Ode to Waxing Leg

This Ode was written by Bobbi Rankin

Bobbi's Legs in Maui

Legs, it's your turn....

your turn to do something you've never done before.

You faithfully have taken me to many places,

you've never let me down.

Yes, we've done much together.

Now it's your time,

your turn,

I'm going to wax you for the very first time!

Yes, can you believe it?

We’re going to Maui

the goal is to be smooth, soft and above all

hairless.

There again not wanting to be a slave to the razor,

familiar theme?

Every one of those pesky hairs will be gone by bedtime.

I've set it all up

I've exfoliated

I've dusted with cornstarch,

heated the wax,

sitting on the floor with newspaper all about

let’s get it done!

Ooouch!

Hot wax!

Ok, clam down and do the job,

can't see the backside of my legs…

apply, pull, pile the hairy wax out of the way.

I'm getting it,

actually pulling those hairy suckers out,

be gone you pesky hairs!

FINALLY

I think I'm done.

I jump up, elated, but oh,

I realize wax is still stuck to my legs

wax is under my fingernails

wax is on the floor.

AND what else do I see?

Hairs sticking up in defiance?

where are my tweezers?

After all the goal is to go to Maui with hairless legs

even if I have to pull ever last renegade out by hand!

Mission accomplished

the goal is completed,

now you smooth legs you can proudly carry me to Maui.

I think next time I'll pay to have this done....            

I'm off to bed.

Ooohhhhh ….the sheets feel so good against these hairless legs!    

photo by bobbi

TECH Thursday: How to Change your Facebook Cover Photo

     by Shinazy

Two weeks ago in the Tech Thursday story titled, Facebook Timeline Is Coming, I mentioned that my favorite word related to the Facebook Timeline was the word HOVER.

To create or change your Timeline Cover Photo - the big picture that splashes across the top of your page - you must HOVER in the area where the Cover Photo would appear.

• In the Cover Photo area you will see above the  Update Info Activity Log  a box that reads  Change Cover
• Click on the upside down triangle 
• You will then see
• 

• If you select  Choose From Photos, these are pictures you previously posted on Facebook  

OR

• You can select  Upload Photo, which should take you to where you saved all your pictures on your computer

Once you selected / uploaded the picture you want for your Cover Photo you can move your photo Up and Down to position how you want it to appear to your friends.

• Put your curser on your Cover Picture and hold down your mouse button, then move your mouse up and down, your Cover Picture should move

• Then click   Save Changes

Voila !    You now have a great big photo displayed on your Facebook Timeline.

Have fun with this feature.  I change my Cover Photo to match the picture used with each BOBB story.  So, if you watch my Facebook Timeline Cover Photo it will let you know a new story has been published on Bitchin’ Ol’ Boomer Babe  http://bobbblogg.blogspot.com/

Let me know if you need help with any of the Facebook Timeline features; I'm here to help.

photo by stoneysteiner

WISDOM Wednesday: Botox® to the Rescue!

  This story was written by Malati Marlene Shinazy

My mother had a few warnings that resonate continually in my mind like humming birds dive-bombing past my head on their way to the feeder:

#1.  If you laugh all day, you’ll cry all night!

#2. Put on sunscreen or you’ll end up looking like an old leather purse!

#3.  Keep frowning like that and your forehead will stick in that position!

Many of these warnings were meant to scare us children into one behavior or another, so we generally ignored her.  Little did I know, however, that genetics lends some credence to caution #3.

Recently, Shinazy, BOBB’s publisher and my sister, wrote a story proudly promoting the secondary use of various tapes for reducing frown lines.

“Ha!” I thought, suddenly envious, “Easy for you to say.”

“While we both inherited extraordinary breathtaking beauty and brilliant minds (place smile here); you inherited most of the best genes in our family“:

·         “You are the marathon-running-every-continent-on-earth sister.”

·         “I am the sister who, like our grandmother, trips over small twigs and pebbles.”

·         “You are the sister who has hardly-worth-mentioning salt-and-pepper hair.”

·         “I am the sister with super-wide silver streaks at my temples -- resembling a skunk ready to ruin everyone’s day.”

