did my head (brain) shrink? Does that explain why my ears look bigger?  Cataracts situation – My insurance does not offer laser surgery. I have two astigmatisms which equates Toric lens implants and lasik surgery. It also means out of pocket costs for my EYESIGHT!! Twisted health insurance logic!!! Conclusion – getting cataract surgery that is best for my eyesight even though it will cost me one of my arms and half a leg. My OCD went into massive overdrive researching and worrying – thank you Cataracts!! Overthinking everything. What-ifing to death. On an OCD scale of 1 to 10 – I was riding that 10-point summit for weeks.    As a renowned Nervous Nelly – I tried to squeeze answers out of family, medical staff and doctors on every little detail about this procedure – but only got vague mumblings about how great it is. Most doctors give you medical (non-committal) information and family has erased most of the surgery details and fuzzed out any trauma. I wanted “barometers” – pre/surgery/post/recovery – but realized I had to mount and tame this bronco on my own.    After I joined Medicare and got supplemental insurance, I had to make another appointment (12/12/23) with an Ophthalmologist because my last appointment had timed-out on the requirements for scheduling cataract surgery. My new doctor is excellent and did not make fun of my petit head! Dr. Levinson of  Specialized Eye Care   ran all the tests and re-confirmed my need for cataract surgery. He has a great staff – who were very interested in my Menopause Book – which they ordered while I was being tested. I know what you’re thinking – how did menopause come up during an eye exam? I love to chat and I find most women share this passion. Many topics were discussed in the matter of minutes and menopause happened to be one of them. Anyway, Dr. Levinson decided to play a game with me - 20 Cataract Questions. He asked, “Why are you here?” I was a bit confused and a bit concerned that this was a quiz and hesitantly replied, “For cataract surgery?” He barked, “Good Answer!” Then he said, “What else!” I said, “I want you to refer me to an excellent eye surgeon since you no longer perform this surgery?” “PERFECT,” he said, “I have someone I have worked with. What else?” I replied, “I want someone close by. I don’t want to drive 2-3 hours to D.C. in nightmarish traffic.” He parried with, “How close?” I was now frantic and this game was making me panic and yelped, “Nearby in Towson!!!” Dr. L replied, “Good Answer!!!” I was exhausted at our repartee but got what I wanted – a referral that was 15 minutes from my home and which came with glowing accolades. I was a little out of breath after running this eyeball gauntlet!! The surgery was also being performed in the same area at a reputable ambulatory facility –  Dulaney Eye Institute . The cherry on top! FYI – hospital surgery is more expensive than ambulatory.   Now that this decision was solidified – I then made an appointment with the surgeon on 1/9/24 to determine which cataract surgery was best for my waning eyesight. In the meantime – I just had to get through the holidays (you can read all about that in my blog  “Sneeze the Day!” )!   To while away the time – I reached out to some family for their own cataract experiences. I’d already talked to my father-in-law who had recently undergone cataract surgery and grilled him on all the details/costs/recovery/outcome. I also asked my sister who’d had it done 3 years prior, my mom and my sister-in-law. My father-in-law had the most detail because as time went by – most people tend to have less and less memory of having their eyeball lenses stripped and replaced. If you ask anyone who has worn glasses their entire life how they feel about having their eyeballs surgically tweaked – they’ll all pale, look nauseous and may even run away with ears covered, screaming, “La la la la la….I can’t hear you….la la la la la!!!!” When you age – this is a very common and safe procedure – so buck up and start research early.   2.  Cataract Surgery Decisions : I went to my pre-surgery appointment in early January with my list of questions and concerns. I once again ran the “trial by eyeball” performed by very nice non-judgmental young women who have to deal with seniors all day long. One curious observation while there – was that none of the young staff wore glasses. That’s not to say that they weren’t wearing contacts – but I found it odd and a bit unsettling. Just prior to meeting with my surgeon, they had me watch a video on Traditional (performed manually) versus Laser-assisted Cataract Surgery. It was about 15 minutes and made my decision VERY easy. When they showed the Traditional method – they mimicked a hand-cut squiggly line cutting the cataract and then sloppily removing it. Same lack of precision for inserting the new lens. My vivid imagination made me gag a little. When they showed the laser performing the same operation – it was precision perfection and took a minute. The only downside to using laser is that you pay for this meticulous option out-of-pocket. Insurance and Medicare have not advanced with technology and will not cover the cost of laser. I could have shopped around for the cheapest surgical team – but opted for experience, safety protocol and stellar reputation – rather than saving me money. Eyeballs are delicate orbs that require pampering. I’ve already spent a lot of money on these fragile viscous balls of nerves and cones – so why stop now. If anyone is interested in how much my laser surgery cost – you can sign up on my website and email me your questions. It’s not the most expensive and not the cheapest. I’m very content with my decision. Also, my HSA paid for this procedure – which is why I opened this savings/investment/tax-free medical account many years ago and finally tapping into it.   When I met Dr. Pramanik (who wears glasses) I felt very comfortable with his calm and confident demeanor. He was less aggressive with his mental exams – but still challenged me.  Below is yet another excerpt from my blog - “Sneeze the Day”: Cataract Negotiations:  I do need reassurance (way too much) when planning or making big decisions - like cataract surgery.  My doctor listed out the post-op “Do Nots” which made my heart do a little pitter-patter of concern. I asked, “Well what about exercise? I work out five days a week.” He said, “No bending over (90° bend from waist) for at least one week or until you are healed. For both eye surgeries.” I must have looked panicked because he then patiently asked, “What kind of work out do you do?” I said, “Pilates and Yoga.” Like that must be an exception to the rule! He said, “When you do these exercises – do you bend over?” We stared at each other for a long pause and I whispered, “Yes.” He then smugly said, “Then don’t do it!” I was pretty pissed that he cleverly outwitted me and that now I couldn’t ask about cleaning!!! After my appointment I started counting how many times I bent over from the waist and stopped at 52 bends because it was only 10am (I'd been home an hour.) I’ve done a ton of research on cataract surgery options, lens, pre/post guidelines, statistics of recovery and success rates, etc. etc., ad nauseum! I will be paying out of pocket for the enhanced Toric lens surgery because they made me watch a video of the procedure – manual vs. laser. After the video I told the doctor, “I’ve made up my mind to do laser surgery and will (gladly) pay for it out of pocket – because you made me watch a horror movie about manually cutting my eyeballs!!!” He said, “Horror movie?” Sweating, I said, “Have you watched that video!!!” We also talked about anesthesia for this procedure since I’d also heard a few nightmare stories of people being totally awake during this “ A Clockwork Orange ” surgery. He told me that they use a twilight anesthetic, but I would be aware and able to see and hear while they worked. I said, “Does anyone choose to be unaware?” He responded, “Yes – we just give you a little more juice!” Bring On The Juice!!! My defected eyeballs will have surgery in a couple weeks – one week apart. I will have to get out the restraints and have Ed hide the key for about a month. He’ll have to clean up my cage and hand feed me with gloves. This will not be pretty.    When we went through my surgical options – laser was already pre-determined. Dr. Pramanik proceeded to cross out all but 2 of them. Door #1 - Traditional (they called it Standard) Lens with Laser and Door #2 - Toric Lens with Laser. The difference is that Toric repairs my 2 astigmatisms (and more expensive). I selected Toric. My 2 astigmatisms have always been those unwanted guests that never leave. (Kind of like me when I stayed at my sister’s home for a year – 11 months more than originally planned) So, the procedures that I/we eliminated were all manually performed surgeries and the one called Multifocal Lens and Laser. He said that I was not qualified for the multifocal. So, Door #2 was the winner!! My eyeballs came with a caveat. Statistically I was in a lower percentile of full recovery (20/20) success. I fell in the 85% versus the 97% percentile. We shook hands on the “cross your fingers it all works out percentile!“   I have found that the medical community can spout generalities about what the outcome should be (in a perfect world) – but always with vague and unsettling potential casualties that can occur in the 5% of patients. I DID NOT want to be one of the “unique percentiles” (victims).    With pre-op checkup complete – Dr. Pramanik offered to get me into his schedule the following week – but after I picked my stomach up off the floor and swallowed my vomit – I opted for early February. I needed a month to wrap my terrified brain around this decision. I also needed to find a new GP and get the pre-op physical done. Once again, I needed to do research.    I had to go over additional details with one of the staff prior to leaving. She was very thorough and gave me a nice packet of materials for me to read over and things I had to complete prior to my surgery. I complimented her on her organized folio. I love detailed paperwork!!! She mentioned that I would be wearing an eye shield after the surgery and would also wear it when I napped or slept. Pirate Eye Patch for kids (and crazy old women)! That perked me up. I asked her, “Do you have the eye patches in different colors or designs?” She laughed and said, “No! It’s a plastic eye shield.” I was disappointed and muttered, “I wanted a black pirate patch with skull and crossbones.” So, I bought some when I got home. If I’m going to wear an eye shield – it must be “eye-catching!” BTW – you  cannot  use the purchased designer eye patches to replace your plastic eye shield. It’s only used over the medical shield as decoration!   In the meantime, I met with my women’s group and told them about my upcoming surgery. They asked who the doctor was and I completely butchered his name. But one of the lady’s confidently said, “You mean Dr. Pramanik?” Surprised, I said yes and it turns out that her husband had an eye surgery performed by Dr. Pramanik and they loved him and his practice. He came highly recommended. That made me feel so much better!!    I couldn’t find a GP in the time allotted – so I opted for Patient First to perform my pre-surgery physical. Below is an excerpt from my blog -  “Sneeze the Day”: I’ve already blogged about my (part 2)  historically bizarre doctor appointments   and this exam proves my record remains unbroken. When the woman came in to give me an EKG I was laid out on the slab in my easy-access Johnny gown (feminine translation - Jenny gown) - wide open and waiting for the stake - imagining that this would be the death-blow heart test results – because every doctor appointment makes me feel like it might be my last. As she was placing stickers all over my chest, ribcage, legs, etc., I happened to glance over and noticed that the curtain wasn’t pulled shut. As I watched people walk by - I very politely said, “Do you mind closing the curtain? I’d hate to see myself like this on social media. Not very pretty. I wore a hat today and have “Hat-Head.” She laughed because my saggy boobs were hanging out for all to see – my right one was pointing at the open curtain - daring a passerby to take a picture. In other words, no one would have cared about my Hat-Head (only said for sarcasm). Actually, no one seemed to care about my sagging boobs either??? She closed the curtain anyway. BTW - my heart is still beating. I also seem to have issues getting my blood pressure taken properly. I’m either dying or dead. The first BP had me dying – so the doctor redid it because she didn’t believe the results. She started rambling on about BP Cuffs (the armband device that they pump up and squeeze the crap out of your upper arm and then very slowly deflate). Apparently, the initial results were askew because they used an adult cuff. So, my doctor pulled out the child cuff to perform the death knell. Another pattern that keeps emerging - I have sub-par grownup body parts – head and now arms. I also may have hyper-tension as a result of these multiple BP readings – which doesn’t surprise me one bit. With my OCD and tendency to expect the worst – I’m a Blood Pressure Monitoring Nightmare!  With my track record of Doctor’s visits and procedures – I was somewhat cautious about my cataract surgery. But my physical was approved and next came the pre-payment. What could go wrong!!! I decided to pay in person and popped in a couple weeks prior to my procedure. I met a lovely woman in the elevator (Carol) and we briefly talked about cataract surgery. She had just completed her 2nd eye and in for a post-op checkup. We parted ways and I went to the front desk to reconcile my surgical bill. As I made jokes and chatted with the nice woman helping me – I was all paid up and checked that box on my to-do list. I ran into Carol again and we had a lovely conversation about her recovery tips and she calmed me down (off my minds-eye-ledge). Once again, menopause came up in the conversation because she asked me what I did for a living. I said, “Retired, but now I’m an author.” I told her about my book which really tickled her and she mentioned that her goddaughter was in Ireland writing a book about  Menopause and Mental Health !! Ironically, a blog topic I was half-way through writing – what are the odds!!! We exchanged info and I left feeling so pleased with myself. That self-satisfaction lasted until Ed called. He was working in DC and had a fender bender on the highway which is all too common in our area (everyone was fine). He was in a horrible mood – obviously – and his mood went out the roof when he discovered that I had paid for the surgery with my debit card – not my HSA card. I felt like an idiot because I had been so busy talking and being witty with the staff - that I wasn’t “paying” attention and grabbed the wrong card. No talking Ed off his ledge – but I showed up at the doctor’s first thing next morning and explained my plight to the nice woman who’d helped me the day before. As I waited to see if accounts payable could switch payments – a couple of the younger staff were whispering and looking over at me while I sat in my “demented old lady chair” feeling that their whispers were justified. It all got resolved and for the second time left the practice embarrassed but relieved I was able to repair the damage.  I still had a week to complete my prep for the first surgery on 2/8/24. I had to get 4 different eye drops from the pharmacy. It’s never straight forward when ordering drugs of any kind. Walgreens had all but 1 of the drops required. I asked when I would be able to pick up the missing drop – only to be told they had a shortage and couldn’t get it. That was worrisome. I called  Mid-Atlantic Cornea Consultants   and they found the missing eye drop at the neighboring pharmacy CVS (literally across the street from Walgreens). I bought 2 of them because I have 2 eyes and didn’t want to run out!!!  So, I was then able to gather my meds, paperwork, medical/ID cards, post-it notes, etc. for my surgery tote. It’s kind of like prepping your baby bag when pregnant – only I was birthing new eyeballs! BTW – wear a button-down shirt for the procedure – because pulling a turtleneck over an eyeball that was recently operated on would be a very bad idea! Great advice given to me which you should heed. You are fairly loopy after surgery and should not handle large machinery or turtlenecks! 3.  C-Day – Cataract Surgery : Understandably, you can’t eat or drink after midnight before a surgery. I was fine with the no food and water part – but felt a headache coming on - because that also included NO COFFEE! Drinking coffee at age 3 is normal - right? Just prior to leaving home – I had to do my pre-surgery eye drops for dilation. I was told to arrive an hour early for sign in. Very busy waiting room of seniors! Ed was with me because you obviously can’t drive yourself home. We waited for about 45 minutes and I still hadn’t been called up to sign in? Ed manned up and took control - reminding the nursing staff that there was a sign-up sheet of people (& me) waiting for check in. They claimed that they didn’t SEE this sheet – which made me a little concerned. It all worked out and I was called into the surgical area shortly after my delayed check in. At this point they had to put more dilating drops in my eye because I had once again timed out. As we were walking to my cubicle – the prep nurse asked if I needed to go to the bathroom. I said, “Of course. I’m a woman. I can POD – Pee on Demand!” Once in my cubicle, I had my vitals taken. Lots of health questions, temp, the dreaded Blood Pressure, etc. I liked my prep nurse – she had a sense of humor. Once the basics were out of the way – we had the serious surgery prep. I only had to strip off my top and kept my bra, pants and combat boots on. It made me laugh to see my boots sticking out of the gown and blanket while on the gurney. She proceeded to put large black metal clamps on my forearms – which reminded me of my husband’s woodworking clamps. I said, “Are you planning on electrocuting me? Are these for reviving me if something goes wrong?” She laughed and explained the clamps. I had a Brain Fart while she explained and can’t for the life of me remember their usage. She had to put an IV into my arm and all was going well until I looked down at the bloody mess that was my arm and asked, “Should I be concerned?” She ignored my question and asked me if she could get me anything - and I said, “I’ll take some coffee.” This became a running joke because that was my answer for every question posed throughout this whole procedure.  The next stage was the surgical nurse – with additional prepping for the event. I had wires and hook-ups all over me. She explained the process – laser room was first and did not require anesthesia. I squeaked, “WHAT?” She said, “Don’t look so panicked – it’s painless.” Of course, that’s coming from a young woman who has never had cataract surgery!!! I also asked her for coffee. Stage 3 was the anesthesiologist. She applied more (numbing) drops. As she was doing her thing, I noticed that my left eye was getting droopy (the non-surgery eye). I said, “Why is my left eye droopy and sleepy?” She looked confused and said, “I only put numbing drops in your right eye and it doesn’t make you sleepy – that occurs when I give you the Twilight Anesthesia (Juice) in your intravenous prior to the new lens procedure.” We just looked at each other. I had no explanation for my droopy left eye except maybe it’s show of solidarity with the right eye surgery? So, I dropped that conversation and didn’t ask her for coffee. They rolled me into the “Laser Room” and quickly prepped me for Part A of cataract surgery. I'm fuzzy on the details because I was getting nervous and checking out. Dr. Pramanik very calmly explained what was happening and inserted a round, spring-loaded  “monocle”   into my eye cavity in the “blink(less) of an eye” and they laid me down and strapped my head in place to prevent movement. It reminded me of every horror movie I’ve seen of being immobile and tortured slowly. The nurse whipped me around underneath the laser. They didn’t give you time to freak out or run! The laser did its job while I “Clockworked Orange” underneath. Super-fast procedure. The monocle kept my eye stabilized and prevented me from blinking and screaming in agony as the laser cut off my eyelid. Oops! Sorry my imagination just took over my typing hands!  