Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Naughty NextDoor: Candy Culprits and Deadly Ducks

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Watching for Naughty Neighbors

When I get bored watching the circus in Washington, DC, I glance at my NextDoor account to read about what’s going on in the neighborhood. The comments provide the best entertainment in town. Here are examples of recent online conversations (with my added comments) from actual adults who are allowed to own homes and walk among us:

Neighbor 1: Someone left a Secret Santa gift on my porch but a neighborhood kid stole a candy bar!
Neighbor 2: You don’t have to get snotty about it. Maybe the child was lonely and hungry.
Neighbor 3: Neither of you should eat a candy bar. I’ve seen you in shorts. Ghastly!
Neighbor 4: Give everyone a candy bar, just like the Communists. Is that why your door is painted red?
Neighbor 5: I think the Secret Santa gift was intended for me. Please bring it over after 3:00 pm.

Two women neighbours talking over a white picket fence in the 1940’s. (Photo by FPG/Getty Images)

Neighbors used to chat over the fence or take a casserole next door to discuss issues. Now they lob accusation, insults, and childish comments over the Internet instead of walking across the street. Here’s another enhanced example:

Neighbor 1: My crime camera caught a teenager prowling my porch. When I posted it here, a neighbor complained that I was publicly shaming a child.
Neighbor 2: It was cruel to post the video. His parents are drug addicts. Have some compassion.
Neighbor 1: Well, if this brat is held accountable, he won’t turn out like his loser parents.
Neighbor 3: Who are the drug addicts? Do they live on my street? Are they the ones with the purple hair and tattoos? I never liked them.
Neighbor 6: Does anyone know a good pest control company? I think there are fruit bats with rabies in my attic.
Neighbor 2: This is the “Crime & Safety” section. Post your question in the “Recommendations” category.
Neighbor 1: What? We have rabies-infected creatures in the neighborhood? What do we do?

Beware of rabid bats.

I was tempted to run away and live in the forest without any neighborhood chat groups after this haunting exchange:

Neighbor 9: Stop feeding the ducks! They need to migrate. We have too many male Mallards and they gang-rape a female and hold her head under water until she drowns.
Neighbor 10: You idiot. It’s not mating season. And if male ducks raped and killed the female ducks, there wouldn’t be anymore ducks. Get a life.
Neighbor 11: Well, I’m never taking my grandkids to the pond again to feed the ducks. They don’t need to see any duck rapes.
Neighbor 4: You liberal crybabies want to feed the ducks to keep them dependent on the government.

Around the world, people live in fear of famine, wars, natural disasters, and lethal diseases. Here, in my little corner of Meridian, Idaho, all I need to fear are candy thieves, fruit bats with rabies, gang-raping ducks, and communists. It’s not Bedford Falls as portrayed in the delightful Christmas movie with Jimmy Stewart, but still, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Forget the Elf! Find Myself on Your Shelf!

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‘Tis the season to give lasting gifts, so stock the stockings with award-winning books from Idaho bestselling author Elaine Ambrose. Save a few for yourself! Shop local and order books from local bookstores. If they can’t secure books, find them online.

The new memoir, Frozen Dinners – A Memoir of a Fractured Family, debuted in November and has received 5-star reviews. It’s available from local bookstores, online, and from the author in hardcover and eBook formats.

 

 

Four other books by Ambrose have won professional praise and six national writing awards in the past four years.

 

   

Midlife Happy Hour – Our Reward for Surviving Careers, Kids, and Chaos

 


Midlife Cabernet – Life, Love, and Laughter After Fifty

 

Gators & Taters – A Week of Bedtime Stories

  • 2018 “Distinguished Favorite” for Children’s Literature from the Independent Press Awards
  • One of 50 Children’s Books Selected for Bowker’s National Recommended Reading List

 

The Magic Potato – La Papa Mágica 

  • 2018 Silver Medal Winner from the Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards for Children’s Literature
  • Adopted by the Idaho State Board of Education for the statewide curriculum.

 

For those in the Boise area, Ambrose is available to autograph and personalize her books. She prefers to meet at The Club at Spurwing with books and can include a holiday hot toddy.

But wait! There are more books and anthologies to view for your reading pleasure. For additional information about the author’s books, blogs, and events, see her website at www.ElaineAmbrose.com.

     

 

 

       

Does the Parade End at the Empy Nest?

