I'm sure I'm not alone.  All these headlines, current events, polarized nation situations, that chubby toddler running North Korea, all these natural disasters.  It's hard to turn our minds off at night.  But, I think the biggest question burning in the hearts and souls of every person on this universe and the one that keeps me up at night is what's gonna happen to Crystal Hefner?  With an iron clad prenup and no mention of her in Hugh Hefner's will, her free ride is up.  I'm terrified for her future.

UPDATE:  Hugh Hefner took care of his lady friend after all.  He bought her a home and set aside 5 million for her (according to the media).  I mean, c'mon.  She deserves something for selling her soul, uh hem, I mean loosing her one true love so suddenly and unexpected.   

I have always believed in being present.  You know...in the moment.  Loving each day, loving the evolution of pop culture, loving the time, place and moment I'm in.  I remember in high school my very best friend was into antiques, vintage collecting, swing dancing...anything that was from prior generations.  I vividly remember thinking I certainly have an appreciation for those things, but feeling a very strong commitment to the day and time we were living in.  I felt pride about representing our age and era.  Not thumb my nose at the things my generation brought to the table as "main stream", "unoriginal", or that it lacked the rich complexity & history of prior generations.  Even when she announced the birth of her twin boys, she sent out a family photo set in the 1940's, including the texture and pigment of a photo that had been taken during that time.  I actually felt a twinge of sadness.  You look at that picture and it has zero representation of our current time.  Those boys will reflect on that picture and later years and it will not mark the time of their lives.  For me, I love seeing older photos of my family and seeing the markings of pop culture during that time.  The 70's sunglasses, bell bottoms, afros, Ford Pinto's.  The 80's perms, neon geometrical prints, robins egg blue eye shadow and Pontiac Fieros.  The 90's combat boots, bobs, flannels with floral prints, Geo Prizms and Toyota Celica's (oh how I LOVED that Celica!).  Lay them all together and you can see the chronological evolution of style, manufacturing, color schemes (remember when EVERYONE's house was dusty rose and powder blue?!?!?  If you were alive in the 80's, you know exactly what I'm talkin bout!), hair dos and labels.  Man.  I love that.  Living in the moment gives you a chance to represent the times.  It also gives you a chance to reflect and remember what was going then.    

​Even now, I stay with the times (albeit age appropriate).  Call me trite, I don't care.  I want to evolve like everything else.  I don't want to get "stuck" in an era whether I lived it or didn't.  I may offer a nod to another time, but I will mix it in with current trends.  Steam punk accessories meet clean line tailoring and monochromatic schemes?  Yes, please. 

​That said, I'm not sure what's happening to me.  I am CRAVING 90's music.  It may just be nostalgia and I'm sure it's normal.  I mean, it's normal, isn't it?  I don't want to rewind the clock or discount the music I love today.  But if you get in my car right now, you'd ask me "you going through something?".  Maybe I am,  Maybe I am. 

I wouldn't call my neighbor to dispute my Verizon bill, would I?  NO.  You know who I call?  Take a wild guess.  Because my neighbor is not the appropriate audience to address my concerns.  

​All these clowns taking a knee for the anthem?  Their message has not been received as they intended.  BECAUSE THOSE CLOWNS CONTINUE TO SEND IT TO THE WRONG PEOPLE.  To kneel during the National Anthem is to shit on your brothers, your sisters, your friends, your neighbors, your mothers, your fathers.  The very people who stand side by side with you in your community.  The people who serve(d).  It's as effective as breaking up with Justin when you're trying to get James out of your life.  No.  It's worse.  You are a Judas. 

It's like the whole world has Fibromyalgia of the soul.  A whole nation of people who's neuron transmitters are overly sensitized, overactive and sending phantom signals to the brain.  By the way, if someone says something that doesn't apply to us, then it does not apply to us.  You don't have to get all sensitive and butt hurt over every comment someone makes like it's your call to duty to be perpetually offended and reactive. 

​Earlier this year, I wished a fella on the street a Happy New Year.  He replied "F*CK you and your FAT A**".  Do you know what happened next?  I got a really good chuckle and went back to living my life without another thought.  Do you know why?  Simple.  His insult did not apply to me nor did it affect me.  The problem was clearly his, so Ima let him keep it.  Why would I grab onto that and carry it?  Nah.  That be a ridiculous waste of my time and energy.  I am dumbfounded at the NFL's reaction over a comment they don't believe is fair or applicable.  

I wish the world would cut this shit out.   No one is saying you shouldn't make your voice be heard, we're just saying if you get a horrible hair cut, maybe picketing and protesting outside your Doctors office won't yield results.  It will, however, cause people to question your methods & thought process, making you appear less than bright.  Congratulations, kneelers.   Any point you hoped to make is forever caught in the fray.  KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE.  

Scientologists are rushing to the aid of Texas, Puerto Rico and Mexico.  They have organized massive relief efforts in the areas devastated by natural disasters.  Thousands of Scientologists have volunteered their services, their money and their resources to bring food, water, supplies, clothing, medical care, AND also sending construction supplies necessary to help rebuild.  David Miscavige is personally donating a billion dollars.