Once that was completed, they administered the Twilight Juice. If I could have wept tears of joy – I would have. Part B of the surgery was inserting my new Toric lens. This part got weird. I was vaguely aware of the activity but didn’t care. I heard disembodied voices/conversations about mundane things – but can’t recall the actual words. Picture of strange old woman laughing after cataract surgery! I had a bizarre light show going on in my right eyeball that kept me transfixed. I was having a laser show and northern lights spectacle being performed for a concert of one. It was somewhat nightmarish but not unpleasant. Like a vivid dream that you can’t wake up from and unsure if you should scream or go with the flow. I wonder if this is what an acid trip feels like? BTW – spectacle(s) means – as in defects of vision or something exhibited to view as unusual, notable or entertaining. Eye-catching or dramatic public display. An accurate description. Next thing I know – I’m back in a cubicle and awake(ish). I was still loopy. The nurse asked if I wanted something to drink. My husband appeared out of nowhere to hear the discharge instructions (because I wouldn’t remember). I'm a Rock Star - in my mind! Someone please take that phone away from me. I immediately asked two questions, “Ed, where is my phone? I want you to take some pictures.” Second question was for the nurse, “Do you have coffee? Thanks.” They said no to coffee and gave me cranberry juice. I pounded down 2 cups and then had water – because they still refused to give me coffee. I made Ed take some pix while I was laughing for no reason. I grabbed the phone and took a selfie while doing a rockstar peace sign. I was a lunatic – wobbly, giggling and hard to handle. I eventually got dressed and was asked to leave. So, I put on my unattractive Black Out Goggles (sunglasses) that came with my discharge paperwork.  Ed won't let me wear these in public. I look like a fly! 4.   Post-Surgery – Convalescing and Bored : Once home, I proceeded to sit on the couch for the remainder of the day – except when I had to do my eye drop regimen. I still had my plastic eye shield – which was heavily taped down on my face. When I removed it for the first round of drops – I had a hematoma above my right eyebrow and half that eyebrow was missing. Curious? WTF happened while I was at the concert. Ed and I surmised that my old delicate onion-skin face bruised when they strapped me down? Maybe I struggled or started gurney-dancing while at the concert? Apparently, they also gave me a waxing/threading to reshape my eyebrow to match my new shiny eyeball. I should have asked for a facial while I was under the twilight influence. I also needed a waxing for my mustache, goatee and nose hair forest. I’ll ask them to do that for my next surgery. My new eyebrow gives me a cock-eyed expression. I now look quizzical, comically quaint, mildly teasing and mocking - with a splash of puzzlement.  Cataract surgery essentials! I recommend setting your alarm for the eye drop reminders (4 x per day). I also set a timer after each drop – for 3 minutes – because you need to wait for it to absorb into your eyeball before doing the next one. You will be applying a MILLION drops to your eye for 1 month after surgery X 2.  Pay Attention!!! My right eye felt like I had shards of glass and grit – which made my eye leaky and my right nostril never stopped running. I got very concerned and called Mid-Atlantic late afternoon. They told me to take Tylenol for the pain and if worsened to call the overnight attending doctor. They also called in an ointment (like eyeball aspirin) in case I panicked (over-reacted) even more. BTW - they ask that you continue to wear your glasses while your eye(s) adjust. Post-surgery - still loopy! I suffered through my eye drops and put on my eye shield for bedtime. I had a post-op appointment early the next morning to check my eye progress. The pain had lessened come morning. I did not shower – because you CANNOT get that eye wet for a couple weeks after surgery. I still needed to research and figure out how to navigate the showering. My eye was doing okay – but I had elevated “eyeball pressure” that needed to come down to normal before I could leave. I had my purse and tote of eyedrops with me and kept moving them out of the way for the tech to do her thing. I finally said, “Sorry, but I have a lot of baggage that I carry around with me everywhere!” She laughed which made me appreciate that she got my pathetic joke. They gave me 3 kinds of eyeball pressure drops X 3 - over the course of an hour until they were satisfied. It symbolized my outlook on life – Too much pressure and I need to calm the f**k down! I wondered what would happen if they couldn’t bring my pressure down – would my eyeball explode? Anyway, it finally deflated and they gave me an eye exam. My vision had already improved quite a bit. Pretty miraculous! An excuse to wear all your cute PJ's! I love crosswords! I had to tell them that I occasionally had a “strobe, shimmer, underwater ripple” that was hard to describe – so they called in another eye drop for me to take for pressure and to shut me up. I almost asked for a Xanax prescription to alleviate the mental/high blood pressures. Sigh! Once home, I really wished that my packet came with an Eyeball Barometer with all the potential anomalies. They cover the more severe possibilities but not the unknown odd things that can occur. My sister was helpful in assuaging my fears. She said that over the course of the week before my next surgery my eye would gradually adjust. Once I had my second surgery – I should notice a big difference. It’s a bit wonky having one eye done – while still wearing my glasses – doing eyedrops and wearing an eye shield at night. Like me, my eyes are very confused.  Pepe Le Pew PJ's! I don't own sexy ones. Surgery #2 is 2/15 – a couple days from now. I’ll take Valentine’s Day to prep for Thursday - mentally and physically. No romance this year! I still have a slight “water shimmer” effect and my right eyeball looks bigger than my left – but trying to be calm and let this baby heal.  A couple important tips to remember when convalescing after cataract surgery:  A.  Do Not bend over from the waist! It creates a lot of pressure on your eyeballs. I admit I forgot a couple times (it was more than 2) – anticipating my eyeball bursting and spraying all over the floor. I love to bend over but I now know it’s harmful to your eyeball pressure. My husband is very disappointed. B.   Do Not hold in your sneeze! I was terrified the first time one was coming on – afraid my eyeball would go flying across the room. I am a violent sneezer! C.   Do Not strain when you poop! I remember when the nurse was giving me instructions prior to being released - I asked Ed, “Did she just say don’t Poop?” Who knew your eyeballs were affected by your constipation!! Yes, anesthesia causes bowel issues. D.  Do Not lift your 25 lb. cat! She’ll eventually stop meowing and get over it (I hope). E.   Do Not eat only comfort food! You can’t exercise for a long time. I combat weight gain by working out a lot. I gained 3 lbs. by day #2 of sitting on the couch binging TV and snacks. Stock your fridge and snack bins with a few healthy items to balance the gallon of post-op ice cream in your freezer.  F.   How to Shower Post-Surgery! Buy yourself a big box of Big-Ass Waterproof Band-Aids that cover your entire eye plus half your face and add some waterproof tape to make sure nothing leaks in. Put your shower head on low pressure and never fully immerse your face or head. Be conscious and careful – so you can wash your hair and body of the post-surgery sour sweat.  Big Ass Band-Aids! G.  DO NOT RUB YOUR EYE(S)! Ignore that phantom itch that will inevitably occur the minute the Doctor says, “Don’t rub your eyes for the first couple weeks – it could damage your cataract.” Wash your hands before touching your delicate new eyeballs. You can use a sterile cotton disposable pad or cotton ball to remove eye boogers and clean your eyelid – but you must not apply any pressure while doing so. Be gentle..  I talk about being a clean freak – so by Day #3 of convalescing - I was chomping at the bit to vacuum! Ed gave me permission with his supervision. He obviously had no intentions of vacuuming or cleaning while I recovered. I couldn’t crawl around and clean underneath everything like I normally do – but I was so excited to vacuum because I was bored out of my effing mind!!!  My nephew Monkey The Pug sent me a get well card! 5.  Surgery #2 – Left Eye : I admit that I expected to be less nervous with my 2nd surgery – but it was the opposite. I was cranky and really wanted coffee - so I would have to cancel the surgery. We arrived at DEI to an empty waiting room. We both thought this odd and that we got the date wrong. I found out that a lot of people wait 2 weeks between surgeries – so that mob of seniors on 2/8 were probably due the following week. I had everyone’s full attention!!  Things were slightly different round 2. It took less time to prep me. I had a different nurse who was bored and taciturn. She didn’t ask me if I needed anything – so I never got the chance to ask for coffee. It was pretty mundane until she inserted my intravenous needle. I told her I had “rolling veins” and she proved it – because she kept missing!! I was moaning like a sick cow while she attempted to hit my wandering vein. It reminded me of the first time I got on a waterbed - trying to maneuver the waves - while attempting to look confident and sexy for the idiot I was dating. Only men think waterbeds are a turn on. He weighed about 150 lbs. more than me so every time he moved – I went flying! My vein had a mind of its own and being coy by rolling away from the nurse’s needle. Without apology – she finally got it in. I rode that pain just to get my happy, sleepy juice!!  As my surgical nurse got me prepped for my procedure, I asked, “They had a lot more wires attached to me last time – why is it different?” She said, “No, it’s the same??” My imagination was apparently working overtime on the first surgery – everything was way more complicated round 1. She was very sweet and wrapped me in warm blankets (yes – they have toaster-warm blankets that I now want for my home) and walked me to the Laser Room. I was more aware this time as she strapped me to my laser bed. While we waited for Dr. Pramanik – I felt like my head wasn’t as secure as the first time and started to worry that I’d accidentally move (run away) during the procedure. My nurse was a little too sweet and afraid to cause me any discomfort – so I asked her to re-tighten my strap and re-wedge me into position. Dr. P arrived to put in my monocle – which is very discomfiting – and I was way more aware second time around of this spring-loaded torture device. This time round I remembered everything. They poured a thick fluid into the eye socket monocle device and then a suction cup gets snapped into place over the monocle. Disconcerting to say the least and my blood pressure shot up in anticipation of what was next on the menu – cataract slice and dice. I remained frozen while the machine did its job and expelled my breath once completed. My nurse had to help me walk back to my gurney because I was wobbly. I did not recall this procedure in such detail the first time. It is painless and quick - but still unnerving. My anesthesiologist arrived to get me ready for the new cataract lens. She explained that this time round – I would be more aware of what was going on – that the first time most people don’t remember anything. I am not “most people.” I had the best power nap - EVER!!! I remember nothing from this part of the second eye surgery. They were all surprised. I was also out-of-it and may have been abusive to Ed? The nurse had to order a wheelchair and kept holding me down until it arrived. She sent Ed to get the car while I attempted to get dressed without falling over. As she wheeled me out – I kept making "squealing tire noises" whenever she turned a corner - while giggling hysterically. I kept telling her to go faster!! I also managed to tell her the story of how Ed and I met, all about my menopause book and I may have told her a couple of my deepest darkest secrets - within the span of 10 minutes. I didn’t know Twilight Juice equated to Confessional Juice! Now I have to kill her. Second eye surgery - just came down from my high! Once home - I woke up and had my vat of coffee. When I removed my plastic eye shield and did my first round of eyedrops - I realized that the “hematoma” and “reshaped eyebrow” on my first eye - was fiction. The hematoma was actually the surgical mark above the surgery eye (so they didn’t accidentally do the wrong one). The waxed eyebrow was in fact my everyday eyebrow and my quizzical expression is normal. My second eye surgery was less painful after the procedure. I barely felt any discomfort – no shards of glass.  My post-op appointment the next morning went well but revealed that my left eye also had pressure issues – so those drops just shifted over to the left eye. The amount of drops you must do over the course of 5 weeks (4 weeks each eye) is ridiculous but necessary. You have to pay close attention to which eye gets which drops because as you see from the image  Crazy-Ass Eye Drop Schedule! the amount of drops eventually reduce as time goes by. Cross off as you go. Keep in mind that you had your 2nd surgery a week or two after your first one – so that makes the eye drop regimen even more confusing. I was one of the youngest patients and can’t fathom how older (than 65) people keep this schedule straight. I decided to set my phone alarm(s) and to lock myself in the bathroom – no bright shiny objects to distract me from completing my mission – 4 times a day. Below are a few observations and tips while my left eye adjusts and acclimates to seeing life in a more colorful, brighter, crisper perspective. It also needs to learn how to work with my right eyeball – teamwork is key. I feel like a newborn baby – viewing the world for the first time in Hi-Def Resolution. When you’ve had muddled eyesight since 1-year-old – this transition of clarity is a little shocking. No more squinting to read!! This was my permanent expression before glasses! A.  Drainage System  – When you put drops into your eyeballs – you’ll experience a runny nose almost immediately. While applying the millions of eyedrops for post cataract surgery – keep a box of tissues nearby to catch the overflow. Once the eye drops have fulfilled their purpose of medicating the eyeball – the extra fluid drains from the tear duct into the nostril cavity and then down your throat – thus resulting in a sometimes-colorful runny nose (some drops are yellow). The first time I blew my nose and it came out yellow – I was a bit concerned! Everything is connected in your body – so imagine my surprise when my pee also got very “yellow!” In fact, I think I’m peeing more (if that’s even possible) since I’ve been imbibing all these eyeball drops!!! I call this leakage my – Freight Train of Tears – carrying all my baggage from eyeball to nostril to urine. In one end and out the other. B.  Eyeball Shield  – I’ve noticed two things since I started wearing a plastic eye shield for sleep. One - that this protection device looks like a codpiece or athletic cup for a very small penis! I searched for a small jockstrap to fit on my head – but had to use 3M first aid paper tape to secure it in place. Two - the 3M gentle paper tape is applied to your old, fragile, onionskin face every night to secure your codpiece (plastic eyeshield). Pulling that tape off is like getting a chemical peel every morning. I bought the “gentle” tape and can’t imagine what the regular tape would do to my face. The first time I tried pulling it off my sagging face – my cheek looked like silly putty – being pulled and stretched to the breaking point. I never did that again but have stress chafing on my cheeks like I got a freezer burn in the shape of tape strips. I have to admit that this is a good product but not kind to my tissue skin. C.   Keep Moving – Like a Shark – As a woman of 65, eliminating exercise for even a week or two is devastating. Within a couple days of minimal movement – I found my Monkey Suit disengaging from my skeletal framework. The stress of surgery and anesthesia on your body is bad enough and ages you 10 years. With the additional instructions to keep movement down to a standing/sitting crawl sets you back months on maintaining strength and muscle tone. I need to confirm when I can resume exercise – because I’ve gained 5 lbs. - sagging arms/core/ass/thighs and have formed Worry Warts (hemorrhoids). So, any time you sit for more than an hour – make sure you get up and briskly walk a circuit around your house or yard – to minimize the damage. We don’t bounce back as quickly as we did 20 years ago.  D.  Cheaters – I’m not referring to your husband/partner – but your eyes. When the new eyeballs start to heal and adjust – you’ll go through the various stages of repaired and rejuvenated vision. First, it’s a little cloudy and out of focus. But very quickly, your eyes become clearer, cleaner and improved vision for color and distance. But when you go to read something the first time – you realize that you might need assistance. I understand why they told me to continue wearing my glasses during convalescing. I have tri-focal glasses and couldn’t see with the top part of my lens but could still read with the bottom part. Very confusing to my eyes. I waited until my second surgery to get my first reading glasses (and stop wearing my normal glasses). DO NOT buy expensive readers until your eyes have completely healed and adjusted to their new prescription (a few weeks). Target is too expensive ($20 each) – buy them on Amazon ($15 for a pack of 5 in different colors). I stupidly and impatiently bought the Target pair initially, but my eyes are still changing and immediately ordered cheap ones on Amazon with a different strength. I discovered very quickly that I need a pair for every room while I juggle multiple pairs of eyewear. Trust me when I say - juggle and multiple. I have my prescription glasses and sunglasses, non-prescription sunglasses, readers, etc. None of them are where I need them. I am so used to having glasses on my face that I was excited to buy my first pair of Cheaters!! Unfortunately, they don't make toddler size readers for my petit head! I will continue to wear glasses because I don’t wear make-up – they  are my make-up! I also buy hip/cool frames which have always been a personality/fashion statement. I have an eye exam on March 8th to determine my new eye prescription. I will need readers and may need glasses for distance. We’ll see. But I’m pretty sure I’ll continue to wear glasses – even if they just have clear plastic lenses. FYI – this is the first time that I can read subtitles on the TV while sitting on the couch. I cried while reading it out loud to Ed. He was so proud and so happy he no longer had to read for me. Be kind to your eyes. You only have two. With cataract surgery comes not only clarity in your eyesight – but in your life. It’s all part of the aging process and surviving the aging hurdles. I hope this blog is helpful to those diagnosed with cataracts. I write to share my somewhat messy experiences and to offer moral support - whether it's menopause or cataract surgery. You are not alone. If you have any questions – please feel free to get in touch.  My husband Ed was very helpful and supportive during this whole process. He just had a couple concerns. He said, “When your eyes get fixed – will you look at me and wonder where Paul Newman went?” Every time he hugged me, he’d say, “I don’t want to squeeze (hug) you too tight and pop your eyeball out and I really don’t want to clean that mess up!” I wish they could resuscitate my hormones!! There won't be a cleaning product tip at the end of this blog - because my NEW EYEBALLS ARE THE CLEANING TIP!!! I have a whole new perspective on dirt and grime with these new babies!!! I can spot dirt, stains, lint, pet hair from a mile away!! I can't wait to clean!!! I LOVE COFFEE! If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or aging stories or conversations with your furry children - we could commiserate on our peculiarities and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shameing on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 43 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your friends, family, superheroes and SM followers - that have any upcoming colonoscopy or cataract procedures!   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

