LIFE ISN'T FAIR

Life isn't fair, is it? But, as I was once told, I wasn't the one who will be judging what is fair, that is up to God.

But in the meantime, I have a few things I'm currently grumbling about.

One of my son's lost his job. This was after he was offered a job last year by another company and his employer matched the offer because, "We don't want to lose you." Now, I ask you, in what universe is this fair?

I ate a bunch of Halloween candy--don't ask. Those in my strictest confidence know and they will not tell, not even if threatened with death--okay, maybe they will tell if threatened with death, so I will fess up so they won't have to. It was a lot. And now, the pants that were getting too loose to be comfortable TWO WEEKS AGO! are now too tight to be comfortable. Now this is not fair. What nation has a holiday where people are supposed to spend a horribly large amount of money on something that is bad for children, and then the kids ring the bloomin' doorbell until the people inside would like to tear their hair out, and so in anticipation of the future frustration one of the future frustrated people eats the candy before the kids have a chance to beg for it? Not fair, I tell you. The kids should beg for toothbrushes and pencils and apples. (I hated people who gave toothbrushes and pencils and apples when I was a child and so did my kids. One of them, and maybe more, are still holding "pencil" grudges.)

In what universe is insomnia a good idea? Not this one. When I have it I feel guilty and when my child has it I feel guilty for passing on the gene--along with the underarm perspiration gene. How is that fair?

Beauty is a wonderful thing but at a certain age--obviously the exact age I reached three days ago--it is gone. Not only is it gone but in it's place are things that obviously belong to dogs like droopy eyes and Shar-Pei wrinkles and chin hairs and whiskers and gas and... I'm telling you, it's not fair. Old age is bad enough, how is becoming ugly going to make it easier? (Are you listening from Heaven, Mom? I'm sorry I said your wrinkles were beautiful and that your alligator skin on your arms was interesting and I'm sorry for the fun I had with the skin on your hands that I pinched and pulled up to watch it not return to where it belonged for thirty seconds...well, Mom I'm really sorry. I hope you look like you did when you were twenty and the most beautiful woman alive. I've seen your photos, I know it's true.) Anyway, how is all that stuff that happens to women fair? Especially when men's wrinkles (if they even have them) just make them interesting and grey hair is sexy and no hair at all is sexy too? What bald man is given a second look because he is bald? But if a woman is bald we will walk backwards for half a block gawking at her. Not fair, I tell you.

There are a plethora of other things that are not fair today but since it is already tomorrow and that means the insomnia gene has kicked in I'm going upstairs to wash my ugly face and brush out my thinning hair and take off my too tight jeans and worry about my son and then I will say my prayers and be thankful for all my blessings and realize that there are many.

Until next time. May old age never, EVER catch you. I'll try to hog-tie it and keep it here but because I suspect I'm getting a bit of arthritis in my hands and don't have the strength I used to, I'm not promising anything. You better run. I'll tell old age you went the other way.

GOING TO GO LIVE IN A CAVE NOW

Tonight, sitting at the computer, doing what I ALWAYS do--it's my hobby, actually--I was plucking randomly with tweezers--I found a chin hair stray eyebrow, fully one third of an inch long!

Actual photo of me, taken an hour ago.Now I ask you, what is wrong with my friends that they didn't say something about it? What was wrong with my husband's eyesight? What was wrong with my mirror--my MAGNIFYING mirror--that I didn't even know it was there?

I am going to go live in a cave now as obviously a chin hair stray eyebrow THAT long has been seen by everyone on the planet. It was probably visible from space. ET is probably laughing his little bald head off about it right now. I hope he chokes on his Reeces Pieces. Bitter, you think I'm bitter? Okay, maybe just a little.

Send future mail to the mountain. I'll write back with charcoal on a piece of bark.

PS And send moustache wax.

FUNNY THINGS I SAW TODAY

One of the first things a young boy wants to learn to do--once he learns he is "a man"--is to learn to spit. Have you ever seen a youngster trying to spit? There is no way I could describe it, spit dribbling off the chin, and all. But soon, too soon. they have mastered the skill and, it seems, it never departs.

As evidenced by the retired gentleman I watched today. He shuffled to the mail box. It took a while. Just before he got there--I was now thinking of him as a dear old soul--he spit. So much for the dear old soul, bit. Wow, could that old feller spit.

We drove to Salt Lake today and on the freeway we passed a plumbing van. I was bored and so read all the things written on the back. Just as it got interesting and I was reaching for my camera he took an exit. Here's what it said: "Courteous, Clean, No surprises. We wear belts. Cash back if you see a crack."

This is on my cookbook blog tonight. It was very tasty. Everyone at dinner pronounced it good. And if you are into food storage, most of the ingredients are things you can have in your pantry/basement/bomb shelter or under the bed. Where is your food storage kept?

Mexican Casserole.

PS I couldn't do without tweezers. I explained in the Mexican Casserole post. It is one of the four things I hate about growing old:

1. A turkey gobbler neck

2. Eye Boogers (Do you remember that comic strip in Bloom County where they called Eye Boogers "the great social equalizer?" One of the characters--was it Opus?--said, "even the Pope has them."

3. Dirty eye glasses

4. And chin hairs.

But I should have added #5. Bat wings. Every woman over the age of forty knows what I mean. If you know a remedy please let me know. I could probably sail a good distance.

THINGS I DO WHILE WAITING FOR MY COMPUTER TO GET OVER ITS TANTRUMS

I pluck various hair in various spots on my face. They are black. They have no right to grow there. They must go. “I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows." (Janette Barber)

I sigh.

I paint my nails.

I press Alt-Tab.

Because I pressed Alt-Tab, in a sloppy angry way, I have to repaint my nails.

I drum my fingers on the keys.

I floss my teeth.

I get up and clean the cat box, thinking that by the time I get back the computer will be over its temper tantrum. Usually it is still holding its breath.

Because I cleaned the cat box with wet nails, I repaint.

I watch a rerun of "House."

After House has saved the person from leprosy or some other interesting disease I come back, and if the computer is functioning I have forgotten the story--email--blog and then I sigh and complain.

And then I go to bed. It is 1:00 AM. Or maybe 2:00.

THE CHIN HAIR

I have one pesky chin hair that I can never tweeze. I can't see the darn thing but I can feel it, every day I feel it and every day it feels like a horse hair. Not as long but as coarse. Some days I have to stop myself from whinnying.

I keep tweezers in the drawer of the computer desk and it is a daily ritual to tweeze. I don't want to be one of those women with a moustache. I could wax but then every hair would grow out at the same time. Hair that is going to be waxed have to be a little long before you can wax again. I've seen a plethora of "waxing" women with tiny, very short, bristly moustaches . It's not a pretty sight. So I tweeze daily and hope to not shock the world with stray runaway hairs. But there is one on my chin that I simply can't get. I can feel it but not pull it out. Frustrating. When my daughter, Hillary comes I hand her the tweezers and she takes care of it but she's simply not here often enough and not just because of her tweezing responsibilities. She's just simply not here enough.

This morning I felt Hairy with my finger, positioned the tweezers and pulled him right out! He now resides on a 3x5 card and I am admiring him--not "her," a "her" hair would be soft and blond and INVISIBLE--and I'm feeling the lack of him on my chin with my fingers--smooth and hairless.

It's going to be a wonderful day. How could it not, starting out with such a satisfying chin-hair-removal success?