Approximately 6,000 women enter menopause every day in the United States. That means by Friday, we could populate a small town with sweating, crying inhabitants with indigestion and hairy toes. By the end of the month, we could have a city the size of Gilbert, Arizona with 180,000 women helplessly hurled into hormonal havoc. Get out of their way because some of them are in a testy mood.To survive the physical and mental annoyances that assault your body and mind during menopause, here are some helpful suggestions that have absolutely no basis in medical fact:1. Take all your pointy-toed shoes and line them up in the driveway. Then drive over them several times before you throw them away. Your feet will feel fabulous and you’ll get rid of some latent aggression.2. Cool your steaming head with a boxes of frozen diet food that have been languishing in your freezer for the past ten years. You’re never going to eat them anyway so you might as well put them to good use.3. The next time a telemarketer calls, start explaining your ailments and frustrations in graphic detail. Don’t stop until the caller starts to cry. Then hang up.4. Feeling lonely? Email your friends that you’ve decided to give all your money to that nice young woman who called from Nigeria. Then sit back and wait for them to scurry over for a visit.5. If you experience uncontrollable urges to shop and eat (and who doesn’t), just blame it all on menopause. You can shop and eat for less than $30 if you wander through the aisles at Costco and feast on all the free samples. Then buy a case of wine, a huge jar of chocolate covered peanuts, and a twelve-pound pie and then call your friends over for a party. To be prudent, don’t forget the year’s supply of toilet paper.6. Symptoms of menopause can make you forgetful and absent-minded. Write your kid’s names on their foreheads with a Magic Marker Pen so you don’t have to go through the irritation of memorizing their names every day.7. Menopause can make you magnificent! That’s baloney, but claim that as your mantra if it makes you feel better. Remember, this all will pass some day and then you’ll be too old to care anymore.
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Country Girl Goes to the Spa
Idaho’s winter of 2008 lasted about three years, so I recently packed my hide-all black swim suit, new black sandals, and glue-on fake toe nails and headed south to a spa near the ocean.Within the first hour at the resort I stepped into an infinity pond that I thought was polished granite flooring. Too bad I wasn’t wearing my prescription sunglasses or I would have seen the water. Anyway, the dye on the sandals turned my feet into black and white stripes. Luckily, my fake toe tails didn’t come off.I had arranged for a massage the following day and I didn’t want to appear with clown feet, so I decided to walk along the beach and let the sand wear off the dye. The two hour stroll erased some of the black stripes but unfortunately I got a hideous burn from the intense sun. Then the humidity turned my hair into an uncontrollable bush of wire thick enough to hold my keys, a water bottle, and a sassy novel.I arrived the next morning at the spa, greeted by gentle hostesses named Jasmine and Camilla. Once ensconced in a fluffy white robe, I was ushered to the waiting room where chimes were tinkling and scented candles glowed in the dim light. Around me sat the most beautiful women I had ever seen. No, they didn’t sit. They floated in the room with perfect skin, flawless faces, and tight, teeny bodies.They turned in unison to stare as I stumbled into the room, tripped over the bamboo rug, spilled my mango-infused water, and lost two toenails. I sat there with a soaking robe, frizzy hair, black-striped feet, sunburned nose, and stubby toe nails. As I retrieved the errant nails and stuffed them into my pocket, I knew that I had become the court jester in a room of Grecian Goddesses.But, there’s nothing like a 90-minute massage to make all the mental and physical pains go away. The massage therapist applied scented oils to my sunburn, dug her elbows into my aching back, and rubbed my feet with soothing cream. By the end, I wanted to take her home with me. I happily glided back to my room, grateful to feel so good and eager for my next entertaining adventure.
Midlife Cabernet: My Grandkid has More Chromosomes than Yours
In January of 2009, a woman in California gave birth to eight children, giving her a total of 14 healthy kids. She was single, unemployed, living with her parents, and later she received income by filming a pornography video and taking welfare. The following January my daughter gave birth to a precious baby girl who has Down syndrome. Because I have human frailties, my first reaction was to cry and then curse the Octomom.
My angst was soothed when I held my tiny granddaughter, careful not to disturb the various tubes and monitors covering her body in the incubator at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I’ve never wallowed in the life-is-not-fair pity party, but I was confused about the unknown: Why did this happen? How do we help? What is her future? What about my daughter?
Almost four years after the initial shock, the extended family now is convinced that this little bundle of funny faces, squawking noises, and death-grip hugs has much to teach us about love and life. And she answered my worried questions: It happened because an extra chromosome appeared in the early stages of fetal development. We can help by loving her and offering to help her parents. Her future is better than if she had been born 50 years ago and institutionalized. And, her mother outshines Wonder Woman.