The good, the bad and the bumping uglies of growing older! Photo Bombing Found Studio Shop! Visit us 5/3/25 at 11am - 3pm! I'll bring the books and chocolates!! Senior Sex and Spouses! What the hell happened to my voracious sex drive? Before I begin my blog topic - I want to mention again - that I've done the Positive Pause Podcast with Claire Gill, Founder of the National Menopause Foundation . Claire is my Superhero! Please check out their website for a wealth of information on everything menopause, women, sex and growing older. I am eternally grateful for this opportunity to share my own personal journey on the Positive Pause Podcast (#32) !! https://nationalmenopausefoundation.org/podcast-2/ I will also be doing a book signing/selling on Saturday, May 3rd, 2025 - 11am to 3pm - for the Mother's Day Shoppers. Kacey Stafford, owner of Found Studio Shop , in Lauraville at 4315 Harford Road, Baltimore, MD 21214. Kacey is not only an artist but also a patron of the local artists/creatives. I'll be hawking my book upstairs to anyone who has a pulse. Perfect Mother's Day gift for anyone between the ages of 20 and 80. Lots of other fun demo's (Soapworks) and fantastic gifts to peruse. This neighborhood gem is a must-visit. Can't wait to see you there. Lot's a laughs!! Now back to Senior Sex! Is this an oxymoron? Depends on who you ask and what gender you ask. When I started having menopause symptoms, I knew little about this life changing mystery ailment that women must endure. I discovered the sweaty hard truths that sex and my feelings about sex - went part and parcel with all my menopausal symptoms - hot flashes, mood swings, sleeplessness, weight gain, vaginal dryness, etc. etc. I also found out that my heart palpitations were a result of menopause, NOT arousal! Senior Sex Tumbling Tumbleweeds! Chapter 8 in my book touches on sex and the arid desert (vagina and inner environs). Here's an excerpt from my book " Menopause the Horror, Humility and Humor of It All!! " "The Arid Desert!" "Or as I like to call it - My Tumbling Tumbleweeds! With estrogen and progesterone abandoning me - so did every drop of moisture and natural lubrication for my vagina. I equate my dried-up "Vadge" like this: Envision - Pre-Coitus - I hear the lonely whistling tune of a Sergio Leone Spaghetti Western soundtrack as I slowly spread my thighs while squinting at my husband suggestively and out roll the tumbling tumbleweeds! It's a fact!!! I swear it's true!! It scares the shit out of both you and your partner. It's a real mood changer. Actually, they are metaphorical tumbling tumbleweeds - but that doesn't minimize the reality of my vaginal desert-like climes. I equate the internal walls of my vagina as crepe paper or onion skin - thin, delicate and easily torn. Think about it! I recently went for my annual GYN appointmemt. My new doctor and I discussed my vaginal disuse and the painful result - and how to get it back in working order. As he penetratd me with 2 hulk-sized fingers - describing and explaining my gossamer vaginal walls - I immediately started blurting out words of discomfort and pain. As I grunted, "Ow! Ow! That hurts! Owie! Owie!" - I slowly turned my head and looked at the 11-year-old nurse who had backed up into the corner with a look of sheer horror and disgust at me and her future. No help there. I go into more detail in Chapter 9 about this natural disaster." This excerpt gives you an abbreviated look into a horror movie plot line. Senior Sex (less) Drive! Excerpt from Chapter 9: "Sex (Less)" "I gradually lost my "Sex Drive." The only thing that turned me on was fantasizing about 2 men having.....I'm going to stop there. I think you catch my drift! That is a whole other book to write. I just don't care! But unfortunately, with that lethargy, also comes guilt and self-loathing. But that is also another book to write. Thanks to menopause - sex was an uncomfortable afterthought. Over the course of a decade, it ultimately ended with these thoughts, "Why can't we just cuddle or You're my best friend!" Essentially, it boils down to this: I'm a virgin every time - and I didn't care for it the first time!!! Marrying a man 5 years younger was a great idea initially. He kept me young and was someone to take care of me in my old age - but, not so great during my menopausal years. No adult male understands a menopausal woman. Sorry, My Love! Luckily, it's all worked out. I now carry Ed's balls in my purse for my protection." As I said in the opening of this blog, I had (past tense) a voracious sex drive - prior to menopause. I still haven't talked about losing my virginity - but it was traumatizing and impacted my outlook on sex for a very long time. I was in my prime years during the 80's. Living in NY was a smorgasbord of sexual options. I tested the waters in a variety of ways. My grab bag of choices was varied and plentiful. Did I make some gargantuan errors in judgement? YES! Did I hit the jackpot on occasion? YES! Just as my acting career was taking off - I had a biological meltdown and tragically got married (trial run) around 30. My gut screamed at me to reverse this decision. I ignored my gut. I went with safe not sexy. I was at the peak of sexual arousal in my 30's and a virgin for the first 5 years of that decade (marriage). Once freed from the 5-year-shackles of matrimony - I was a f**king tigress of hormonal unsated needs. I hunted and hypnotized my prey into submission. I had sex with anyone I desired and forgot about them when I grew weary of their limited charms. Always seeking fulfillment but never satiated. Then I met Ed and everything changed. We had a passionate rocky start - thanks to me - but love prevailed and I met my mate for life. Sadly, I started peri-menopause about 2 years into our marriage. I don't talk about this much - but I had a miscarriage year 2. It was a horrible and scary miscarriage. I never planned on having children but was devastated by this tragedy. It resulted in my inability to conceive a child and also ignited my peri-menopause. It wasn't gradual - but hit me with a tsunami of menopausal symptoms. I list most of them in my book but have recently discovered I had other symptoms that I didn't connect to menopause - like heart palpitations. The most devastating symptom was losing my desire for sex and even romance. I lost the ability to care. Emotionally I was neutered. Don't think the irony of being celibate while at my sexual pinnacle during my first marriage and spayed by menopause while married to the man of my dreams during my second marriage - is not lost on me. Life throws you cabbage, when you wanted lobster! You have to understand that I started Peri-Menopause fairly early - during my early 40's. A decade that I normally would have been sexually active - without getting high as a proverbial kite. The vaginal dryness did not appear overnight - but the mood swings did. I was a very angry woman. A creeping descent of ennui and burbling, roiling toxicity invaded my soul. I didn't want sex, like sex or desire intimacy of any kind. I felt like I was outside my body - looking inward at the train wreck I was enabling into fruition. I was paralyzed with fear, loathing and shame that I would destroy my second marriage just like my ex destroyed the first. It was turbulent times and I was floundering. Menopause is an insidious biological process that is considered natural, but is in fact a mental and physical killer of sexual desire. Let me be clear - this is my experience! It will be different for each woman. But, for me, it was devastating to lose a vital marital criterion. My husband was and is a very sexual creature and I was denying him passion that I eagerly gave while we dated. Neither of us could understand this change and it almost cost us our marriage. The dearth of menopausal information also contributed to the tension, fights, confusion and hurt. Menopause is being discussed and researched a lot more these days (in my 60's) but still lacks recognition in the medical community, unlike men's erectile dysfunction (or as I like to call it - "Correctile Dysfunction" - the condition of Mansplaining !) - read my blog "How to Communicate with Your Primate!" We have managed to stay together - no matter what has or may occur in this f**ked up world. We are soul mates and will stick together whether we like it or not. I meant that in a healthy realistic way - because we love each other unconditionally. So, what is the solution and secret to our lasting relationship - sans regular sex? Communication: We sucked at communicating our first decade. I couldn't communicate what was happening to my body and mind - because I didn't know and therefore couldn't explain what was happening to me. But, Ed would occasionally sit me down for a "talk." I dreaded these talks like I dreaded having intimacy or a colonoscopy. Our "talks" were not pleasant and polite because we were both so frustrated and hurt. But, over time and with aging wisdom - our talks have improved. It's still tough but we are both trying to be more adult and less trigger-nasty emotionally. Writing my book about my menopausal journey has helped me explain my actions and inactions to my husband during the almost two decades of symptoms. I think he now understands how difficult this change of life was and continues to be - menopause never ends. Ed's a first born and I'm a middle child. He's in control, in charge and knows best. I'm insecure and hate my short-comings but not stupid. I react defensively the minute someone talks down to me or at me. We are both passionate in our reactions and need to learn how to stop, be patient and take a breath before responding. We are both working on these reactionary character flaws and improve each year as we age. We are both trying to listen before responding or reacting. Appreciate your communicating spouse! Be smarter than the average human and learn from your childish (petulant) ways. Respect each other! Flattery: My husband flatters me every day. I'm not great at accepting flattery. My intial reaction is to deflect or make a derogatory joke - which negates the compliment I just received. That drives Ed nuts!! I immediately start refuting the praise and explain why it couldn't possibly be true. This makes Ed mad!! He can't understand why I don't see myself the way he sees me and accept a compliment. It's very much a man vs. woman thing. Women, expecially older women, are often treated as if invisible or irrelevant - so this is absorbed into our psyche - which makes a lot of us uncomfortable or suspicious when flattered. We are also inundated with negative media and public opinion that as you wrinkle (age) your value depreciates. I say in my book, "I dress up pretty nice - but I never want to be surprised in the shower!!"  But, my husband has always found me attractive and more so since I've aged into Senior Status. Every time Ed wiggles up to me with hands extended and a come-hither look in his eyes - doing the age-old dance of seduction - I feel myself stiffen up a little - because I know he's going to compliment me or grab my boobies. I need to relax and appreciate the fact that my husband finds me desirable and sexy - even if I don't. Flattery works both ways. Flatter your partner when merited. Men like to be praised. My husband is a good-looking man. He's masculine and sexy - especially since he's gone salt and pepper. His face remains wrinkleless (which pisses me off!). I have a different approach to stroking his ego (I don't shake the banana) - but consider myself lucky that I have a younger hot man on my arm! Of course, I still need to impart my fashion savvy when we go out and he's wearing the wrong colors or combos. Ed appreciates my input because he wants to look pretty too! Senior Sex: One could consider those 2 words an oxymoron. I'm cringing as I type them. Not in the way you think, but because of my deficit (drought) in this area. My husband is the opposite. We are compatible in all areas except sex. I have spurts but they are few and far between. He spurts every day. When I watch sex portrayed on TV or a movie between 2 super hot actors - I become uncomfortable because I know that Ed is getting turned on and hoping that I am as well. It's not that I don't wish I reacted differently - it's just physiologically I can't. However, that excuse is wearing thin even on me. Let me explain. Even though my vagina is essentially retired from sex - because it f**king hurts to have sex - and estradiol cream doesn't work on me - I still have a working clitoris. That little erogenous nesting nubbin might seem dormant - but if pushed just so - can elicit past memories of erotic days of yore! If I can only get past my brain telling me that I don't like sex - I can actually enjoy being fondled and stimulating my husband in return. I have to relax. I need to believe that my husband is okay with alternatives to penetration. Whether orally or by hand - both you and your partner can enjoy sexual pleasure together - without inflicting moisture-less pain. Of course, when performing, I demand darkness - like being in a sensory tank but not alone. Old woman skin isn't as supple, taut and cooperative like it used to be - so I prefer to engage in these sex acts in the shadows. Also, we can't forget the genius invention of the vibrator!! I need to dust off mine and ring my devil's doorbell (happy button) more often. Water-based lubes for Senior Sex is also key - whether basting the turkey or stroking the trombone - lubes prevent calluses! My husband enjoys porn but I become a disappointed movie critic. Reading erotica can be stimulating. I lean towards male on male couplings - but Ed finds this topic discomfiting. But, you can each enjoy whatever ignites the mental groin and share those fantasies with each other. Respect your partner's sexual proclivities. Everyone has a kinky side. Maybe you can find common ground - the woman as dominant and the male as submissive! That sounds fun!! Additonal advice: Cuddling and caressing are lovely - as long as you honor each other's boundaries. I'm ticklish, so that soft effleurage makes me either giggly or irritated as shit. Also, don't go near my underarms or you will get pummeled by a banshee. Massaging is a treat. Massages knead out stresses, tensions and inhibitions - and might segue into additional pleasures - or a fantastic nap! Subdued lighting, candlelight or total darkness are also helpful. I work out A LOT and still can't tauten my wrinkly monkey suit. Gravity is cruel when aging and I prefer to maintain some mystery with my spouse (and the world). I discover new areas on my body daily that I thought were impossible to wrinkle. Most recent spot was laying on the floor next to my dog. As I leaned over to pet his head, I looked up at the underside of my forearm and screamed! A body snatcher moment! My sister recently gave me some sage advice, "When standing up, I choose not to look behind me. If I can't see it - it doesn't exist!" So, never hold a magnified mirror under your lifted thigh in the bathroom, or never pose naked - with your back facing the full length mirror - while glancing over your shoulder, and lastly, never lay on the floor and look anywhere but at your dogs adorable furry face. Just sayin! Being more confident would be soooooo great - but that's a lifelong work in progress - especially for middle children . (Growing Up Middling Blog Series) Holding hands when out for a walk is comforting and often gets comments from younger people, "You guys look so cute holding hands!" Which translates to, "You old folks look adorable helping each other from falling down!!" Being each other's best friend is as important as loving one another. Learn to like your partner! I'll end with this pearl of wisdom. Do not believe the movies and TV shows that portray Seniors having Sex! It's all a soft focus lie!! Beautiful older actresses go through menopause and handsome older actors get erectile dysfunction - just like the rest of us. They also have stunt doubles with younger/better bodies for those sex scenes! I hear about all the seniors in retirement communities passing around STDs, or getting caught in each other's beds by the staff, or polite little old christian ladies screaming sexual innuendos to any passersby. This happens - but I question the mutual agreement in some of these couplings, or if they actually did the dirty deed, or my brain is still in denial and my mind's eye just exploded! More wisdom - EVERY WRINKLE MAKES US MORE BADASS! Getting old(er) is better in so many ways - but like life - you have to put on your reading glasses to decipher all the teeny fine print! Humor makes everything (even sex) palatable! If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or aging stories or your sex life as a senior - we could commiserate on our peculiarities and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shameing on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 43 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your Senior Sex deprived friends, family, superheroes and SM followers.   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

Hurry up you foolish wench!! Stop talking to yourself and turn on our royal spigot! We must have a beverage and bath!! Happy Mother's Day!! I consider our "pets" as part of the family unit. We don't have children and our furballs have filled that void. Rather than dealing with the terrible 2's or teenage rage or having a permanent rent-free tenant into their 40's - we have the pleasure of a pet's unconditional love - for the most part! I've written about all our pets over the years in previous blogs , but today I'll concentrate on our current extended family - Tatertot and Rey. WHY ARE YOU HOLDING MY HEAD! MUST CONSUME VAST AMOUNTS OF WATER AND VOMIT!!! Like Helen Mirren in the Uber Eats commercial, I narrate (talk to myself) about my every move - all day long - often in the presence of Tater or Rey. Sometimes I get a response with a mind-numbing bark or meow. But, more often than not, I get no response - just a quizzical expression of curiosity or concern. I'd like to think they are interested in everything I say - but obviously it's with their own agenda in mind. We don't have multiple collars, cutsie outfits, baby prams, fancy beds, etc. for our furry children because our pets have never been breeds or personalities that desire the fancier accoutrements. We pamper our loved ones to a degree of sanity. I'm not disparaging those that choose the path of luxury pet couture items - but I know that our border collies/aussie have all had rudimentary needs and frou-frou things don't interest them. Also, any attempts on my part to enhance their cuteness, have immediately been removed (shredded) with disdain. Give them a ball, kong or frisbee - anything that is thrown &/or bounces - and you have one happy pup! They are outdoor (and indoor) herding dogs - so we are used to being coaxed (herded) in certain directions even though going to the bathroom was my intention all along. Pampering them is allowing them to lay on our (my) feet every night while watching TV. You just have to wake those feet up before you stand or the alternative can be painful and embarassing! If you really want to coddle them - you allow them on the couch - but once you start allowing those couch privileges - it's hard to reverse. Most of our dogs have been food driven - but, like humans - you need to portion out the treats. They don't get unlimited treats - or they'd weigh 150 lbs. and never have the energy to chase a ball. Encouraging them early on with carrots, cucumbers and dried sweet potato wedges as an alternative treat is key. It's inevitable that you'll have to bathe them as puppies - so make it a pleasurable event - so you can manage the crazy as they age. As puppies - introduce them to brushing. As you gently pull out wads of hair - call them pretty or handsome - so come spring-time you can rid them of the massive quantity of winter fur accumulation. I also recommend you train your dog to like his feet/paws being wiped off about 20 times a day - because their love of the outdoors and running in circles - during sunshine or inclement weather - makes for one messy pup (and house). Tater has learned to assume the position and lift his paws to ease my aging back! Good boy! Dressing up Tater for the Xmas photo was eventful and painful! He's wondering, "WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHY ARE YOU MAD AT ME? WHY AM I WEARING A CAPE? AAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHH??" Tater is a border collie - which is one of the smartest breeds. Border collies also tend to be hyper, ADHD and OCD. Each of our border collies over the last 27 years have had their own unique obsessive quirks. Tater happens to be extra hyper and special, therefore he has a few! He's created a "licking" path from the front door to the office - with 2 spots marking his preferred OCD licks as a permanent feature. He runs back and forth with much agitation and the repetitive action of licking specific spots seems to calm him (and drive me nuts). When the postal person delivers our mail - Tate is at the door sniffing it as if he can suck them inside for inspection - friend or foe? When guests arrive - Tater is the first one out the front door - before they have even entered. He's off doing his favorite activity - running and performing his circuit of the front yard - which he does every time without fail. Tater then comes zooming back inside to determine if these alien humans smell acceptable for home entry. I feel dogs have an innate ability to judge one's character, however, if we've invited people over - they have already been cleared for the "decent humans" criteria. If Ed leaves the house for more than 10 minutes - Tater is a wiggling whirlwind of adoration that his Alpha has returned alive and in one piece. Ed then has to show equal amounts of excitement by picking up the wiggling, yipping furball and twirling him around in circles. Once deposited back