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When my kids were three and five we took them to Disneyland because we wanted to spend our life’s savings to stand in line with a million sweaty people and wait an hour for a 30-second ride. Disneyland was celebrating Donald Duck’s 50th Birthday, and the speech-impaired duck was my three-year-old son’s favorite funny character (besides me, of course.) Wishing for a cattle prod, we maneuvered our way to the front of the crowd for the afternoon Magic Kingdom Parade and waited eagerly to be enchanted. On days when I border on madness (too numerous to count), I can still hear the cacophony of the calliope as the giant duck sings, “It’s Donald’s Birthday, it’s Donald’s Birthday!”

After the parade ended, my usually-ebullient son began sobbing uncontrollably. I asked what was wrong and he answered, “Because it’s over.” At that moment I would have given everything I owned to make the parade start again, but I knew that was impossible, (I didn’t own that much) so I sat on the curb and held him until he stopped crying. What else do you do when the magic goes away?

Most of us have seen several decades of parades, and sometimes we feel deflated when the commotion stops. We recently ended the season of high school and college graduations and all the summer weddings. Each celebration deserves elaborate fanfare, but we know from experience that the festivities come to an end. That’s when new graduates realize they must (pick at least one):

Get a job
Marry rich
Move out of their parent’s basement
Invent a better Facebook-Video-Game that includes donuts

And the newlyweds realize their spouse (pick at least one):
Farts on the hour and belches sulfur
Cries about road kill
Faints at your kid’s projectile vomiting
Gets diarrhea at dinner parties

Then your new spouse gets dramatically alarmed when you sleep with a:
Humming teddy bear
Dog
Nasty magazine
Picture of mother

Yes, that’s when the parade is over and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. We just need to sit on the curb in our own Magic Kingdom and hold ourselves until we stop crying.

It’s time to lead your own parade!

Many middle-aged women experience Empty Nest Syndrome after the youngest child leaves home for college, jail, the circus, or to find him/herself. After at least 18 years of majestically sacrificing our lives for our delightful offspring, they gleefully run out of the door and into the dangerous world without a helmet or a clean change of underwear. Our tears stop when they turn around to come back, but it’s only to ask for gas money. We slink back to our reruns of the Carol Burnett Show and pathetically relate to the cleaning lady at the end who sweeps up the mess and turns off the lights.

Good News! Now is your opportunity to turn that empty bedroom into a retreat for:

Sewing, craft, and writing projects
A private wine bar
Afternoon sex
Séances with Madam Moonbeam (great write-off)
All of the above

Do it now so the kids can’t move back and bring their pet spider collection, garage band, and/or face-eating zombie. Also, you could use your extra time to take a class, try yoga, volunteer, or start a creative project. You may want to focus on your physical and mental health; maybe talk to a professional about that stupid duck song that keeps squawking in your head. Or (my favorite suggestion) become the drum major of your own parade, just don’t forget to tip the guy who cleans up after the horses. And, of course, any midlife parade is best enjoyed with a bold and liberated red wine.

When Your Audience Says “Stop Talking”

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At a recent presentation, I was shocked when the audience seemed irritated because I was there. They refused to laugh at my jokes, so I began an energized speech sure to sway their misguided skepticism. I failed.

Throughout my writing and public relations career, I’ve presented hundreds of speeches and workshops. I follow a familiar routine of entering the room, greeting the participants, and embarking on proven techniques to earn an immediate laugh. The sparkle in their eyes and their animated body language tell me I have them in the palm of my hand. Surely, my provocative and brilliant oratory is destined to entertain and enlighten the world.

For paid appearances at national conferences, I arrange the details in advance and keep complete notebooks with facts about Power Point presentations, audio/visual equipment, handouts, room arrangements, conference schedules, key contacts, and important information about the audience. I’m less organized when I give free speeches to local organizations and usually pop into the meeting, do my thing, sell some books, and leave them laughing.

The Idaho Writers Guild organized a series of free workshops for local writers in the Boise area. Because I recently completed a memoir titled Frozen Dinners, I agreed to present a workshop about how to write a memoir. To prepare, I wrote and printed handouts and gathered business cards, bookmarks, and copies of my books. I promoted the event on social media and anticipated the two-hour workshop would be fun and easy.