·         “And, while you can joke about those itty-bitty lines between your brows that you affectionately refer to as wrinkles,”

·         “My brow creases would need surgical retractors to hold them apart.”

I’m not sure my mother’s warning that my tendency to chronically worry and frown as a child, adolescent, young adult, and older boomer would force the corrugator supercilii and procerus muscles to fix into permanent contractions.

To me it hardly matters.  When my staff kept asking me if I were angry or upset upon arriving at the office first thing in the morning – after I’d had a great night’s sleep, peace-inducing meditation and a satisfying cup of coffee, I started my hunt for Botox® Cosmetic.

Now, periodically, I invest in a Botox® treatment -- the savior of genetically compromised sisters.  I advise the younger members of our family to entrust their foreheads only to professionals like a Registered Nurse at a Board Certified Dermatologist or Cosmetic Surgeon’s office --- I have found that these specialists unfailingly inject the Botox® in such a precise manner, it removes involuntary scowl lines, yet still enables me to animate my face -- unlike many celebrities we know who sport a fixed-expression countenance after their Botox® treatment.

And, I give thanks to all those scientists who discovered at least 20 medically critical uses for Botox® before they found its benefit for people like me, a boomer who wants to look happy and cheerful whenever I am happy and cheerful.

My sister may have a few genetic advantages.  I have Botox® Cosmetic.

_  _  _  _  _

Please Note: This story is the personal opinion of the writer. She was not compensated by any product or service provider. 

MUSIC Monday: Evolving Taste in Songs

This story was written by Toni Duldulao

I grew up during the 50s when Elvis was the King of Rock & Roll.  I knew all of the words to all of his songs and still do.  Good memory?  No, in those days it wasn’t hard because the lyrics were extremely repetitive.  After all, what is so difficult in remembering: “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time.” repeated at least four times in a twelve line song?  Thankfully, as I grew older my taste in music evolved too.

Post Elvis, Broadway musicals were being made into feature films.  I became a devoted fan of songs from West Side Story, The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, and The Fiddler on the Roof.  Funny but I don’t remember the lyrics to my favorite songs.  It seems that that the older I become the less reliable is my memory.

There was a saying among my age group:  “If you remember the ‘60s you weren’t there.”  My problem is I do remember the ‘60s because I wasn’t there.  I was in the convent.  My songs in those days were religious ones in Latin.  I don’t remember those either.  Maybe it was divine providence that my taste in music gravitated toward the classics because it is usually just instrumental and without lyrics.

When I looked through the list of singers and groups from the ‘70s, and ‘80s I recognized names but couldn’t tell you what they sang.  Actually the only singers I really remember from that time are Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond, but don’t ask me what were my favorite songs because I don’t remember.  Although I do remember Streisand singing some song with Neil Diamond complaining that he didn’t bring her flowers anymore.

What I can’t forget (and would like to) is later on there was a “new sound” called Punk Rock or Hard Rock and Rap.  “New sound?”  My heavens no, to me it was just awful screaming, instruments playing off key, and speakers turned up so high that the vibration moved them 5 feet with each beat of the “song.”

Now some sixty years later I have fun listening to an occasional Elvis, Streisand, Diamond, and classical music, but for the last few years my HEART HAS GONE COUNTRY.  Not long ago a friend asked me why I would listen to that “stuff.”  I don’t know but maybe it’s very similar to the old rock and roll AND I can understand the words being sung because they sing slower and use words and terms I understand.  However, other than the latest hit “Red Solo Cup” which is a repetitive song I don’t remember the lyrics except for the chorus…if I’m lucky.  

- - - - - - - - - - 

Toni,

 When I was 10 you introduced me to music  - you were crazy about Elvis. We sat in your room for hours watching the little black plastic circle go round and round on your new phonograph.  Now it ‘s my turn, let me introduce you to Everlast, a rapper whose music is influenced by the blues. Then there’s the Punk band, The Clash (they too have easy to remember repeating lyrics.) And, a favorite of mine, Metallica; their song ‘Bleeding Me’ is as soulful as any country tune.  Check out these bands on itunes and let me know what you think of the New Sound.