to the floor - Tate does his second favorite circuit by running downstairs and touching the corner of the washing machine base and then flying back up and running to the office and then back into the dining room and living room to make sure Ed has not exited the house again. He does not treat me with such enthusiasm - I get a whine, wiggle and sniff. I guess that means I'm the more stable parent? He's smart but not the best judge of parental durability! I'm steadfast in my love for Tate, but not the most mentally sound! Rey, "Why is our human lying in bubbly water naked?" Tater, "MUST JUMP IN AND JOIN MY ALPHA! MUST DRINK ALL THE SELTZER WATER! WHY IS CAT TALKING TO ME???" THROW IT!! THROW IT!! HURRY UP!! WHY IS SHE PHOTOGRAPHING MY FAVORITE CHEW BALL! WHY ARE YOU TORTURING ME!! THROW IT!!!!! Tate does like to lay on my feet whenever I'm seated. Yes, I have been known to stand up and then fall over becuase my feet were asleep! Tater whines often and sometimes at such high pitches - I can't hear him but Ed can. Tate barks when someone is at the door - and at such high pitches - he rings the door chime. I believe my tinnitus is a result of Tater's deafening yips! If I sit down on the couch - Tate will stare at me with his mind-meld capabilities until I notice him. Once he's caught my attention - he runs over to the toy basket and will look back and forth between me and the basket until I get off my ass and play indoor ball toss with him. Once we start playing - I've trained Tate to stop when Ed walks in the room - because if Ed is in the room - all playtime is over (and gives me a break). Sometimes - if we are watching TV and Ed goes to the bathroom - Tate will grab the ball (his toy - not Ed's balls) and throw it at me (with his mouth) to play while Ed is peeing. He'll occasionally run to check Ed's progress to see if we can manage a couple more throws. Tate will alert me of his treat time - which is after breakfast, after dinner and at 8pm (or anytime he thinks he can get away with it). Tate was a covid puppy and unable to socially integrate into the neighborhood dog community. As a result, he took on the roll of protector of Colleen, home and yard - his territory! He was an unpredictable pup towards other dogs and people. He has since grown into a selective aggressor. He prefers women to men - except for Richard - who he adores!! Richard helped me with my book images and was introduced to Tate early on. Richard and Danielle - who Tate adores - have a beautiful sweet tiny whippet that Tate considers his girlfriend. He is madly in love! We discovered his strange aggression (lunging and nipping low - like herding sheep) is dedicated to our local community (street). He was a perfect well-behaved dog on our recent road trip to Florida! We were astonished how chill he was with strange dogs and people. So it confirmed that his territory is his policing beat! Tate's nighttime OCD routine is licking the finger I just used to apply my nighttime lip balm - along with getting his pre-sleep leg and neck massage. He then wedges his head under the bed until lights go out before heading down the stairs to wedge his body on the last step so he can guard the closed door. No cats allowed! A very quick summary of Tater's endearing (peculiar) traits. WHY ARE YOU PREVENTING ME FROM SWIMMING IN THIS BIG STREAM!!! WHY DID THEY PUT SALT IN IT?? UNLEASH ME! MUST GO GET BIG ORANGE BALL ON WATER!!! These are some typical conversations with Tater: A. Dog Walking: Me (in my sing song mommy voice), "Tater - you want to go for a walk?" Tater (whining, barking and running), "EEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!! OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG!!! MUST RUUUUUUUN!! MUST PEE ON THINGS!! MUST SMELL EVERYTHING!! MUST PROTECT MY HUMAN!!! AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH! HURRY UP!!!!!!! Me (a little impatient and firmer voice), "Stop wiggling Tater! We aren't going anywhere til you get your leash on - SIT!" Tater (agitated but sits because he really wants to tour the neighborhood), "BARK! BARK! I LOVE RUNNING DOWN THE STREET WITH YOU IN TOW! YOU SMELL GOOD!" Me (finally leashed - I unlock the gate - but still saying), "Stop! Sit! Sit Tate!" Tater (whining and wiggling in a seated position), "OMG! OMG! I LOVE NON-ALPHA HUMAN! I LOVE SMELLING EVERYTHING! MUST RUUUUUUUUUN!!! HUMAN IS SO SLOW!!" Once out of the gate - it becomes a tug of war until we hit the sidewalk and our daily route. Me (doing my tug on the leash to slow him down while saying), "Stay with me Tate!" Tater (reluctantly following direction - but a tad irritated that I am so f**king slow), "MUST DO MY JOB! MUST SMELL EVERYTHING! MUST CHECK FOR FOREIGN INVADERS! MUST PROTECT MY NON-ALPHA HUMAN! OMG! THAT SMELLS SO GOOD!! OMG! MUST PEE ON IT!! OMG! I LOVE SMELLING PEE AND POOP!! OMG! WALLY WAS HERE AND HE IS MY ENEMY AND I MUST PEE ON HIS PEE TO DEFEAT MY FOE! OMG! OMG! HURRY UUUUUUUP HUMAN!!" Me (getting into a rhythm and doing my normal chatting with Tate while assuming he will respond), "Isn't it a nice day Tater? Look at the pretty flowers! STOP! Don't trample them! Keep moving! NO! Stay on the sidewalk! We are not going on the neighbors lawn!! With me, Tate! With Me!" Tater (disappointed but moving back to the sidewalk), "WHY? WHY? WHY CAN'T I DO MY JOB? I NEED TO IDENTIFY THE UNKNOWN CAT SMELL ON THE GRASS! AAARRRGGGHHHHH!" Me (spying a person up ahead walking their dog - unknown to this neighborhood), "Let's cross the street, Tater. I don't know that dog up ahead." Tater (getting their scent with keen attention - BIG ears at full alert), "OMG! OMG! OMG! WHO IS THAT DOG? IS THAT A DOG??? WHO IS THAT PERSON? THEY DON'T BELONG HERE! OMG! OMG! OMG! I MUST SMELL THEM! I MUST PROTECT MY HUMAN! HURRRY UP SO I CAN BE BRAVE AND SHOW YOU MY UNCONDITIONAL LOVE! HURRY UP SLOW HUMAN!" Tate immediately starts to get his pull collar off to charge into battle - but I prevent him from doing so. It's a predictable pattern on each walk. He loves his routine and focused on three things - sniffing everything, peeing on everything and protecting me/territory. Once we arrive at our final sit position to cross the street to our yard - Tate sits and vibrates until I say "Let's go." He runs like the dogs of hell are at his heels to do his "circuit" - yes, another circuit - around the front yard tree and down the driveway and up the driveway to make sure I'm following and then down to the gate - whining and barking for me to hurry the f**k up! B. Dinner Meal: Unlike his breakfast, the evening meal has the addition of some soft food mixed into his dry kibble. Tater hovers around me between 4 - 5pm because it's approaching his meal-time. Our furry children have uncanny inner clocks. The whining to get my attention and herd me downstairs to the dog food bowl is his way of communicating. Me (grabbing his open can of dog food from the fridge), "Okay Tater - time for dinner!" Tater (immediately running (flying) down the basement stairs before I've finished that sentence - impatiently waiting for me to follow with my very slow (two) human legs), "AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! HURRY UP YOU SLOW BIPED!! WHY DON'T YOU HAVE 4 LEGS? SO MUCH FASTER!! HURRY UP! HURRY UP! I'M SO HUNGRY! MUST HAVE FOOD!! HURRY UP!!!!!!! WHERE'S THE STUPID SCARY CAT!!!! HURRY UP!!!" Me, "Stop jumping. Stop whining. I'm going as fast as I can. Almost there - just got to stir it up. Stop barking!" Tater, "OMG! OMG! I LOVE YOU BUT YOU ARE SOOOOOO SLOOOOOOOOOW! I FEEL FAINT! MUST HAVE YUMMY FOOD! HURRY UP SLOW OLD HUMAN! SORRY! SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO CALL YOU SLOW! I'LL LICK YOU NOW! THAT WILL HELP YOU GO FASTER! OMG! OMG!" Me, "Good god Tater! Calm down! Here you go - you crazy dog!" Tater, "MMMMRRRRGGGGHHH! HAPPY!" Me, "I'm going upstairs. Slow down! This isn't a race." Tater, "WHERE IS MY HUMAN GOING? MUST HURRY! MUST HERD! MMMMMMMRRRRGGGGHHH! YUMMY!" We then reconvene in the kitchen for his after dinner treat. It takes him approximately 2 minutes to eat his bowl of food and run upstairs to make sure I'm standing next to the dog treat container. If I'm not in position - he comes to find me! Me, "Okay, okay! Good puppy! Here's your treat!" Tater, "WHY DOES IT TAKE YOU SO LONG TO..........YUMMY, YUMMY, YUMMY! TREAT YUMMY! WANT MORE! TOO SMALL! CAT GETS 2 TREATS! MUST HAVE MORE TREATS! MMMRRRRGGGGGHHHH! BALL THROW NOW!!!!" C. Inside Ball Throwing: This indoor playtime is in a carefully controlled breakable environment. He is extremely enthusiastic, so I have to make sure I am paying attention and in charge. Tater (while looking at me and then at his toy basket which holds his favorite balls), "BALL! BALL! BALL! BALL! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? I'M STARING AT BIG BASKET! ARE YOU STUPID? SORRY! SORRY!! I WANT BALL! PLAY WITH ME HUMAN! PLAY WITH ME!!! AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!" Me, "Okay! You want to play ball? Let me get your pink one." Tater, "FINALLY! HERE SHE COMES! THE HUMAN IS GETTING MY BALL! GET THE PINK ONE! NOT THE BLUE ONE! PINK ONE SMELLS LIKE DOG MOUTH! LOVE DOG MOUTH! HURRY UP! HURRY UP! MUST CATCH THE PINK BALL! NOW! OMG! OMG! OMG! THE HUMAN IS FINALLY THROWING THE............MRPHBPSAMRMPHLMPHL!!" Me, "Bring it to me. Drop it. Drop it. DROP IT! Good boy!" Tater, "STOP MESSING AROUND! OMG! OMG! OMG! HURRY UP SLOW HUMAN! MUST CATCH BALL 23 TIMES OR WORLD WILL BLOW UP!! THROW IT! THROW IT! 17 MORE TO GO!! THROW IT!!" This continues for the next 20 minutes or until Ed enters the room. Throwing it over and over while either sitting on the couch watching a show or practicing different commands using the ball as incentive. Tater is in dog heaven when catching balls and exhausting me! Playing toss outside is essentially the same except for pooper scopping before playtime. border collies are basically engineered to fly above ground like hovercrafts but a lot faster!! Also, his toy of choice in the backyard is a squeaky pumpkin toy. If we lose this toy - I'll have to wait until Halloween to purchase a new one in the basement bin at Pet Smart! E. Nighttime Routine: Before we head upstairs for the night - Tater is taken out in the front yard for his final nighttime pee! He flies off the porch and proceeds to pee on every tree and sniff out other dog leftovers on the sidewalk and fence. His frenetic last minute pee routine (patrol) marks the next phase of putting the humanoids to bed! Once he is called inside - he runs to the upstairs door and whines until I let him in to check for boogeymen and give us the all clear. I have established a nighttime routine of massaging his legs and giving him a good scratch and rubdown! Then after I've gotten ready for bed and applied my evening lip balm - I let Tater lick my finger. Gross? Yes! But he loves my lip balm and I prefer he lick my finger to my lips!! Ed is jealous but never allowed to lick my finger! I draw the line at humans! Me (after applying my lip balm - but not cleaning off my finger),"Okay Tate! Here you go! Lip balm." Tater (lying on the floor on Ed's side of the bed - awaiting my finger), "OOOOOHHHHH FINGER JUICE!!! SMELLS LIKE MINT AND NON-ALPHA HUMAN! "MMMMMMMMRRRRRPHPPPPPPHHHH....(lick lick lick slurp lick slurp)! MORE! MORE! GET CLOSER! YOUR LIPS SMELL GOOD! CLOSER! CAN'T GET MY TONGUE THAT FAR!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOO.....DON'T LEAVE! MUST LICK YOUR FACE!!!!! MMMMMMMMMMRRRRGGGGMMMMMLLLLLLMMMMMMMMMYUMMY!! SLURP! SLURP! MORE!! MORE!! LIPS!! MMMMMMMMM! MUST CLEAN FINGER OF SMELLY STUFF!!!" Me (while wiping off my finger of Tate juice), "There you go honey! Stop licking me! Time for your massage! Not the lips!" Tater (tongue extended an inch from my face), "LICKING GOOD! MUST LICK MORE! NO! NO! CAN'T LICK HER LIPS! LICK HER ARM! MMMMMM....SO CLOSE TO LIPS! BE GOOD!" Me (while massaging his front legs), "What a good puppy! You are so handsome! Mommy loves you so much! Does that feel good? What a strong puppy!" Tater (lying there while his eyes look away and then dart to look at me - with his front legs sticking straight out), "MMMMMM! AAAAAAAHHHH! MUST NOT MOVE OR HUMAN WILL STOP! LITTLE HIGHER! LIPS SMELL GOOD! NOT SO ROUGH! RUB MY BELLY! MMMMMMM!' Me, "Does that feel good? Let's switch legs! I'll get your shoulders too! Good puppy! Let's rub your chest!" Tater, "BELLY! BELLY! YES! MMMMMMMMMM........LOWER! LOWER! PENIS NEEDS RUBBING TOO! CLOSER! DON'T STOP!!!!! ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHH! HUMAN STOPPED!!!! HUMAN NEVER DOES PENIS! I MUST LICK IT NOW!" Me, "Okay - that's enough! (gross - ick!). Nighty Night sweetie! Mommy loves you!" Tate, "LOVE YOU! LOVE YOU! TREAT? MORE LIP JUICE! I WILL GET HER LIPS ONE DAY! MUST PRETEND TO SLEEP NOW! LOVE YOU! WHERE IS CAT? CAT SCARY! MUST PROTECT MY HUMANS! PUT HEAD UNDER BED! MUST PATROL! WANT MORE LIP JUICE! MUST.......ZZZZZZZZZZZ!" My Furry Tater is a beautiful boy! Tater is a smart dog - but a true ADHD/OCD border collie. I talk to my pets all day long. I suspect they just hear gobbledygoop words and intonations - but I think Tater understands my moods because if I cry or get upset about something - his reaction is to comfort me. Lot's of licks, whining and invading my personal space (lap). I also suspect that his inner monologue involves comforting me with his favorite things - ball, treat, food, herding and licking me because that's what makes him happy! Dog logic - Happy Dog! Happy Human! Why is our death Rey not working!! Our cat, Rey, is literally and figurtively, a whole other animal! She could care less if I'm sad or upset - unless it affects her needs. She is in charge! That says it all. We have never had cuddly meek tabbies. Ours seem to come with sharp claws, massive mood swings and a long list of demands. Rey has full autonomy over her realm and subjects - me, Ed, Tater, guests and any warm-blooded person or critter that invades her territory. She basically (barely) tolerates us. When I have a conversation with Rey, all I can hear in response is an aristocratic British accent - queenly in reaction and response - with barely concealed tolerance of her human domestic. I call myself her Lady-in-Waiting (slave). I fulfill all her menu needs, grooming needs and petting needs. Our routine is also set in stone and god forbid you change it or ignore (defy) her. Rey is primarily vocal with me. She has me well-trained. The minute I get up the meows (royal commands or displeasures) begin. She meows while I replenish the water bowls. She meows while I'm spooning out her morning soft food (1/2 teaspoon). She intentionally doesn't finish her seafood delight because she expects me to pick up her bowl and hold it at an angle to make it easier for her to lap up every morsel and then grunts when she's finished. She meows while she follows behind me as I walk to the laundry basin to clean her royal china (metal) bowl. She meows as she impatiently waits for me to finish my chores so she can hop into the utility tub (queenly bath) and meows for me to hurry up and position the golden spigot for her to clean her face, paws and lap water. She meows while I clean her imperial poop and pee from the majestic toilet (kitty litter). She meows when I clean up the floor of her monumental kitty litter mess (which is everywhere)! She meows when I refill her regal dry food bowl and expects a lavish massage while Her Royal Highness chows down. I have to do her first because if I pick up Tater's bowl to feed him - the meows get louder and more aggressive. When the furballs are fed - I am then expected to pick up her royal fat ass and carry her upstairs to get her morning tour of the palace (hobbit house). I then have to open up the blinds for her to peruse the royal garden (front yard). She's especially chatty in the morning, whenever she wants a good body rubdown or a treat! She's a Royal Pain in the ASS! We command you to turn on the spigot - slovenly thrall! Why are you photographing us, wench! RUB US!!! When Rey feels like being pet (massaged) - she'll enter any room I'm in and loudly flop down on the floor near me and meow once. Her "flops" make a noise (thud). She is not a "petite" cat. She sleeps alot during the day. Her preferred soft spots are the couch, big comfy chair, guest bed behind the pillows or under the duvet, upstairs on our bed under the throw, window sills behind the couch and sometimes at the top of her cat castle. Often we can't find her - so we look for bed lumps or any of her various lazing spots - but we also check inside closets because she'll sneak in just as we are closing the door. I think the longest closet visit was about 3 hours (linen closet). She doesn't meow when in a closet and I can't figure out why because she's so vocal about everything else. She doesn't meow when we are searching for her. But she's fairly pissed off when you finally open that door and runs out in a meowing huff!! She doesn't lay on top of Ed but will "spoon" with him while we watch TV - I am the pillow (saggy boobs) of choice. She will always select the one person in the room that is a tad nervous obout her seating selection. I'm much better than I used to be - but Rey loves to lie on my chest/belly with her front claws and sharp teeth at my throat! I'm not afraid that she will bite me - but deathly afraid that someone (Ed or Tate) will do something to startle her while she vaults off my chest/neck/face - with nails extended and mouth agape - meowing her displeasure primarily at the person at hand (me)! I always have alcohol in the medicine cabinet to swab my wounds. I wear nothing that I care deeply for - becuase it gets shredded! I remind Ed to make no sudden movements or make a loud noise while I'm petting her royal ass as she's comfortably ensconsed on my vulnerable body. Ed forgets every now and then!!! It hurts!! Rub my head servant!!! (I'm somewhere under that blanket!) Why are you showing us your talk box? Rub me!! The meowing occurs throughout the day depending on her needs. She meows if she hears the metal can rattle which holds her royal brush. She meows when she wants attention or needs me to decipher her needs - like looking out the office window at some trespasser (bird/squirrel/bunny/cat/dog/garbage truck) or to read her mind while I'm at the computer as she flops on the rug for her regal massage or to pet her whenever I enter the room she currently occupies, etc. Anytime I need to go to the bathroom - Rey is already there sitting on the tub bench. It's like she reads my mind (bladder). I must pet her while seated - which can be challenging since she likes to sit just out of my perched reach! Then she hops back up on the tub bench with her back to me - waiting for her maid servant (slave) to gently lean over to give Her Majesty a hug! Strangely, she doesn't meow very often when she wants a treat that is located in the kitchen. Instead, while I'm prepping lunch or dinner, I'll feel a creepy itch between my shoulder blades as if some imposing presence is watching me, and I'll turn to see her sitting in her 'treat" spot (between the fridge and pie shelf in the corner) while glaring at me with a twitching tail. If I don't stop immediately and get her a treat - I will pay for it later. When I open a can of tuna in the kitchen - her noble nose smells it from upstairs and charges down meowing. She assumes it's been opened for her - so I have to listen to her rage until I can empty the contents and set down the tin for her to lick the remnants. My imperial cat is much loved and much feared. Of course, Ed is her consort and allowed all the lordly privileges. I serve a unique (indentured) purpose and tolerated - but much missed whenever I'm away from home - because her consort (lover) doesn't pamper Her Royal F**king Highness like I do!! She finally stops scream-eowing when the tuna tin is placed on her royal paper towel (linen)! Just a few of Rey's endearing (pain in the ass) qualities. This is a typical conversation with Rey: A. Morning Royal Breakfast/Routine: It takes me a little while to fully wake up in the morning. I like quiet and tend to slowly emerge from sleep - to gently start a new day - and beeline it to the kitchen for my iced coffee! Rey doesn't give a rat's ass and is impatiently waiting for her morning victuals to be prepared by her minion (me). Me (heading for the kitchen first to prep my vat of coffee), "Mmmmmm....coffee!" Rey (waiting in the bathroom but pissed that she has to follow me into the kitchen), "Me-ow! Meow!! MEOW! MEOW! MEEEOOOW!!!!!" Me (making coffee for Ed and gulping down my iced coffee - fully aware that Her Highness would like me to wait on her first), "Gotta make the coffee for Ed. Gotta wake up Rey. Stop hovering. I know! I know! I'll get to you shortly, bitch (muttered under my breath)." Rey (obviously glaring at me with tail twitching - shocked at my insubordination), "Meow! ME@*#%OW!! We Are Not Amused! We'll be waiting on our throne in the toilet! If you are NOT in our presence by the count of 10 - OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!" While water is heating up in the