I arrived at the Collister Library 20 minutes before my workshop and introduced myself to the staff. A kind woman escorted me to a meeting room full of a dozen women. I proceeded to unpack my supplies and arrange my books and materials. I noticed that they seemed aloof. That immediate rejection caused me to try harder and bring out my killer jokes, usually reserved for tepid audiences. This tactic didn’t work, so I kept talking, mentally scrambling to rearrange my outline. They continued to stare at me without emotion.

Self-doubt creeped over my confidence. Did they detect manure on my shoes because I grew up on a pig farm? Maybe my speaking career was over. Maybe I was a fraud. Maybe no one ever wanted to hear me talk or lead a workshop, and I should run away to live alone in the mountains. Then I noticed the women all had sewing projects on the table.


“Are you here for the writing workshop?” I asked.

“No. This is the weekly meeting of our needlepoint club, and we’ve been discussing new patterns,” said an older woman. I imagined her name was Blanche. She was working on a floral design for a pillowcase. The others continued to stare at me, their fingers holding pointed needles in midair.

“We didn’t know why you were speaking to us,” another woman said. She resembled my great-aunt Gertrude. “But, we didn’t know how to make you stop talking.”

I’ve heard that comment before, usually from teachers, bosses, and romantic dates. I reminded myself to stop agreeing to give workshops for free.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered as I gathered my supplies and stuffed them into my bags. “I guess you won’t want my books about menopause and midlife Cabernet.” They didn’t laugh. I made a mental note to investigate any mysterious crimes committed by stoic people who needlepoint.

I hurried out the door and wandered around the library until I found the room where my writing students were patiently waiting.


“We thought you weren’t coming,” the librarian said. She didn’t notice my eye twitching. She gave a glowing introduction and my confidence slowly returned. I arranged my books and materials, again, and launched into my workshop. They laughed within the first minute. I was back, and they were mine.

 

Can Midlife Marriage Survive a Prolapsed Bladder?

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“It’s a good thing we aren’t dating in our twenties now,” my husband mused as I stood traumatized in the hospital room while urine sprayed wildly across the floor. “This could cause a young, single guy to escape to a hermit’s cave far away in the wilderness.”

He was trying to make me laugh, and the remark eased my grief. I was almost 50 years old and recuperating from a medical procedure to fix my collapsed bladder. (Stress incontinence is another challenging physical dilemma for midlife women.) The catheter remained attached to my body, but the end had slipped from the collection bag and the errant tube was squirting around the room. I had faint memories of my toddler son doing the same action several decades earlier; however, he laughed, and I did not.

“Why me?” I wailed in total humiliation as I grabbed for the offensive hose and shoved it into the bag. “I’m going to take a shower and might drown myself.” “I’m sure you’ll do the same for me someday,” he said as he reached for some towels and proceeded to clean the mess. “Could you get a fun nurse’s costume?” I laughed and asked him to go find some chocolate and wine. “You probably shouldn’t have any alcohol,” he warned. “You’re on some strong medications that don’t mix well with wine.”

“The party is over,” I answered. “I only agreed to this operation because I was tired of wetting my pants whenever I laughed. Now I can’t have a glass of wine and enjoy some good jokes.” “Should I get some adult diapers, too?” We both laughed. That mutual reaction is what we call making the most of midlife marriage.

A solid marriage makes it easier to handle all the grief

Marriage at midlife doesn’t guarantee total bliss, but we’ve discovered that laughter is better than breaking something, trying drugs, or running away to join a chanting group in India. Every morning I read online reports of treachery, debauchery, and ghastly evilness, and that’s only from the local garden club. A solid marriage makes it easier to handle all the grief, angst, and pure nastiness swirling around us. At the end of the day, we escape all the noise, sit together, and talk about life. And, now I can laugh out loud without wetting my pants.

Middle-aged people know marriage can be the reason they’re happy or miserable. Here are a few suggestions for causing a midlife relationship to endure.

Have a sense of humor

I don’t recommend having bladder problems with someone who can’t make or take a joke. At midlife, many of us encounter a variety of health issues that can strain relationships as our bodies start to betray us. Bladder prolapse ranks high on the list of unpleasant realities. Through it all, try to keep laughing and create a game of listing all the reasons why “It Could Be Worse.” Remember the quote from humorist Erma Bombeck, “He Who Laughs, Lasts.”