~  Shinazy, founder of BOBB

photo by shankar, shiv

FOLLOWER Friday: An Invitation to Write

   This story was written by Sheri Robinson

Ever since I can remember, a journal has been a major necessity in my life.  A collection of raggedy, spiral bound notebooks had to be on tap at all times.  Like toothpaste, toilet paper, and deodorant, it was something I could NEVER do without.  Over the years, the notebooks were upgraded to beautiful hard-bound journals of blank canvas – lined or not – that promised to receive - without judging or interrupting  - my every thought, prayer, emotion, dream, anxiety, fear, and yes, my actual tears.  They were filled to the brim . . . brimming over with “Me.”  They were frayed to the point of duct-tape and rubber band repairs.  They were cherished friends that I could always reach out to, any time of day or night.  And as the years rolled by, my journal “friends “ transcended from therapists to counselors to mentors to surveyors of dreams and platforms for voice and thought.

Though the pressures of motherhood  and career became more complicated, my eyesight not as sharp as years before, and my handwriting more time consuming and less legible,  my ever-present, ever changing thoughts, experiences, hopes, and dreams still continued to expand and fill my mind, dive-bombing in and out like birds attacking mosquito larvae in still pools of water. 

It became absolutely necessary to empty my head… before I changed another diaper, cooked dinner, finished that report, started another diet…before real life crowded into those sacred storehouses of “me,” and pushed them aside.  Eventually,  my journals transformed into “lists” scattered and hastily written on  random scraps of paper – old envelopes, the back of receipts, the inside of empty Double Mint gum wrappers – anything I could find within the contents of my purse. 

(As fellow multi-taskers can attest, there is nothing worse than the feeling that you were supposed to do…are supposed to do… something…really important…but you can’t remember exactly what it is because… you forgot to write it down; you simply stored it somewhere in your already-crammed memory files of to-do’s, tomorrows, and yesterdays.  It haunts you for minutes/hours/days until an unsolicited trigger – a smell, a sound, a random thought – jolts you into full remembrance of what that something is…or was.  The impact of that realization is like falling asleep on a bus, and the feeling of gratitude that comes when you wake up just before the driver arrives at your stop…or the sinking frustration of waking up after the driver has passed your stop…three miles ago.  I’ve had both the fortunate – and unfortunate - experience of both.) 

Soon, I found a neater solution: my journals became the virtual (but printable) pages of Microsoft Word, onto which I would pour both my thoughts and lists.  Keyboards replaced pens and pencils, and a thought that took 20 minutes to write down now only took a few tap-tap-taps...and viola!

Then Life changed…Again.  Fast forward to today.  At the present, the mental demands of a career do not compete for my full attention, and my multi-tasking has gone from cerebral.  (reports/meetings/filings) to physical (sewing/cleaning/unofficially designated carpool mom.)  As far as motherhood goes, one baby bird out the nest, one left to fly.  And all my lists…what lists?! 

I’m writing, again…armed with a host of new experiences and wisdom to fill at least a dozen journals. 

And, Babes, have I got some things to share with you!  Stay tuned!

photo by Rennett Stowe

WISDOM Wednesday: Recycling In The Days of Old

   This story was written by Malati Marlene Shinazy

When my oldest kids were in preschool and primary grades, many weekends were spent at the  playground, going up and down slides -- for hours. Then never missed a weekend.

They also never wanted to miss a periodic family ritual.  We lived in a part of the US that had just begun recycling.  Our recycling center consisted of four giant igloo-type structures placed dead center in a huge empty parking lot.  Two igloos said, “Glass.”  Two igloos said, “Newspapers.”

Going to the recycling center was an enormous undertaking.  We collected newspapers and glass bottles for weeks.  When we finally had sufficient quantity, we loaded all this stuff, two young kids and an infant into the station wagon.  We drove forever because our so-called recycling center was in the light industrial part of the closest Big City (not very close).

What was totally, 100% entertaining, however—and well worth all the effort it took to get there — was to watch my kids conduct the Recycling Ritual.  Those huge igloos were so tall, steps and a platform were built around them so that stalwart recyclers like our family could reach the 7” recycling hole at the top.