kettle - I drink my much needed and loved iced coffee while checking out what horrific, demented Trump news happened overnight on my phone - knowing that Rey is pissed off - but I don't care because America is being shredded for his personal gain. Once Ed's coffee is made - I grab HRH's cat food from the fridge and announce my descent to the basement. She initially acts disinterested but her royal belly has a mind of its own! She comes screaming (meowing) downstairs and doesn't shut up for the next half hour! Me (refilling water bowls, collecting her cat bowl and spoon, feeding her the morning soft food - 1/2 teaspoon of royal fish of the day (cat food) while she keeps getting in my way so I can't feed her - trying to eat out of the can because she's so impatient - with her ASS in my face), "Okay! Okay! Get your ass out of my face! Stop meowing! I'm doing everything as fast as I can you pain in the......! Here's your food your royal heinie!!" Rey (meowing like she hasn't eaten in a week), "Meooooow!!!! Hurry up, you stupid wench! Why did you make us wait? We are faint from hunger!!! WE HATE YOU! YOU ARE DISMISSED! NO, WAIT!! We will forgive you this one time if you hurry up! One can't find good help these days! Me-Ow - We want our foo.......mmmmmrrrryumaaaarrgghmmm!" Me (cleaning up as she attacks the bowl - seafood flying), "Slow down Rey! OMG! Get it in your mouth! Here, let me lift your bowl before you spill it everywhere!" Rey (in a trance of gluttony and zero decorum), "Mmmmyyyyuuuurmrrraaaahhhrrrgg! YES! LIFT MY ROYAL BOWL SO WE DON'T MISS ONE DROP OF OUR MORNING REPAST!! HURRY UP HUMAN CHATTEL!!" Me (slightly disgusted by her grunting and raspy licking - holding the bowl with my fingers a little to close to her razor sharp teeth), "Okay, I'll turn the bowl so it's easier to get that bite! You missed one! God you made a mess! Don't bite my finger!!! There you're done!" Rey (dizzy from her frenetic consumption - but ready to make more demands), "BURP!! Tuna with a shrimp sauce! Delightful!! Burp! Now we are thirsty! Carry us lackey to the royal tub! WHAT!! MY THRALL LEFT US! She will pay for this insubordination! We are going to have words with her!!!!" Me (cleaning her bowl and spoon quickly because I know she is right behind me), "Here you go, Rey!" Rey (Rey jumps in meowing - while I turn on the water faucet), "We are not amused! We will discuss this when..........slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp!!" Me (already on to the kitty litter - emptying her poop/pee and sweeping up the floor), "Wow, Rey! How can so much poop and pee come out of one cat overnight! This is disgusting! You got kitty litter everywhere!!" Rey (sated but looking forward to her second course of salmon kibble - she sees me on the floor sweeping up her nightly toilet adventures), "What are you doing down there handmaid? Our second breakfast is not refilled!! Sigh! Do we have to do everything!! Unlock that cabinet and we'll get it ourselves!! This is unacceptable!! Clean that later foolish drudge!! What do you expect - it was dark!!!!" Me (I finally finish cleaning up her mess and unlock the cabinet to get her kibble), "Okay Rey, here's a refill. No, don't jump up in there! I can't believe you ate most of that bowl of food. You are getting a little chubby Rey! Maybe you need to go on a diet!" Rey (trying to get in the cabinet to tear open her bag of royal kibble), "Out of our way girl!! Oof! How DARE you close that door and touch the royal we!! You have overstepped one time too many lackey!! We are calling our Royal Consort to.................ooooohhhhhhhkibbleyumyumyumyumunchmunchmmmm!" Me (petting Rey for a couple minutes while she crunches away - cleaning up some more and prepping Tater's simple bowl of dog kibble - no muss and no fuss), "Okay, Rey. It's Tater's turn. Why are you mewoing at me? No, I'm not picking you up! My hands are full. Oh, for god's sake, come here!" Rey (at my feet meowing insistently), "Put down that dog bowl and pick up Her Royal HIghness right now or I'll call my guard!!!! We have not completed the morning constitutional yet! Pick us up gently and proceed with our grand tour of the palace and grounds! We shouldn't have to remind you, servant!" Me (picking up Rey - which is not as easy as it sounds - while putting down everything else - I carry her upstairs and we walk through the main floor rooms before depositing her in the office so she can look out the windows at the front yard), "Here we go! Look at the fan! See, that's you in the mirror! Aren't you pretty! Okay, let's go to the office and you can oversee the front yard activity!" Rey (sighing, but loving the tour of her domain, she is sonewhat satisfied with her morning thus far), "We are waving and acknowleging our royal subjects and realm. I see our royal consort is busy tending our gardens. We are pleased with him! I'm not done with my tour yet, girl! Oof! She threw us on the couch like a sack of potatoes!! How DARE she!!! OOOOHHHHH........the drapes (shades) have been opened for me to peruse the palace entrance and wave at our adoring citizens. Our radiance has intoxicated them!! Aaaaaaahhhhhh...we are very pleased! Now we are sleepy and need a nap!" B. Brushing Rey: The minute I open the tin can in the kitchen - Rey comes stampeding into the living room scream-eowing - knowing that it is time for her favorite activity (other than eating) - being brushed! Me (holding the instrument of joy in my hand), "Look Rey! You want me to brush you?" Rey (frantically running back and forth from me to the couch - while never taking her eyes off the brush), "MEOW! MEOW! OUR BRUSH! WE LOVE THAT BRUSH! MEOW! MEOW! HURRY UP YOU COW! SORRY, SORRY! WE ARE SO HAPPY! WE LOVE THE BRUSHING OF THE ROYAL WE!!!!!" Me (sitting on the couch in a specific spot to brush Rey), "Calm down! Stop moving! There. Doesn't that feel good? You love it when I brush your head and jowls! I love it when you purr! Wow! There is a lot of hair Rey! Stop moving! Come back here!" Rey (wiggling with excitement and in heaven when I brush the top of her head and especially her pheromone laden jowls), "Puuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrr! We looooooovvve brushing! We.....aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.....oooooohhhhhhh.......love....puuuurrrrrrrrrr! (drool) More on our royal cheeks! More, handmaid!!!!" Me (trying to brush her as she keeps turning her ass to my face), "Get your ass out of my face, Rey! I can't reach your head!" Rey (with her ass in my face), "We are showing you our royal appreciation for your service by presenting the royal ass to be admired and licked! This is a grave honor to be bestowed on my Lady-in-Waiting! Kiss it! KISS IT!!!" Me (cleaning the brush and getting up to put it away and clean up all the hair on the couch), "Okay, Rey! All beautiful! We're done!" Rey (stunned but resigned), "What!! No kiss? No more brushing? One cannot find good help these days! We are not amused! Now we are sleep........zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" C. Watching TV: When Ed and I watch TV in the evening - it's inevitable that Rey will make her way over and on to my chest. No matter what my body language or what pretzel position I've twisted myself into - she will cram that hefty load on top of me. She lounges next to Ed (lover) but insists on over-powering me. If I have my legs up on the couch in front of me - her royal dominance ends up wedging herself between my legs and chest - forcing me to lower my legs to the coffee table so she can sprawl from my chin to my knees comfortably. With claws at my throat and sharp teeth too near my mouth - she settles in for the remainder of TV time! I love Rey and love the attention - but her unpredictable (volatile) nature can be intimidating! Me (knees up to my chin with no room for a corpulant cat), "No Rey! There's no room. Not tonight!" Rey (initially wide-eyed and adorable), "Meow!" Me (starting to crack), "No, Rey!" Rey (eyes turning into slits of fury), "ME-OW!!" Rey then jumps up and wedges herself in the non-existent space between my legs and the couch pillow while staring at me and then my lap - strategizing her next move. Gently putting her paw on my leg - sans claws - to coerce me into lowering my offending legs. Rey (looking innocently at my chest), "Meow.....we love our human chest. Please lower your knees, handmaid, so we may laze on your person and purr." Me (I cave to her sweet and vulnerable pleas and begin to adjust my legs to accommodate her plumpness), "Okay - here you go! (sigh)" Rey (slowly and smugly moving into her favorite position - kneading my boobs and belly to settle down - with her head up to my chin and curled up body extending to my thighs), "We are enjoying our royal pillow! You may massage (pet) our crown (head) with gentle strokes to soothe our exhausting day ruling the palace. Aaaahhhhh.........puuuuurrrrrr....we are pleased, so far! Do not move!" Me (trying to carefully remove her paw from my left boob - because she has her claws partially extended in her rapture), "Ow...owie...that hurts Rey! Don't move Rey - I'm just adjusting your claws from my titty! Ouch! Don't glare at me - it hurst! Don't you dare bite me!!!" Rey (not happy with my touching her paw), "Unhand us, you peon!! We were so comfortable!! You should be elated at our divine attention!!" Me (giving up and ignoring the pain - petting her head and on alert for any sudden moves that might disrupt the calm - watching TV), "There Rey - feel good? Just relax." Rey (purring and thoroughly enjoying the rubdown - until Ed (her consort) makes a startled noise - because we are watching a scary movie - which also shocks Tater into action from his sleeping position under my feet - and all hell breaks loose), Me yelling, "WHA.......THE......FU......!!!!!!!" Me (screaming - Rey hurdles her body off my chest while also detaching her fully extended claws), "OOOFFFFF!!! OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW.....that f**king hurt!!! Ed, WTF!!!!! Tater calm down!! OMG....don't do that when she's on my f**king chest!! Gotta go see if I'm bleeding!!! F**K!!!" Rey (surly and annoyed, but pretending she did absolutely nothing wrong - she begins licking her paws and fur to absolve herself from any harmful responsibility), "That was disturbing to our royal senses! Our handmaid is making such a fuss! So unbecoming of my entourage! We are not amused and perturbed by this caterwauling display. We are retiring for the evening. Where has our squawking handmaid gone to....(sigh).......we can be found on our duvet in the royal bedchamber. Consort! Send in my servant when she has cleaned herself up and calmed herself. Our bed must be turned down!! Consort! Throw the varmint (Tate) into the dungeon! This was all his fault! He must learn manners befitting of a royal pet!" I honestly have entire conversations and imaginary reactions to our mundane daily routines. It makes life so much more interesting giving our pets over-the-top human personalities. I believe they understand me and would enjoy it even more if it were cosplay!! Dressing Rey up in royal garb and Tater as the court jester would be hilarious!!! The only picture of sibling cuddling! I cherish this photo!! They deny it ever happened! I know too many people who talk to their pets and treat their pets like they are human. It's okay and makes them part of the family. I don't know what we would do without our beautiful and loving furballs. Conversations with my furry children makes my day complete. Their unconditional love and trust is a balm to my soul. We are hoping to add another one soon. We have contacted the Mid-Atlantic Border Collie Rescue for a loving partner for Tater and ourselves. Rey is on the fence with this one - but will have an additional furball to rule!! Please check out my Positive Pause Podcast with Claire Gill, Founder of the National Menopause Foundation . Claire is my Superhero! Please check out their website for a wealth of information on everything menopause, women, sex and growing older. I am eternally grateful for this opportunity to share my own personal journey on the Positive Pause Podcast (#32) !! https://nationalmenopausefoundation.org/podcast-2/ My two youngest Menopause fans! Because I gave them a fan!! Book signing at Found Studio Shop!! I also just did a book signing/selling last Saturday, May 3rd, for the Mother's Day/Spring Shoppers. Kacey Stafford, owner of Found Studio Shop , in Lauraville at 4315 Harford Road, Baltimore, MD 21214, is not only an artist but also a patron of the local artists/creatives. I had so much fun talking about menopause and hawking my book upstairs to anyone who has a pulse. I sold some books and met some lovely new people. Some of my neighbors came to support me - which made my day PERFECT!! Kellie Martin, founder of Earth Elements Soapworks , was selling her spectacular plant-based skin care products and demonstrating the quality, offering massages to all attendees. Found Studio is a neighborhood gem and a must-visit. Lot's a laughs!! I am so grateful!! Can't wait for my next book event!!! What a perfect day!! If anyone would like to share their foible(s) or aging stories or conversations with your furry children - we could commiserate on our peculiarities and frustrations - with an open forum of like-minded challenged adults. No shameing on this blog!! If you want even more info on life, menopause, aging and other fun observations – not only check out my book but I have 43 more blogs that go into all sorts of funny and informative crap about being a woman of many years, experiences and observations . My doctor appointment  and middle child blogs are a hoot!! It’s better to educate with honesty, horror, humility and humor than remain silent .  There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please help spread the word that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your pet-owner friends, family, superheroes and SM followers.   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

Hair today, gone tomorrow! Countries have gone to war over “Hair!” (I just made this up – but I bet some man in power has made some catastrophic decisions because he was having a “Bad Hair Day!”) The 80s want their hair back!! My book, Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All!!! Is launching in a week – November 21, 2023. I’m so excited and nervous about my menopausal and aging journey being available to the world. Spewing my guts and messy existence for all to see. I hope that it brings solace and laughter to many – then it would be worth it!! BTW - there is a chapter on HAIR!! So, I decided to write a blog about “Hair” to get my mind off the upcoming event. I think I can safely say that the mythical magical body of “Hair" on any woman’s (or man’s) head has held significant value in our psyche since the beginning of time. It’s symbolic to our heritage. Hair shapes our identity. We have examples in the bible, lore and fairy tales - Samson, Medusa, Rapunzel - that focuses on the power and significance of hair. Hair controls our every mood. Hence, the expression, “I’m having a bad-hair day!” – which translates to, “I’m not beautiful today and really f**king cranky! Piss off!!” When you wake up in the morning, you have “bed-head”. When you prepare your hair for the day, it can be, “I can’t do anything with my hair!” Your hair can be, “Hair-larious” one day and “Hair-endous” the next. Hair can determine your mood for the entire day. It can make you feel empowered, depressed, angry, humiliated, sexy, elegant, insane, silly – the emotion-list goes on and on. You can have it shaped into a variety of styles or trending fashions. You can have it long, short, straight, curly, shaved. The list, once again, is endless and money spent over your lifetime can be a Hair-raising experience! For example – if you have short hair - like me - you typically see your hair stylist once a month. If you go to a salon that has a good reputation, then you spend between $50 - $100 (including tip) per visit. If you decide to chemically enhance your hair – like hair coloring, relaxers or extensions, etc. – then that doubles your monthly expense. If you’ve maintained this for your entire adult life – it could add up to the equivalent of buying a luxury car (least hair cost) or a nice house (all the bells and whistles hair cost) - depending on what you had done and not including all the hair products purchased to enhance your particular style. Just do the math and you will be SHOCKED! Better yet – don’t do the math. I did not disclose this Hair-xercise to my husband – who gets his hair cut about once every 2 months - at a hip barber shop - for around $25-30 total - and uses no hair products. Hair was vitally important throughout my adolescence and teens whether I knew it or not. It took on a whole new (expensive) meaning as I reached adulthood. (I also need to include a side note on glasses because I started wearing them at 2 ½ years old. Like hair, glasses are part of your identity.) You’ll see some of my stages - from 1958 through today - of the various style choices – either made for me or by me. Baby Colleen circa 1958. Angelic hair phase. Also hand painted photo! A lot had to do with whatever my big sister was sporting at the time. She absolutely held sway over me – but I occasionally rebelled against my sycophantic personality and made some “bold” choices all on my own!! As I go through my photo albums (for those of you under the age of 45 – a photo album is a stone age vessel for photographs) - I am somewhat horrified because those “bold” choices weren’t always the best choices! A lot of us were held hostage by societies judgement of what hairstyle was in fashion – depending on the decade and where you lived. Growing up in Northern Maine had its fashion challenges and limitations. My mother was an avid reader and wanted to instill that same passion in her children. I remember my mom testing different books/genres on me – encouraging me to read and escape life for a while (like she did). She hit the jackpot on “Romance Novels” of which she had plenty. I read a Rosemary Rogers romance and was hooked!!! I can’t remember exactly how old I was but enough to be titillated by these tales of seduction (underdog beauty “hits” that jackpot hunk). I spent an entire summer locked in my room reading a book a day until I was sated (in every sense of the word – if you catch my drift). From there I moved on to other genres and the rest is history. I’m a book-reading fanatic!!! I tried writing a romance novel a couple times. My heroine/protagonist always had short hair, somewhat attractive, cutting wit, spunky and an attitude. Unlike the romance novels I read as a child. Heroines of yore were slim but had ample breasts, crystalline green eyes, rose-petal lips, and long, thick, lustrous, wavy RED HAIR. Oh, and they smelled and tasted delicious no matter what era! In other words – unrealistically gorgeous and super smart! I never finished my romance novels and instead chose to write about my Menopausal Journey – not the exotic tale or locale I originally had in mind – but a journey, nonetheless. Instead of long lustrous red hair that flowed and seduced like it had a mind of its own – I wrote about hair that is thinning, dry and dull of finish. Reality can be just as fascinating as fiction!! In my formative years I was a “towhead” – meaning I had white-blonde hair. I remained a towhead for several years. A lot of (jealous) kids accused me/my mom of dyeing my hair. Kids can be mean and obviously not very bright. My hair got more golden in adulthood. Around my mid-30’s (after my much-anticipated divorce) I decided to go rogue and dyed my hair strawberry blonde. Las Vegas Wedding!! Best EVER!!! This has always been a favorite hair style and color-job. Eventually one of my split personalities took over and changed it because I was too content. My first known “Hair” experience was quite early in life. As a toddler I had soft, white, curly baby hair – most parents just let nature do their thing. Mine was free to explore until the infamous bubble-gum trip to Texas – visiting our southern family (Dad’s sister, husband and four kids). We all hopped into our VW Bus – five kids and two adults. No seatbelts, a long-cramped drive, a hot summer – which got hotter as we approached Texas – and lots of snacks. I was quite young and my memory is spotty of that trip – but I do remember chewing Bazooka Bubblegum. Practicing my bubble-blowing skills while sticking my head out the bus window is one of those memories. Bubble x wind velocity = face and hair engulfed in a pink cloud of sticky gum. It remained on my face and in my hair for many, many miles. Ice got the gum off my face – but scissors took care of the hair. It was the end of my beautiful baby hair and my innocence!! Moms can be downright brutal! So, let’s go down memory-lane (before there is none) of my many hairstyles over the past 65 years. Below is a description of each hair cut – snazzy and cringe-worthy: 1. Bowl-Cut (2 – 6 yrs.) – Mom was the stylist. She had one haircut in her portfolio. Grab a Hair by Mom! Bowl-cut was a very efficient style. bowl and blunt scissors, put it on child’s head, cut around bowl edge – done! She had a small bowl for bangs and a larger bowl for the rest. My sister was the only one in our family who understood the cruelty of the bowl-cut - and to this day – holds a grudge. I was content with this style, since my sister had it. I thought I was cool. Mom was having a bad (hair) day when she did this Bowl-cut! 2. Bowl-Cut grown out with a little more style – Modified Bow-cut! I allowed this sub-par Mom-Cut for many years. I blame my lack of exposure for this on-going abuse. I believe around 4th or 5th grade is when I started reading my sister’s fashion magazines and realized I was a girl. I thought I was John Wayne for a few years! I said goodbye to my toy guns and holster and started paying some attention to my outward appearance. 