Accept the naked truth

At midlife, most of us don’t look as good naked as we did in our twenties. Gravity and sunlight can be punitive, and it doesn’t matter how hard we work out, eat salads, go under the knife, and consume multiple vitamins, we often look and feel older. But, that’s okay because we are! Maybe someday all the anti-ageing warnings in advertising will stop shaming us for getting older and still being alive. The focus should become pro-ageing celebrations. We probably won’t wear a bikini this July, but we’re delighted to enjoy another summer.

It’s party time in the empty nest

After the last child moves away, many middle-aged couples realize they haven’t been alone together in years. The new empty nest is the perfect place and time to reconnect without catering to children. Finally, you can enjoy a candlelit dinner for two and then sleep naked with the bedroom door unlocked. Try that tonight.

Honor and encourage individual activities

I enjoy taking trips to visit friends, see favorite places, or attend writing conferences. My husband encourages me to have fun, and I do the same for him.

Schedule play dates together

Don’t be too busy to enjoy time with each other and find activities you enjoy. We golf together, even though he’s much better than I am, and he joins me for concerts and plays when he’d rather be golfing. Our only standing rule is to avoid crabby people.

Keep the music playing

We usually end the day on the patio with an adult beverage and listen to our favorite playlists. Music enhances the memories, and we continue to update our favorite songs.

Finally, to make the most of midlife marriage and beyond, watch older couples together. You’ll see many who don’t communicate and others who look bitter. Don’t become those people. Other couples look, talk, and dress alike. Don’t become those, either. Choose to emulate the ones holding hands, making regular eye contact, and enjoying public displays of affection. Assume they’re married to each other. Midlife marriage can be the best time of life.

 

 

 

Everything is Upside Down

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When my wee granddaughter was a year old, her favorite pose was to poke her butt in the air, place her head on the floor, and look back between her legs. This position is best executed by little people who are close to the ground. I tried it once but strained my back, ripped my pants, and fell on my face.

It’s tempting to try this pose again because everything seems to be upside down, and what once was considered strange and inappropriate is now accepted and even celebrated. Here are some perplexing examples of news stories that hurt my brain and cause me to mutter (more than usual.)

Recently in Boston, a man dressed as Elsa from the movie “Frozen” helped push a police vehicle out of the snow. At least he was braver than the man in Portland, Oregon who frantically called 911 because his cat scared him into cowering in a bedroom with his family. The man was paid to tell his terrifying tale on a television entertainment program, and the cat is in therapy. I live with a Marine who could strangle a ferocious beast with one hand without spilling his gin and tonic. And I’m thankful for that fact.

In a related story about a new product, when the killer cat dies the owner can memorialize the feisty feline by having its nose molded into a sterling silver necklace. This lovely tribute is available for dogs, too, and can be found at several online stores. The precious pendant costs a few hundred dollars. I don’t socialize with any friends who wear animal noses as jewelry.

Then there’s the news about former actress Heather Locklear almost biting off the tip of her boyfriend’s nose during a domestic dispute. Maybe the boyfriend should enlist the help of Angelica Velez of Brooklyn, a tattooed sideshow star who was interviewed about her unique and enviable ability to hammer nails up her nose. You can bet your sweet hammered nostrils that she would organize and sell tickets to a cat fight between the nose-chomping girlfriend and the notorious kitty.

She’s probably not part of a peculiar group of lonely women who choose to marry inanimate objects. I read a report that a woman in Florida married an amusement park ride she named Bruce because she experienced special feelings while riding it. (And who doesn’t? But we don’t marry the things!) Women also have married other items, including the Eiffel Tower in Paris and the Berlin Wall in Germany. There’s not a single chance of biting off body parts in these relationships.

Finally, I’m stunned by the “too damn many lawyers” story about the teenage girl suing her parents for child support. Too bad that sweetheart hadn’t met my father. If I had tried that, I would have been given a one-way ticket on the next bus to Brooklyn to live with a tattooed woman and watch her paint with her nose.

I’ve decided to stop reading news bulletins because they clutter my brain with disturbing images and confounding details. I’ll just focus on things I already know to be weird, irrational, and irrelevant. The US Congress comes to mind.

Today’s blog was fueled by a Sebastiani Cabernet from Sonoma County. Enjoy a bottle or two and then you’ll be able to strike a downward facing dog pose to get a balanced perspective on our weird world.