So, up my kids went, a glass bottle in each hand.  Then, poised oh so carefully over the 7” hole, they would take turns throwing a bottle, with all their might, into the igloo.  With the loudest, violent detonating blast of glass crashing onto glass, the bottles landed…  The kids would burst into peals of sustained laughter that were almost as loud as the recycling blasts!  It was contagious; even the baby would break into screaming laughter.

·         Bottle In!

·         Crash!

·         Explosion!

·         Three Children Scream With Delight! 

·         Second Bottle In!

·         Crash!

·         Explosion!

·         Three Children Scream Even Louder With Delight! 

And so it went, for clearly thirty minutes, while their dad and I struggled to stuff weeks’ worth of thick newspapers into itty-bitty igloo holes.

I have to admit, this was indeed an odd pastime for a young family that tried to eschew violence (with obvious varied degrees of success).

Recycling = Violent Explosions + Fun and Laughter

Today, even in the smallest hamlets, recycling has become quite civilized.  It is now pedestrian – and - thought-free.  Children interface with recycling by spending their weekends going up and down slides in playgrounds made of recycled flip-flops.  We fill up city-issued recycling containers, roll them to the curb and voila, away go the “office paper, newspapers, cardboard, phone books, magazines, aluminum & tin cans, glass & plastic containers (except polystyrene).”

Yes, gone are the days of schlepping station wagons full of a pack-rat’s bounty of newspapers and bottles to remote places to hear young children take primal pleasure in aggressive, and LOUD, planet-saving….  What’s totally perfect, however, is: 

This recycling story is now on Bitchin’ Ol’ Boomer Babe and gets to be recycled - forever.

photo by Malati Marlene Shinazy

       

Botox ‘n Duct Tape

  by Shinazy

Granddaddy was a practical and handy guy.  He believed there’s a simple solution to every problem and he applied his philosophy to repairing everything.  Even his gifts represented his viewpoint. 

When I graduated from high school he gave me a toolbox that contained his favorite tools: hammer, flathead and Phillips screwdrivers, and a roll of duct tape.  

He told me that the tape would become indispensible.  At age 17, I thanked him with a smile and when I turned my back, the first of many frowns appeared on my then uncreased, pre-botox forehead.

As the years passed, I carried duct tape everywhere – there is a roll in my car, a roll in my office desk, and another roll in my first aid kit.  It is at the top of my “Things To Pack” when I traveled.  I was thrilled when 3M released duct tape in colors so that some of my repairs could appear ‘fashionable’.  Duct tape is always within reach, so that I can mend the many worn and broken parts of my life.  Yes, duct tape will only patch my worn and broken stuff; the things that make me mad / sad are beyond duct tape’s effective adhesive ability.

And it‘s these mad-sad experiences, these unrepairable events that cause me to clinch my teeth, or droop the corners of my mouth – with the accompanying squeezing of my eyebrows.  When one is a Boomer, one has had decades of eyebrow squeezing resulting in an ever deepening cavern, otherwise known as a Frown Line.  (Here at BOBB we seem to be fixated on eyebrows, so it is no surprise that frown lines would eventually be addressed.)

Now, Granddaddy would not approve of the current remedy for frown lines – Botox – a neurotoxin botulism bacterium protein.  And, I would never tell him that I went for a Botox injection only to discover I’m Botox resistant, not just BXT-A, but also BXT-B.  Oh, joy!  I had no way to iron my frown lines.  When faced with a challenge I’m intrepid.  So, I tried Frownies that “Reverse the signs of aging – naturally!” skin smoother.  I was unable to get that little triangle to stay put, especially the pointy corners.  But they were sticky.  Ah, ha, sticky, what else is sticky?  Tape!  So, I tried Scotch Tape.  But it stuck to my pillowcase and hair better than my frown line. 

There is one final countermeasure – Duct Tape.  I have yet to try it, but I know Granddaddy would be proud that I’m thinking of applying his repair principal and he was right, Duct Tape is indispensable.

photo by Jim J

One only needs two tools in life: WD-40 to make things go, and duct tape to make them stop." ~ G. Weilacher

www.frownies.com