3. Twiggy Cut (5th grade) – I became obsessed with the famous 60s model – Twiggy . Famous British Model from the 60's - Twiggy!! I didn’t stop at the hairstyle she created but also her body shape and clothes. It was so effing Mod!! This also started my fascination with anything British! I demanded my mom make me this 60s dress and even made a bold eye-frames choice. I discarded the traditional Cat-Eye frames for 60s chic! In my mind, Twiggy and I were twins. Uncanny resemblance!! I may have affected a British accent during this period – at least in private (or not?). I had a vivid imagination. I may have sent her a fan letter (for those of you under the age of 45 – a fan letter was actually written with a pen and paper – then mailed at a post office). FYI, Twiggy never wanted that haircut !! Uncanny resemblance!! Twiggy was my idol!! Twiggy Vogue Article Image. 4. Long Hair Phase (6th – 9th grade) – Somehow, I grew my hair to shoulder length in one year – and past my boobs and to my bottom by year 3. I could never do that at my current age!! I bowed to the masses and kept it long and straight – for the most part. Around the time I was taking piano lessons and doing recitals – I added some elegance by sporting ringlets. Braids and pigtails occurred when I hadn’t shampooed for a couple weeks. More Class Pictures of the ever-evolving Colleen McIntosh! Barrettes were also a fav accessory. But the late 60s into early 70s center hair-part was the norm and I lowered my standards to abide by my peers’ rules of hair etiquette. I also found out that boys liked long hair. Looks like a mug shot for a ringlet heist!! FYI - Ringlets take a long time to manufacture. Back in the sepia days - we wore painful barbed-wire hair rollers - often overnight while crying in our sleep. You could also dry them by putting on a huge plastic cap that got attached to a hose and dryer. Hot air was pumped into your "cap" and you sat for an hour while it dried - sweating and bored!! Then Mom would yank out the barbed-wire rollers and she would form the ringlets and shellac the hell out of your hair so it did not lose its curl. Bad for the environment, your health and your pride. Don't get me wrong - I asked for these effing ringlets!! 5. Bowl-Cut – full circle (10th – 12th grade) – I lost my f**king mind and apparently was androgynous for a couple years and paid to have my hair look this way. High School pictures were traumatizing. Never wear a printed fabric! To add insult to injury, I added huge aviator glasses to complete the look! How to lean against a tree and look like this is normal! I really hope they’ve gotten more inventive with school pictures. The "fake trees" backdrop and props were the poor-man's CGI in the 70's. Also, leaning against a tree for some bizarre reason was the go-to "Senior picture trend" of that decade. I have no clue what the subliminal message trees conveyed. BTW – I think the 70s were the absolute WORST in hair and fashion. 6. Perms, Perms & More Perms – These began in my late teens/20’s/early 30’s. You saw the perm image at the beginning of this blog. That was actually one of my earlier acting headshots and my perm was "Hair-normous!!" The 80s were a decade of bad hair styles. I periodically hacked it off but would inevitably grow it out for more Perms!!! I even had a sort-of Afro for an acting role in the musical Hair. I consider this my “In-Poor-Taste” hairstyle. It was actually a perm gone wrong but the casting directing loved it? 7. Short (Sigh of happiness and the best salon/haircut EVER!! ) – During my role as Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors, I went really short. We were performing in Tokyo and I popped into a hair salon one day and magic happened. I have NEVER had a hair shampoo like the one they did and never will again. I was laid on a comfortable table and someone held my head over the sink while someone else slowly shampooed and massaged. I think I fell asleep. Then it took them over an hour to discuss and cut my hair. Then another hour to consult and tweak what they did. Then a half hour to style it. I was there all afternoon and didn’t want to leave. No one spoke English and I have never been happier. I paid a ransom sum to exit the salon – with no regrets!!! Lots of bowing at the end of that dreamy master class in hair sculpting! Sadly, I wore a lot of hats back then and don't have a good picture of this haircut. Apparently, I only saved the bad pictures. 8. Long again - Damn-it! - During my first marriage (early 30s), I regrew my hair and did a more expensive Perm – so it didn’t look Permed. I also lost my mind for 5 years! I refuse to put any pictures here even though it was the best perms I'd ever had. (One day I’ll blog about those lost years – but not today!) BTW - the definition of insanity is: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. 9. Short forever until I die but with Color! – Once I walked out of that “joke of a union” – I cut it short and have never looked back. In my mid-30s I decided I not only needed to relocate but also change my identity for fear of being hunted down due to my witness protection program. Just kidding – sort of. Divorce final and searching for my real identity again – I moved to Baltimore and found my new hair salon. I needed something different – so I chose to add color to my new spiky haircuts like my wedding picture. I maintained color and short hair until COVID! I started life with white hair and then in my 40s – 50s I decided that platinum blonde was my new favorite hair color. I basically went full circle! My favorite hair color - white with roots showing!! Oddly, I wished I had hair color that a lot of mature women have – like my mom. She went white/gray early and colored it to hide it. In her 80s she finally succumbed to nature and it looks fantastic!! My sister went gray with black streaks around 65 (during COVID) and it also looks effing great! They were both brunettes. Why did I spend a small fortune on dying my hair white? I even tried silver gray to see how I’d look as an older woman. A lot of people thought these dye-jobs were my actual hair color. I’m assuming because I already looked “older!” Anyway, I can’t wait to turn gray because I think it’s so cool! Dyed my hair Platinum/White for years – only to let it grow out so I could have dark roots. I LOVED showing my roots and I had this look until COVID. Being quarantined made the decision to end the brain altering hair coloring fairly easy. I had no choice. Doing it myself was not an option. I didn’t get a haircut for a long time and as my last dye-job grew out – I discovered my real hair color. Keep in mind that I hadn’t seen my real color since my late 30s. It was a much darker blonde – more ash blonde with some red highlights here and there. I named the color, “COVID muddy-ash or wet straw.” I’m praying for gray hair now. I just want it to make up its mind! It’s not blonde and it’s not gray. Most women think I’m insane for wishing it gray (or better yet - white). People don’t realize what hair dye does to your hair. It gives it body and thickens fine hair (which I have). So, I could do spiky short cuts and it would behave and bend to my will. That no longer applies to my thinning, dull and lifeless hair. Recently, while attempting a different short style – my sassy hairdresser pointed out my “receding hair line!” I was speechless until I screamed. I said, “Are you saying I’m going bald!!!” Poor thing didn’t know how to spin this – so he tried to help by pointing out his receding hair line. He went on to talk about using Rogaine but to be careful because hair grows in the oddest places – like wrists!!! I’m now obsessed with my hairline and attempting to grow my bangs longer to cover up this flaw. I am fast approaching the dreaded, “Comb Over!” It's just another embarrassing age-related degradation some of must endure. I have a hair appointment tomorrow and may ask for it to be shaved off. I can cut costs by going to Ed's barber shop as well!! Hair is a major topic of concern and consideration as you age. Once you lose your estrogen and progesterone, the hair on your body decides it's time for a change of scenery and relocate its little follicle-ass to a new venue. Some of them want a pent-house view (eyebrows) and some want warmer climes (pubes). Some want a more wet and humid atmosphere (nose) and others like balconies (upper lip). Then there are some that freak out and hide in a bunker (ass). There are the crazy ones who like to live dangerously and dangle off your chin! As I say in my book, "Grooming takes on a whole new meaning." Speaking of “Hair today, gone tomorrow.” My book has a whole chapter dedicated to HAIR. I think it’s one of the funniest. Apparently, I've turned into a Man! This chapter has NOTHING to do with fashion but real estate! Did you know that hair is sentient? Here’s a sample of Hair having a conscience: Legs and Armpits —Oh, don’t think I forgot about these! Upside is I have almost no hair on my legs or armpits anymore. Fantastic!!! However, my theory is that they conspired and decided to migrate north for the summer and decided to stay. I believe that explains all the additional hair in my asshole, pubes, face and nose!!! As we all know – Hair is not just located on the top of your head. So, in my book, I cover full body hair issues that occur once you hit menopause and beyond. Somebody recently told me that there was a dearth of women's chronological menopause books out there - but I guarantee you that mine is a totally different tale of horror, humility and humor! And I bet they didn't include illustrations!!! Edgar Allan Poe should have written a horror story about it - "The Tell-Tale Hair." Please don't make me "Temporarily Out of Stock" and purchase my book during the pre-sale on Amazon or Barnes & Noble . It's also available at many other book retailers. Consider it as a memorable holiday gift. November 21 is coming up fast!! How can you say no to this face!!! Give me this day, my Daily Beg! Help an old(er) lady out and help me promote my book!! Help me become relevant! Share with your Friends, Family and even total Strangers! I recommend you purchase the soft cover book for the preferred reading experience! I have pages at the end of the book for you to add your own menopausal journey! Click the links on my book page . I really hope you’ll sign up and become a part of my community. I would love to hear your stories, without any editing, please. I can handle anything! Thanks for taking the time to read my blog! Let’s be Friends!!! Colleen McIntosh

I took their instructions too literally for Freshman Initiation! Mrs. Clarice Clowater came late to us – but she had perfect timing. We were not a class that denoted favoritism from any teacher in high school – until she arrived. She started teaching later in life and lived quite a distance from our district. When she arrived, we all felt a sense of belonging. She loved and nurtured us and cheered us on when we found our passion. We all loved and admired her unique style, enthusiasm, strength, patience, class and devotion for teaching.  Personally, Clarice was my mentor and followed my life beyond the halls of Washburn District High School. She inspired me and encouraged me to follow my dreams of acting. I liked and loved her in equal measure and will never forget her. Clarice Clowater, may she rest forever in Peace! I love you! We dedicated our Senior Yearbook to Clarice and above is our dedication image! Yearbook picture - Class of '76 - breaking and entering! My glass isn’t half full or half empty – mine has a leak!  That pretty much encapsulates what being a Middle Child (MC) encounters with each life lesson. We just keep filling up the cup!   This blog will embrace the High School years – periods, boobs, boys, acting and more than you’ll ever care to know about me and my Middle Child conceits (delusion not vanity) and concerns.    We’ll begin with Periods!! Chapter 1 of my book –  Menopause the Horror, Humility and Humor of It All!   Yes—“periods” should have a fucking exclamation point after it. We are cursed with periods twice! Getting them and losing them! Most of the women I know—myself included—couldn’t wait to get their period. The early bloomers gloated and smugly complained loudly about their initiation into womanhood. We all envied and hated them—but couldn’t wait to join the Menses Club. I was in my early teens when I started my first blood bath. It was a Saturday morning watching cartoons in my jammies. I was cramped and confused. I had soiled my panties with some thick mass of coagulated bloody liquid and eventually realized I had finally blossomed. Ignoring the cramps and disgusting mess—I did a little toilet jig of pride. I shoved a wad of toilet paper in my soiled panties and scavenged through the bathroom cabinet for the menstruation kit. Being a somewhat oblivious child-woman—I realized I had no idea what this “Kit” was. This illustration says it all! So, I bellowed for my mom. She wasn’t as thrilled at my admission into this secret society of, “Now I can get pregnant club.” So, she handed me the biggest cotton ball I’ve ever seen (called a pad) and an old stretched out elastic waistband/belt contraption with “hooks and eyes” (menstrual belt). I was mildly appalled at this well-worn garment and massive absorbent pad. Mom did not instruct me on how to use these devices—but left me in the bathroom to figure it all out on my own. I love my mom—but I was a bit disappointed in her lack of feminine compassion. Needless to say—I eventually got all hooked up—but felt like I had a pillow in my panties and that this was somehow normal? The beginning of womanhood Is a whole other book. I started menopause early—around 40. My period dwindled to a periodic (surprise) trickle. It ended with something from a zombie movie prop department. Doctors refer to them as “clots.” Sounds like a cute pair of Dutch shoes. If you weren’t expecting it—the clots were disturbing, to say the least. After the final death throes of your youth, you are mockingly left with about 4 boxes of tampons to remind you of the descent into “Old Age.” Bye, Bye, Aunt Flo!!! Anyway, I think youth is passé! BTW—I periodically got ghost cramps just for the hell of it! As you can see from the excerpt above – I had limited access to menstruation information - because in that time “period” – women and girls did not discuss this common denominator that half the world shared!    As a late bloomer – the girls in my class were not helpful before or after when I finally became a “woman” in the eyes of the world. I find it ridiculous that getting one’s period signifies (ironically) maturity. Just my ovaries were mature – I was not! Periods carry a heavy burden for a teenager. Periods (like - The Menopause) were not a topic of conversation other than to gloat that you were a ripe cherry for pluckimg. Of course, most of us didn’t even know what that meant and couldn’t understand why they referred to periods and teenage girls as fruit?   I don’t know why I was so impatient to have monthly agonizing cramps, a deluge of blood, uncomfortable pads/tampons, mood swings, teen acne outbreaks, weight gain, etc. etc. – Aunt Flo(w) was a B**ch! I had it every month for the next 27 years – until I stopped laying eggs and was abandoned by Flo - only to replace it with The Menopause!!! In fact, Periods and Menopause have a lot in common – even in the absence of vital female biological and reproductive prerequisites (all listed in my book): A. Bleeding vs. not Bleeding  – To Bleed or Not to Bleed - equally uncomfortable question and life changing. Either way – for me – both periods and menopause were unpleasant and an ill-conceived design plan for womankind! B. Mood Swings  – They never end – you (I) start out with puberty mood swings during your period every month and then they evolve into change of life mood swings daily when you hit menopause – which over-stay their welcome for years to come – WTF!  C. Sleeplessness  – For me that ongoing issue only got exacerbated during periods. Menopause was the proverbial straw (bale) that broke that poor old camel’s back and my REM cycle. D. Hormones vs. Crickets  – Raging uncontrollable hormones are incinerated to a chorus of crickets intoning and mocking the death of your youth! E. Weight gain  – The couple times in my life that I put on pounds quickly - was getting my period and in full-blown menopause – life can be so cruel! F. Depression  – In my case – despair was always hovering and whispering in my ear – but was embraced with fervor during periods and menopause! Wallowing was my favorite pastime. Similarities not listed in my book –  Menopause the Horror, Humility and Humor of It All!  – but should have been! G. Acne  - Periods caused pimple outbreaks that took the rest of the month to clear up – a “viscous” cycle – while menopause and aging has turned me into a teenager again on a slightly drier and wrinkly scale but nonetheless embarrassing. I have benzoyl peroxide (pimple cream) in my bathroom medicine cabinet! H. Sugar-Craving  – During my periods I always craved sugar and with menopause (which never ends until my cremation) I crave sugar 24/7. My cupboard looks like a shelf at Trader Joe’s. A variety of milk and dark chocolate blended with assorted nuts. I have a 2-piece daily edict – sugar mandate - but with strict guidelines (or the adult acne would be worse).   The slap in the face moment for me was during the height of my Menopausal hubris. I foolishly believed that losing my period, hot flashes and mood swings were going to be the worst of my declining youth. I begrudgingly accepted the negative properties of having periods but garnered none of the positive hallmarks of having them – like a sex drive, supple taut skin, shiny lustrous hair, perky boobs, functional memory, surplus of hormones, etc. etc. But periods and menopause are obviously shackled together in a loveless marriage – till death do us part, Beeyatch!! I thought this was a very astute observation, however, I’m sure someone has already “astuted” the s**t out of this analogy!   I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “Women are the strongest of our species!!” But teenagers don’t know anything beyond the moment and their pimply nose. Getting my period was a dream (ultimate nightmare) come true. I was finally part of the herd – I mean club.    My next life shattering concern was my boobs. Boobs, boobies, titties, melons, breasts, udders, bosoms, knockers, hooters – you catch my drift. Now I feel an uncontrollable urge to name all the slang words for penises. Here we go! Never mind – who cares! My mother Tubby confused Toddler! told me recently that I came home from school one day – crying – that all the girls in my class had boobs – except me! It’s hilarious what we focus on as teens. Ironically, when I finally got those precious orbs, I also got chubby. I was plump all over – not just my chest. It was the first time since I was a tubby toddler that I started to focus on my weight. Of course, as an infant/toddler all I wanted was food, sleep, clean diapers and lots of attention. As a blossoming teen – I wanted those titties with a demonic passion – but the extra pounds pissed me off and were Karma's way of teaching me a Four boys and my sister Bridget! lesson – Careful What You Wish For! Yet another concern to add to my ever-expanding list of complaints, fears and torments. I also needed a whole new wardrobe. I ultimately gave up and chose to look like a boy by my junior year. If you can’t beat the weight into submission, then join the boys club of “Who gives a F**k! I'm a boy - therefore it doesn't matter what I look like because I'm male and the superior race." Anyway, I’ll never forget my first summer with breasts. (Sorry no pix of my fabulous Ta Ta's) I needed a new bathing suit for the Washburn swimming hole – because my young boy swimsuit no longer contained my burgeoning boobs. It felt like I was learning to walk all over again – with my boobies leading the way (like divining rods). I remember being made fun of by some of my male classmates. I didn’t know whether to be proud or mortified. But I’ll never forget my first experience as a woman/child – realizing the impact these mysterious magnetic spheres had over boys/mankind. I remember heading for the diving board area, where all the older teens hung out. I loved swimming and diving off the high-board – so I thrust out my chest and waddled my way over to risk my life and seize the day – upper classmen be damned! I got a favorable reception! One of my sister’s classmates (3 years older) who was a known “lothario” approached me with a quizzical look and said, “You’re Bridget’s sister, right?” I was shocked and a little frightened by his attention and replied, “Yes.” His faced melted into a come-hither leer and purred, “Well, you’ve grown up!” I realized that he was directing this comment to my chest and that these brand-new inflated augmentations held great power! I was still a child and had no idea how to monetize these babies yet – but I had a new mission in life.  