Uneducated and insecure people reveal their prejudices when they ridicule someone with Down syndrome. When I’m with Sweetie Pie, sometimes I get “the look of pity” from others or the recognizable sigh of “I’m thankful that didn’t happen to me.” Because of Sweetie Pie, I have learned that ignorance and cruelty are bigger handicaps than a little extra chromosome. Any pity should be given to the 14 children in California and their irresponsible, incompetent mother.
It’s not all hugs and kisses. Sweetie Pie has developmental challenges that other toddlers don’t experience. She only recently learned to walk and has a limited vocabulary. Some children with Down syndrome aren’t toilet trained until they are 8-years-old, and other siblings must adapt to the family’s schedules. But Sweetie Pie was born with her parent’s tenacity and her own unique strength. She is destined to amaze all of us.
We have a photograph of my daughter with her two daughters. She is holding her newborn baby, still wearing oxygen tubes, as the 2-year-old stands beside them. My daughter looks into the distance, and her gaze reflects all the emotions of a dedicated woman. This mother will never degrade herself as the Octomom did to support her children, but she will fight like a warrior to protect and raise them. With the help of a good husband, she is the strength, the passion, and the force that make everything work. She is awesome.
October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month. Our family is walking with Sweetie Pie in the Buddy Walk in downtown Boise. Drivers shouldn’t be irritated as we block busy intersections, and they should wave and celebrate as little ones with almond-shaped eyes and braces on their legs take another concentrated step toward independence. They are worthy of respect. They are worthy of life.
Today’s blog was fueled by a 2009 Cain Concept red wine from Napa Valley. Named The Benchland, this delicious blend offers a splendid combination of cabernet sauvignon, merlot, cabernet franc, and petit verdot. It’s complex and complicated – much like life – and proves that goodness comes from having more than one kind of grape in the batch.
Menopause Sucks in Two Months!
Menopause Sucks will be released nationally on July 8. (There’s still time to pre-order on Amazon.com so you can be the first on your block to enjoy this literary masterpiece.)Here are some excerpts:”It’s just a crying shame that you could live to be 100 but only twenty of those years come with youthful vigor, shiny hair, smooth skin, multiple orgasms, and a flat stomach. While it is better than dying too young, living past forty often comes with unpleasant and bewildering challenges.””In medical terms, estrogen is produced in your ovaries and acts as a chemical commander in chief, telling your female body what to do. In not-so-medical terms, imagine a teeny tyrant running through your brain yelling, “Grow pubic hair now!” “Ovulate from the left ovary!” or “Make that boob bigger than the other one!””As perimenopause begins, your ovaries are tired of taking orders, so they decide to reduce the production of estrogen. “Attention All Sectors. Estrogen is leaving the body. Farewell party at noon in the pituitary gland.” Then all hell breaks loose and you start to experience symptoms of perimenopause. The fact that you live through this chaos is definite proof of your magnificence. A lesser species would have become extinct millions of years ago.””It’s a rather cruel trick of nature that you could be raising teenagers and caring for aging parents while your Generalissimo Estrogen is barking orders at your female parts, your Busy Bee Progesterones are frantically fixing up the uterus for the Sperm and Egg Combo, and your Naughty Testosterone is working your libido like a tigress in heat.”(Note: Copyright material – no using without permission. Just buy the book.)
Today’s Cabernet
Today’s blog was fueled by a glass of 2006 Montevina, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot from the San Lorenzo region of Mexico. It’s my duty through serious market research to sample wine from other countries. Besides, the handsome waiter named Carlos recommended this “vino tinto.” The bottle cost $34 at a restaurant in Acapulco and was paired with a yummy antipasto with fresh melon wrapped in procuitto and crusty bruchetta smeared with pesto sauce.
Mexican Jumping Beings
So we get away to Acapulco to relax and watch the ocean. Sunday night around 7 p.m. we’re sipping a cocktail at the outdoor lounge when suddenly the drinks start dancing on the table. Then the table starts doing the shimmy across the floor. Damn, I must give up drinking. Then my chair begins to move around. ¡Carumba! It’s an earthquake!We debated the choices: run for higher ground to avoid a tsunami, but our passports and cash are locked in the safe in the room. But if the power goes out we can’t get into the room or open the safe. Then we would be trapped on the fifth floor as it crashed down. The best and most logical choice: stay put and finish our drinks.I didn’t sleep a wink that night because I was worried about earthquakes, tsunamis, and the fried tortilla that could send me running to the bathroom. We learned the next day that it was a 5.6 earthquake centered in Mexico City. Safe for another day, at least. We celebrated, of course, at the seaside cantina.