Tinder in the 70's! I just put a flyer around town to see if anyone would bite! Pooh Pooh Pee Doo! Next on the blog agenda is the topic of BOYS! I was starting to notice boys more when I hit high school. I remember my first hickey! Whenever my older brother had a couple friends over – there was always a little teasing and tension. I thought I liked one of them and would follow them around or strategically be in the room they were about to enter. Regrettably I was in the living room when they burst in amidst a flurry of male high jinks and targeted me as their next sacrifice for their daily pagan ritual. While my brother and one of his friends held me down – the one I thought I liked – gave me a hickey. Now, don’t get upset by this obvious assault of three against one. I was squealing and laughing until I realized what the outcome of this ambush would result in – a large bruise on my lily-white virgin neck! I was beyond perturbed and rushed to the bathroom to see the damage. Apparently hickeys do not go away quickly. They were popular during this time-period and a badge of sexual honor. I hadn’t even dated yet and did not desire the attention it would inflict upon me. So, I wore turtlenecks – in the summer – until it faded into obscurity! I believe my brother got into trouble for this black and blue prank. I learned a vital lesson – I bruise easily! I was a Psycho Stalker! I had two boys that I dreamt of often. Desirous of their attention. Unfortunately I wrote sappy notes about them (mom found them and kept them in her Silly Colleen file). I yearned, pined and fantasized about our eternal (unrequited) love – but ultimately preferred the fretting and dreaming to the reality. I did go out with Jeff and Graydon.   I did think it was love. I did write saccharine psychotic notes.   I moved on when they didn’t live up to my fertile imagination. Actually both boys moved on first – but my heartbreak was more important to me than the actual (humiliating) break up. I thrived on drama. My internal life was far more stimulating than my external life.    Middle Children are so f**king weird! One thing that I’ve learned about young boys/men is – like periods and menopause – no one instructs them on how to kiss a woman (or man). I didn’t know what a good kiss was until I was an adult (18+). Sad but true. I won’t name names (even though I’d love to) but French-Kissing was the preferred method of lip-reading when I was in high school. Perfect example: we had an outdoor movie theater that held an all-nighter in the summer. This was the one time that our parents allowed us to hang out all night without adult supervision. I usually had a sibling hovering nearby – but it was a rowdy and hormone-riddled evening of possibilities! Everyone was running around and carhopping. Lots of fogged up windows. I was interested in a male friend’s brother and finally got some recognition. After much awkward flirting, he invited me into his cool hot-rod (old junker). The sexual tension and magic began and ended with our first clumsy kiss. As I leaned in with my virginal lips softly puckered, I was engulfed in a rubbery, slobbery chasm of drool. A black hole of saliva. You know the term – Wet Dream? Well, I was desperately trying to wake up from a – Wet Nightmare! As my gag reflex kicked in – my inside voice was screaming, “Wake Up! Save Yourself!” How to extricate my face from this sea monster’s jaws was my only ambition for these 5 minutes of hell! Once the suction eased – I was left with half my face covered in his slimy seduction. I was not amused or aroused. I came up with some lame excuse to flee his mouth, arms and smelly car. I just wanted to go home and take a shower! I’m not sure if it was the 70’s, Northern Maine or ignorance – but soupy, repellent and nauseating French-kissing was common practice in high school. A deficiency of our male youth. I eventually learned what a decent French Kiss was – but have an aversion to this form of making out. I prefer to keep my tonsils to myself!   I had aspirations – that were way above my paygrade - in the dating market. I wasn’t interested in my social structure. If I was going to date, then I wanted an upper classman who I could practice on for future romantic liaisons. I had a plan on when I would lose my virginity and selective on who got this tremendous honor. But that is part of the next MC Blog – post high school.   I didn’t date much in high school. I dabbled in the land of clumsy infatuation but deep down knew nothing could live up to my epic imagination. It wasn’t worth the effort. I had a group of classmate friends that I hung out with. We didn’t date each other – but playfully teased. We really didn’t label our relationships as – Best Friend 1, 2, 3, etc. We just gravitated towards this click of characters - a wide variety of genders, eccentricities and personalities. I was happy with this arrangement. I was closer to a couple of my classmates that has stood the test of time and remained to this day. Three people I admire and love for who they are – not what they’ve achieved. We don’t connect often – but I feel genuine happiness when we do. Middle Children, in my experience, do not form close attachments easily. We are very selective on who we allow inside our mind and lives – but not always great at fully judging that person’s character. If only I could have told my younger self who to avoid! Our (my) low self-esteem wreaks havoc on my people-reading radar. I now know that if I start to feel lonely and in need of a “Best Friend” – then I should have a piece of chocolate instead to stave off that craving. I no longer feel like being emotionally abused, taken for granted and used until I’m no longer beneficial to their selfish machinations. Soul-crushing narcissists are my kryptonite and should be avoided like the plague. It only took me 60 years to figure that out. MC’s do much better in a group of like-minded but diverse people – not one-on-one. My sister fills that elevated position, and she is all I need.    Being a MC – I tend to have most of my conversations with me, myself and I. Because of this inherent need to talk over every waking moment with – ME – I developed a habit of watching everyone and everything while lapping up and digesting all that went on around me. I covered my covert activity by being silly and loud and annoying. My internal dialog probably explains why some people thought me snobby and arrogant. Making these assumptions is their problem and loss. But I honed this solitary skill through high school and took it to a whole new level in adulthood. I had BIG plans! Who's Heather? Polite but presumptuous! I certainly dreamt big! I was not the most popular girl or the pretties or the smartest in our class of 63 students – but I was plotting my future and debut for post-high school. I was going to move to NYC and become a STAR!!!   I was “ready for my closeup” and always dreamed of being an actress on the stage! I loved TV and movies – but theatre was the ultimate acting venue. It was visceral, real and live! The purest art form for an actor.    I had limited opportunities to blossom or hone my acting chops – but I took advantage of everything my high school offered to prove I had potential. I was a cheerleader from junior high through most of high school – which is a performance in front of a boisterous and sometimes hostile crowd – to toughen me up. Our mascot was a BEAVER – so you can only imagine how every cheerleader felt during basketball games. Let me share a few of the comments hurled our way during the season: Awkward family (MC) photo! Love the shoes! I see your Beaver! I want that, Beaver! Can I touch your Beaver! Etc., etc., etc. Lots of boys doing gnawing beaver impersonations with bucked-tooth enthusiasm! I hated that mascot!   I was in the band throughout school because music was such a huge part of my home life as well as my soul. I played B flat clarinet, E flat clarinet and my favorite – bass clarinet. We had school plays that I performed in and prepped me for grander theatrical endeavors. Our school also participated in Speaking Contests that included Our parades lasted about 10 minutes! competitive dramatic monologues – “Sorry Wrong Number.” (Don’t know that one? Don’t worry, no one else knows it but me.) I won my local easily and always placed in the regional and state competitions with high recognition. Small Maine potatoes but I needed the practice to harden my soul for rejections. My mother and I loved musicals – so I was very knowledgeable about musical theatre. My whole family were avid movie lovers. I watched Carol Burnette religiously and dreamt of following in her esteemed comedic footsteps. Comedy was my forte although drama sated my cold black heart. I did well in school and had ambitions of fame and fortune. In my mind - I was carrying an Oscar! I also loved writing and kept a journal/diary for years. English was my favorite subject in school. I’d been performing my whole life and knew that being an actress was the only vocation that I desired and deserved. The harsh realities of making a name for yourself came much later and its own blog – but it was the only profession that made me shine inside and out. I was good at picking potatoes, but I was spectacular at entertainment. Thanks to Mrs. Clowater, my mother and my family – I was never discouraged from this pursuit and all its challenges. My dramatic and flamboyant MC personality was made for the stage!!!   I look back at growing up in Northern Maine as a positive but was raised to explore strange new worlds and boldly go where no middle child has gone before (thank you Star Trek and Mom)!    Here are some funny moments in my high school years: Yearbook picture - My mom and Doc! Learning how to drive was hilarious and hazardous. My instructor, Doc, was not only Vice Principal but best friends with my dad. I highly respected him and we kept the personal relationship separate from vice principal (and driving instructor). I was (and am) a good driver, but not a confident one. We both made it through his tutelage with lots of pulling over to “chat,” and lots of Doc holding his head in his hands mumbling and LOTS of him cursing in French! I passed my driving test in a stick-shift Gremlin, in a snowstorm and a grumpy driving test examiner. He never passed anyone on the first try – but being OCD – I was a stickler for driving rules and he had to pass me – even though it pissed him off. Of course, the first time out alone in the Gremlin – I stopped on a hill in downtown Washburn and popped a wheelie as I laid rubber through town! Unintentional, but I wasn’t fond or great at stick-shift! Another winner! Make a demand and end with a threat! My mom worked in the principals office all through my high school years. I was the only sibling that was thrilled that she was watching our every move. I was in that office numerous times each day. She was at my beck and call 24/7! I'd pop in to give her my daily demands and grab (steal) all her change. She was my chauffeur, bank, secretary, body guard and shoulder to cry on. Who knows what shenanigans I would have gotten into without her protection and MC taming skills. Potato sack chic! I have no idea why I have a necklace of oven mitts? I never thought to turn the sack into a mini dress!!! Is that underwear on my head? Freshmen initiation had a theme for the newbies – Potato Farming. We had to show up first day of school in a potato sack outfit of our design. Some of us had some fashion sense, but I took it too literally. I got a lot of crap poured over my head that day.  I got extra shaving cream for my frumpy outfit! Glamorous shot of me picking potatoes - not my nose! More on potatoes. I (most of us) worked picking potatoes throughout our school years. They closed school end of September through October for the harvest. In high school, I advanced to working on my neighbor’s harvester. It was a warm and balmy fall day, so we all took off our sweatshirts. I wrapped mine around my waist. As we worked the potato belt – picking through for rocks or rotten taters – I started screaming at the top of my lungs. Gary, the farmer and neighbor, heard me above the din of the harvester machinery and jumped from his tractor compartment to the harvesting machine belt – in one leap and landed beside me. Look up a harvester picture and see the superhuman feat that man accomplished. He grabbed me and was checking out my body and yelled, “I saw blood!! Where’s the blood? Why were you screaming!!!” I pointed at the belt where my new red sweatshirt had dislodged from my waist and proceeded to get pummeled and entangled in the belt – which looked like blood to Gary! I said, “My new sweatshirt is ruined!!!” It’s a miracle I’m still alive. He had no idea how he was going to explain my missing limbs to my parents. He was equal parts relieved and furious. I think he came close to making those bloody missing limbs a reality!      My sister moved to NY after college and invited me down to visit. I had no money for a bus or plane ticket, so that same farmer neighbor, Gary, offered me a ride in his 18-wheeler. He had his own semis for potato transport and happened to be going through NY. So, I pulled an all-nighter with him. I occasionally slept in his bunk compartment and ate his snacks until he pulled up outside my sisters in the Bronx. I had a great time with Bridget. She took me downtown and one of our stops was a fancy club/disco. Did you know that they allow 16-year-olds into NYC clubs? Did you know that you can get served alcohol – even though I didn’t drink (then). Did you know that rich men dressed like Sheiks will buy you drinks? Did you know that these men will buy virgins? I believe I was purchased that night?? I must ask my sister how much I cost.  My odyssey of recollections will take a short break. Being a MC is exhausting! We are tsunamis of torment. I still have MC stories to tell - my loss of virginity, my contempt for frats, my acting years, adulthood in general and carefully meander/tip toe my way through some questionable flashbacks. None of us are immune to temptations and horrendous decisions (some lawful and some not). There are times – in this  Fellini-esque film/parade of a MC life – where the circus clowns are freakish, and the discordant marching band is playing an off-key dirge! So, I just hit that Middle C(hild) note and sing my own idiosyncratic opus loudly and flamboyantly for all to hear! I said Forgive Me a lot! Love you MOM! Don't forget to read Parts 1, 2 & 3 on Growing up Middle(ing). Plus I have plenty of other hilarious and embarrassing blogs - revealing all my messy wobbly-bits - mentally and physically! I haven't decided what my next topic will be - maybe my obsession with salt & peppers - but some crazy will be coming soon! There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please tell everyone that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your social media friends, family (middle children) and followers.   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh

Family photo out-take - everyone Smile! I’ve barely covered the younger years of finding my Middle Child (MC) vocation in our small universe. Being told, "You were a mistake!" Flailing through life and somehow still alive (remember – no seatbelts). Choices I’ve made not always mentally sound and yet sometimes leading to unexpected surprises (many failures and years to locate and ensnare my second husband – Ed). You’re bound to get it right on occasion!! I also realized that my initials – CM – is – MC – backwards! Coincidence? I think not!! The one thing that has remained true to my inner-middle-child is that humor has aided and abetted me in the most troubling of times. Humor is a sustainable natural resource!!   Not sure if we are praying, playing hide & seek or hiding our heads in shame? One fun part of doing this series of MC introspective is looking through all the various photo albums, or better yet, badgering my mom to find photos that I can’t locate. Turning her world upside down. I no longer write her notes – but now text her to a fever pitch which in itself is quite threatening. When I feel she isn’t responding quickly enough to my texts (virtual notes) – I call her to “press” the issue. I do love irony/ing! She recently sent me a text photo with a Post-it note on her end table that said: Why did I only get the OCD gene? Apparently, I got the Post-it Note gene from her. I also got the, “Ignore that Post-it Note gene!” Another note Mom saved. Not sure why I needed her to buy me guns and a holster? These images bring back so many memories – or should I say – my enhanced version of memories. Some good and some not so good. Careening down memory lane is a chance encounter with happiness or pain depending on who or what you stumble into. My family all have their own interpretations of growing up and each account is unique and true to them. A slight variation on the same theme or event. As a result of jogging my questionable memories, looking through dozens of photos has exacerbated my MC self-esteem issues and feelings of inadequacy, disappointment and failure. I see myself tumbling back into old routines of saying, “I’m sorry” or “I never do anything right” etc. etc. Tendencies of inefficacy and powerlessness and self-deprecation. Old habits die mercilessly.   I’ve mentioned this in my   Memory Loss blog  that my recollections are often very different than my families. Excerpt below: My Memories!!! Fact or Fiction?  It doesn’t’ matter if it’s true or not – it’s what I remember! How I remember! Is it wrong? I don’t think so. If you play the game “Rumor” by whispering a short rumor into someone’s ear and then they pass it along to the next person, etc. etc. – that rumor doesn’t resemble the original one at all! I equate my personal stories to this Rumor game – what I remember can be a completely different “rumor” to the other participants. It happens all the time when I’m with family and relate a story from my past. My mother or brother will pipe up and say, “Colleen, you are completely wrong. That’s not what happened.” I whole-heartedly believe that I am not wrong – I just remember it differently. Memory is subjective and my memories don’t always mesh with other family members, husband, friends, etc. My husband thinks I “embellish” our stories – but do I? In my mind everything is embellished and magnified! That’s just how my brain and personality work. It’s the same story – but told by ME!! I’ve never denied my melodrama and flair for the sensational! I was an actress for crying out loud!!! Practically everything I do is a performance and I expect applause! I’m a middle child of 5 – second girl.  1. Sister 2. Brother 3. ME 4. Brother 5. Brother My memories never sync with my other siblings or parents – but I believe, as a middle child, my stories are absolutely true in my teeny tiny yet spectacular universe. Middle children go through life as if they are on LSD 24/7. Our memories are all “Magical Mystery Stories” because that’s how we get through life as “Not quite as good as the First Child/Daughter or Second Child/Son.” I’ve never done LSD – but I think I know it’s effects!!! I’ve decided at 64 (almost Medicare age) – that I don’t give a rat’s ass if my stories are different from others. It’s what I remember and I’m sticking to it My first wedding was magical! We marry young in Maine! My cousin Rodney and I were a happy couple! When the first dance ended - so did the marriage! I love this picture! My sister recently pointed out that our father – Roscoe – was a middle child. That makes so much sense now. Dad and I were close, and I have inherited many of his attributes: balding, humor, denial and self-destruction. Some of it good and some bad. No wonder we bonded – solidarity/strength in numbers! I love/loved my father very much and vied hard for his attention. I loved to make him smile. Dad will be his own blog. I miss him so much, but I know a therapist would salivate over our codependent relationship. I’ll just let my good frenemy “Denial”   take the lead for now. I don’t have time to repair all my issues.    MC Memory 1  - One story that can only be told from my perspective is my real-life version of the Alfred Hitchcock movie, “ The Birds .” My grandfather (Mom’s dad) was a potato farmer. His well-kept farm and home included the typical barns and sheds. One of our visits was just a normal outing for all but one. As everyone exited the car and raced to the house to see what Grammy had baked for us – I lagged behind. It started with one barn swallow swooping down invading my personal space. I kept moving until another one joined in this game of WTF. Next thing I know there is a   nightmare ballet of barn swallows descending from the heavens to perform a Swallow Lake on my head! A frenzied swoop of dive-bombing birds was snatching pieces of my white-blonde hair and scalp as if easier to start at the top and work their way down to this little piggy said, “Wee, Wee, Wee all the way back to the car!!” No wonder I cut my hair short now! Screaming, I did a reverse zig zag maneuver for safety. That house got smaller and further away as all thought and reason left my tiny little brain. It took a while for me to time it just right for the life-threatening slow-motion marathon to their house – but I eventually managed to slam their front door shut while birds splattered on the glass (I made that part up – I loved that movie). The moral of this story is: “Don’t expect your family to rush to your defense when a bunch of crazy-ass barn swallows are hungry for blonde bird-nest fodder.” I assumed that the demise of the middle child was just a part of growing up in northern Maine. Eliminating (by freakish chance/accident) an aggravating and annoying offspring justifies the loss. When you have a family of five or more – the odds are not in your favor for survival – unless you are the fittest or the fastest! MC Memory 2  - My grandfather was the eldest of 12. His parents were also farmers and lived up the road from Grampy’s homestead. I was always nervous and uncomfortable when visiting my Great Grandparents (GG). GG Hamp was a quiet man but very tender-hearted towards the kids. GG Sade was – let me be brutally honest – terrifying. She was not warm and cuddly like my Grammy Doris. At 65, I can’t blame this woman for her less than welcoming attitude. She birthed 12 children without reliable medical care (I assume she There is nothing glamorous about picking potatoes! had little to know help in birthing all those babies – except local farming women). She also lost some of them. They were hard-working people and had no down time to mourn because they had fields to plant, till, tend and harvest. They were not well off and so they worked harder to support their enormous family – counting the days until their children were big enough to help in the fields (age 2 – they could walk). I grew up in a farming community with potatoes as the primary crop. Maine was the leading potato state way before stupid Idaho (sorry Idahoans – it was a brutal competition until you won – still hurts). We have far superior and sweeter potatoes. Just sayin!! (More on potato picking to come in the next blog. When you entered my GG’s house – there was an unheated enclosed porch. This porch contained one of two frivolous feminine passions of my staid, sober and unyielding GG Sade. She had a huge hutch cabinet filled with a unique and fun Salt & Pepper collection. Since she made me nervous, and I did not want her glaring eye to find fault – I spent hours in that freezing or steaming room – pending the season – memorizing her huge entertaining collection. I couldn’t touch them, but I was enchanted by them. It gave me insight into this woman that I was related to and feared. Jump forward 30 years – and I now have a Salt & Pepper collection of around 200 (which might get its own blog). Her collection was split up amongst all her living children when she passed – even though none collected. I was able to find a large portion of the S&P’s that she accrued. So, I did inherit that one fanciful hobby gene, but I smile more. Gives me solace when I look at them. I’ve also mentioned in a previous blog that my sister, Bridget, was GG Sade’s favorite. I believe she actually smiled when she saw Bridget. This woman baked the BEST cinnamon rolls I’ve ever (almost) tasted. Meaning – when you’d enter her home, the sweet mouth-watering smell of cinnamon, sugar and bread made you dizzy with hunger and excitement. I would ignore the S&P collection entranced by the aroma. BUT, as we all entered in anticipation of the reward of that heavenly treat and Bridget was duly fawned over – GG Sade would announce, “You all must wait until Bridget has her cinnamon rolls. She goes first.” Bridget didn’t lord it over us or consume the huge tray of rolls by herself – but the favoritism did dampen our (my) enthusiasm. At least I had my tiny little solitary corner on the porch! My Great Grandparents 50th Anniversary! She's smiling! MC Memory 3  - GG Sade’s other passion was her “Parlor.” She had a very utilitarian simple home – but she had one room that was out of a magazine or movie – in my eyes anyway. The only caveat was that we couldn’t go in this room – ever! It was filled with velvet covered loveseats and homemade tatted intricate doilies draped in the center on the back of the sofa. Everything in the room was perfectly curated and maintained and in this time capsule of late 19th – early 20th century style. It was charming and magical and out of my grubby grasp. The only time I was allowed entry was when my GG Hamp passed away. She had his casket viewing in this “Parlor” for all attendees to say their goodbyes. During a lull, I snuck into the room and crept inside. I had to touch that velvet sofa but was hesitant to go near the casket. This was my first funeral and I had little to no knowledge of what death meant. I was too young and was more interested in the furniture and pretended that there wasn’t a dead body two feet away. Next thing I know – I’m being hauled up by my GG Sade - hands under my armpits – and little legs dangling – she quickly approached that casket and waxen figure. GG Sade shoved my body inside, face to face with GG Hamp and she screeched, “KISS HIM! KISS HIM!” I think I blacked out. I don’t remember anything after being mauled and forced to kiss a waxed version of someone I knew and loved. I remember the smell of cloying sweet perfume (formaldehyde) and make-up. I never set foot in that parlor of horrors ever again. I also have a phobia of funerals and wakes to this day. My end-of-life directive is cremation, and a wake is forbidden. Put me in an urn with a picture of me on it – with eyes that follow you as you walk by. I told Ed to place that urn on the mantle in the living room so I could keep an eye on him when he brought some floozy (woman of ill repute) home!!   Maybe GG Sade was trying to toughen me up for all life’s laborious lessons and as a MC thought I needed an extra boost of, “Life is hard – now deal with it!” Not all life’s surprises are parties and presents!    MC Memory 4  - I loved it when I had a loose tooth! I'll do anything for attention! Wiggling it back and forth with my tongue until it was being held by a strand of gristle. Grampy was hardened to farm life and tying a string (with who knows what on his hands) around my loose tooth and (with my permission) yanking it out gave him pleasure. I'll do anything to get a smile from Grampy! He wasn’t a warm and cuddly grandfather (like his mom), but a rare smile would appear when I gleefully opened my mouth wide and he pulled my bloody tooth out. My masochistic nature derived quite a bit of joy with his bespoke attention and DIY dentistry!    I love and adore this woman! My grandfather saved most of his smiles for - my grandmother – Doris - who was my idol and favorite person in the whole wide world. Angels sang “Halleluiah” amidst the stars when she was born. Visiting her brought joy to all of us. I plan on doing an entire blog extolling her beauty inside and out. Tricking us into churning her butter or ice cream (they had cows) did not deter us from doing her bidding. I would have gleefully allowed those psychotic barn swallows to peck all my hair out if she had asked me. Turning an old wood handle 10 million times for a pound of butter was my priviledge!   MC Memory 5  - The early School Years! Because of my October birthday, I was about a year younger than most of my classmates. We did not have Pre-K or kindergarten – but were thrown right into first grade with the expectation that we weren’t idiots, knew our ABC’s, some knowledge of numbers and our teacher’s expectations. Pampering children was not a way of life in the olden days. There was no integration into this social/educational system. We just had to put a tourniquet on our wounded psyche and child (man) up!  Not jaded yet - I still look happy! Even though I lived in Washburn – because of the area (countryside) I resided in - we were shipped to a village called   Crouseville . We had to bus past the Washburn school and travel another 20 minutes to our little red schoolhouse (yes, it was the stereotypical “Little Red Schoolhouse!”). It was comprised of 2 large rooms. First and Second grade in one room and Third and Fourth in the other – with one teacher per room. I went to this Little House on the Prairie school for 3 years before they terminated the obsolete school (and teachers).   We had Mrs. Adams our first 2 years. She was not a tenderhearted individual. If you like sharks, then you’d love her smile. It was insincere and predatory – and she smacked her lips when she had cornered her naïve, trembling and tasty prey. I’m not sure of her age – but I believed she was about 300 years old when I entered school and only staved off aging by consuming the innocent souls of her pubescent students. It seems like she mentioned that she’d taught my great, great, great grandfather – but I may have mis-heard? Or did I? I recall Mrs. Adams as having big teased red hair (wig?) with dark cat-eye shaped eyeglasses and red lipstick. She did not tolerate insubordination - meaning: Abide by her rules or suffer the First grade - so sweet and innocent. humiliating consequences. Her bloodlust was sated by her innocent pupils unknowingly breaking her unwritten rules – that changed daily based on the offense. For example: we had a set time to go to the dark, dank, haunted bathrooms in the basement of the building. If we had to use the “facilities” off-routine, we would notify her by raising our arm with either one finger or two fingers - which announced to both grades what we needed to accomplish in that scary basement facility. That raised flag of “pee or poop” was embarrassing and we were too young to lie about our intentions. No one wanted to go downstairs alone – so if you raised your hand – you needed to go badly and soon. There was one time that I’d been holding my tiny bladder and the urge to pee for as long as I could before I slowly and self-consciously raised my number one finger. She pretended not to see me or my finger for quite some time. I wasn’t interrupting a lecture because we were in a study period. But eventually her enormous red head lifted and over her cat-eye frames locked her dead eyes with mine. She loudly barked, “What do you want Miss McIntosh!” Even though you were told the rule of quietly raising your hand, I had to publicly declare my bladder issue by saying, “Mrs. Adams, I need to go number 1.” After an eon of rusty wheels cranking while maintaining her glare, she said, “NO! You’ll have to wait until recess.” Shortly after having an agonizing (silent) conversation with my screaming bladder – the floodgates opened and spread in a yellow hot stream of betrayal and defeat to the chairs around me. Crying tears of shame and lost innocence, I was chastised for all to hear and forced to clean up my mess and my soggy panties. My bladder had sold me down the proverbial river of urine and I learned a powerful lesson. Never drink water, never advertise my fingers intentions and never trust Mrs. Adams. My only other infraction was getting caught chewing gum. That capital offense ended up on my nose to remain until end of day. I witnessed another persecution in a classmate who was tried and found guilty with a lengthy prison sentence. I can’t remember his egregious wrong-doing – but she made him sit in the garbage can next to her desk in front of the class. He was a well-fed child and wedged himself thoroughly – and could not reverse this action. It did not illicit giggles, but a numbing solemnity of empathy. Knowing that it could be any one of us in that garbage can and praying this was a one-off penalty. When she finally released him from garbage jail – he was unable to remove his bottom and we all watched in horror as his beet-red face broke out into a torrential sweat - and without our aid – shimmied his way to freedom. I never forgot our teacher’s horrendous treachery. I feel ashamed that we all didn’t rise up and storm her desk in solidarity with our fallen/wedged comrade!  Mom took annual pix of our first day of school. When I finally reached third grade – with a new teacher – Mrs. Clarke – I felt short-lived relief. I should not have released my breath so soon. She must have previously been in the military as a Marine’s special ops scout sniper. I also believe she had augmented features – because she could hear a piece of paper whisper as it was handed to the next student and eyes camouflaged amidst her gray hair on the back of her head. This woman had eagle-eyed precision marksmanship when hurling an eraser projectile at your head – with a cloud of chalk dust as her smoking gun. I remember she launched a pencil at a male student – end over end – with the eraser hitting its mark – right between his eyes! She didn’t want to maim the child, just get their undying attention. She could also crack a ruler over your knuckles as if wielding a bull whip. That woman never missed her target (victim)!! But she certainly missed her calling!!  Mom also took annual sibling pix - most of us are smiling. Back in the 60’s, corporal punishment was a common and educational form of discipline. The teachers in my initial years were not only fond of this freedom of physically abusing their pupils, but we also suffered emotional abuse that had a lasting effect that helped mold our virgin psyches. It certainly fed my MC fears of fitting in, being liked and being noticed. It was “attention” that I learned to avoid by amping up my sparkling wit and charming personality to annoying levels of treacle. It made it harder for a teacher to challenge you if you were being funny, agreeable and a consummate suck-up. I believe both teachers excelled in their studies on the Spanish Inquisition and got an A+ for applying that knowledge while training young minds to toe the line (I always thought it was “tow the line” – as in towing the line of authority – I get idioms wrong all the time). We are still smiling - just wait until the later school photos! I remember liking my classmates and when our little school’s doors were barricaded shut (and the demons exorcised) – we all moved to the larger and scarier Washburn school district. These “citified” students were a tougher crowd. A lot of us knew each other from summers spent at the local swim hole and all the parents knowing each other’s families. We all took swimming lessons and spent every day of our short summers frolicking in this pond. But, for some reason, these same childhood friends became tyrants and bullies once they crossed the doors of Washburn District Grade School. Lots of cruel teasing and pulling of pigtails. But I do have good memories of recess, hop scotch and jumping rope with a group of girls. We had fun. I barely remember the teachers in middle school – but don’t have any burning scars from them either (or I buried the scars so deep that I’d need an exorcist to banish them). Was I going for a model or majorette look? I made friends and enjoyed the next few years until Junior High. I had one friend who was too popular for her own good. We were best friends – until we weren’t (her edict). Some individuals held more sway over the hordes of the hormonal angst-riddled populace. Believing they were untouchable and forever idolized. Be careful you fledgling narcissists, because there is always an understudy waiting in the wings praying, “Break a leg – B**ch!” More on these narcissists in a future blog! MC Memory 6  - Junior High was uneventful, except for a couple incidents. Our principal, Mr. Harper, was respected because he was built like a line-backer in a suit and crew cut. But boys will be boys (as all male teachers would say and justify). I remember one incident at my locker. One of those boys got a little handsy one day – just kidding around – and with no Practicing for my acting resume shot!! control over his raging hormones - grabbed my yet to be developed boobs. I was not pleased and slapped him to send a message, “Don’t touch my boobies without my permission and not until I decide you are worthy of doing so (and they grow beyond a AAA bra)!” Unbeknownst to us, Mr. Harper witnessed this assault and flew to my aid. He can move fast for a big guy! Next thing I know – the boy is being slammed up against the lockers over and over again. He was short for his age, and he was being tossed around like a rag doll. Mr. Harper was verbally emphasizing his displeasure on every bang. I was frozen in shock and dismay as my classmate finally slid down the locker to the floor dazed. No bones were broken but I don’t think he ever grabbed a boob again – at least publicly. I did not condone this form of punishment and surprised that the “boob squeezing” got attention from an adult in charge. As a female in the 60’s/70’s – you got used to never being listened to or taken seriously when harassed (unfortunately – this has not changed). But I was very uncomfortable with the violent display against my locker. The “boy” and I became good friends through the remaining school years and to this day keep in touch. I think my little slap was sufficient punishment. Mr. Harper was, of course, only doing his job – rule through fear.   I was Harry Potter before Harry Potter! Another slap event was with a girl. We were friends but as adolescents, our brains had not yet developed logic and the art of making good decisions. Once again, I don’t remember why she was mad at me. She was quite the spitfire and had bigger balls then any of the boys in our class. I was in a classroom when she assailed me with, “Just because you’re a McIntosh, you think you are better than the rest of us!” That statement really pissed me off (said on more than one occasion)! We live in a very Hatfield/McCoy town and even if you hate your family – no one is allowed to vilify your family. Only family can disparage family. My friend was not following code – so I patted her cheek enthusiastically (slapped) and said, “Don’t you ever say that about me or my family ever again!” We eventually made up and apologized, but I’m the only one authorized to lambaste my kin!!   All teens have insecurities when you have ranting and raging hormones. Some of my fellow students thought me arrogant and snobby. In reality, I was self-absorbed with my middle child insecurities, bodily fluctuations, braces, pimples and low self-esteem. Too busy navigating the tiny halls of Washburn middle, Junior and High School to placate someone else’s ego. Teens are aberrations. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde abominations! We have little to no control over our words and actions. Teenagers are mentally unsound and should not be held liable for those 7 years of mayhem.   I’m going to stop at 8th grade for now. High School is a chapter/blog unto itself. Being Middle(ing), periods, boobs, boys and finding my calling were all part of the High School years. The terrible teens were exhausting! But not as exhausting as the Menopause and my Senior years! I think I was going for sultry and mysterious - but got creepy! Don't forget to read Parts 1 & 2 on Growing up Middle(ing). Plus I have plenty of other hilarious blogs - revealing all my messy wobbly-bits - mentally and physically! The High School years - Part 4 coming soon! " There are countless books competing for readers' attention, which is why the power and importance of book reviews cannot be overstated. They serve as gateways to a book's world. And offer potential readers insight into what they can expect. Plus, book reviews are crucial for discoverability, marketing, and boosting sales, especially for indie authors ."   By   Barnes & Noble Press/Blog I would really appreciate some reviews. Amazon takes them VERY SERIOUSLY  and it really helps my ranking, relevancy, algorithm and ego. Please tell everyone that my book is available on Amazon - Menopause the Horror, Humility, and Humor of It All! Thanks again for your support and encouragement. I am so humbled by your kindness. You are forever my Super Hero’s!!!   Remember – Women Ignite and Women Unite!    Thanks for taking the time to read my book and my blog. Tell all your social media friends, family (middle children) and followers.   Let’s be Friends!! Colleen McIntosh