​We all know that ain't happening.  Scientology is a fraudulent and manipulative cult.  They would never contribute to the betterment of anyone but themselves.  But for the bargain start up fee of $10,000, your soul, you, too, can start your journey to "enlightenment".  And David Miscavige can buy another yacht to entertain celebrities.  

Post Irma, we're back with power and wifi.  YES! 
So begins the scroll through social media.  Wanna catch up with folks lives and how they are.  Oh, noooo.  Someone I care about is getting divorced.  I'm surprised, but why? 
We all know you can't always believe the image people create for themselves on social media.
I guess the marriage wasn't as picture perfect as it was painted on line. 

​ I notice someone commented "it ain't over until BOTH of you say it is.  Do whatever you have to do, but don't let her go if you're not ready.".  So....the implication is one should stalk, grovel, obsess, possibly terrify the other person & refuse to go on with your life?  Is that right?  Well.  Because I don't know this person, there's no way to gauge the tone of the comment.  I'm holding out hope it's an inside joke.  Because last I checked, if ONE of you wants out, it's over.  That's all it takes.  For ONE of you to tap out.  You don't keep wrestling your opponent when they tap out, the match is over and the referee calls it.  In this case, the judge will call it.  It takes TWO to tango and ONE to bring your parade of social media posts depicting the picture perfect love affair to a screeching halt.  It takes TWO of you to have a partnership, so if ONE is done, the partnership is no longer.  Period.  Who is this clown that thinks it ain't over until you both say it is?  Sounds creepy to me & I pray this cat is not a marriage counselor or life coach.​

If you are a Florida native, you know we don't panic over the storms.  You get desensitized to them after you experience so many storm warnings over your lifetime, only to get a little wind and frizzy hair.  You start to think folks over react.  A lot.  Well.  Here I am, lived in FL my whole life and for the first time I'm rattled.  Irma is massive and so powerful,  I can't even fathom her ability to annihilate.  I have nothing to compare her to, but the panic in the air is thick, tangible and gritty.  It doesn't feel like I'm headed for frizzy hair & an over turned patio chair this time.  Praying for Florida. 

I can't believe I'm gonna share this.  This happened in APRIL, but I wasn't ready to share it with you.  I'm not sure if you know this about me.  What am I saying?!  Of course you wouldn’t know this!   I’m not a gassy girl.  I just don’t poot.  Once in a blue moon with tummy problems, but I’m not that girl that crop dusts people, drops puffs throughout the day or is flatulent.  Even with upset tummy, I manage to get to the restroom to handle my bodily functions.  I'm not a fan of walking into someone's a** and I wouldn't set anyone up to walk into mine.  Now, let's not go crazy and start calling me a classy lady.  It's just puffing one out anywhere I please isn't my thing.  Never has been.  

​My husband & I pull into the driveway at the same time on a Friday night.  I let the dog out in the yard while my husband and I chat in the kitchen about our day.  He's been on a business trip, so we're ready to catch up and relax into our weekend night.  Suddenly, this awful pungent smell starts creeping into the air.  With the dog outside, we know it’s not her.  I tug on my belt and that’s when I KNOW it was ME because the smell got unbelievably stronger.  That belt tug released the dragon.  I am horrified at how intense the smell continues to get.  It’s permeating the kitchen.  I pray it will dissipate and go unnoticed.  Right about then, my husband's face curls and retracts.  "WTF is that?!", he asks.  He checks the garbage, the sink, calling for the dog to see if she snuck back in without us noticing and perhaps could be the source.  He's looking everywhere!  He even opens the fridge to see if maybe something went bad in there.  As he’s doing it, he’s taking huge inhales and asking how is this smell getting worse? I was wondering the same thing as I struggled between understanding how that came out of me and pretending to help him find the source.  It’s like the smell is expanding and taking over the entire great room now.  Admittedly, I suppress giggles every time he inhales and his face contorts in horror, but I’m also mortified.  Together my husband and I are “HORTIFIED”!  Meanwhile, I continue the search for the source right along with him.  A fleeting thought crosses my mind "maybe I should have been an actress?".  Here I am moving stuff around in the pantry, putting garbage disposal cleaner in the sink, acting just as perplexed as he is.  I am perplexed, but not for the same reason he is.  My husband says more than once “well, we know it’s not you, it wasn't me and isn't the dog…what IS that?!”.  He wonders if something got in when we had the door open & crawled behind the stove or fridge and died.  I agree that's quite possible; we are bad about leaving the garage door wide open (give this girl an Oscar!).  We edge the appliances out just far enough for one of us to peek behind them.  My husband says "huh!".  He really thought we'd find a decomposing creature.  Sorry, babe.  I'm cashing in on my clean record and taking this one to the grave.  The next morning as he leaves for work, he suggests I check the deli meats in the fridge to see if they've soured.  He doesn't believe we checked that last night.   I agree I will.  With that he kisses me good bye and I know I can't possibly confess.  He can't know I'm capable of producing such a smell.  

Guys!  Toxic, rancid, GOD AWFUL smell.  Here’s the thing I realized as I made my acting debut.  I recently got turned onto shaved brussel sprouts and made a HUGE salad.  Almost as soon as I'm done making it, they call my husband out on business.  I’m not about to let it go bad with all that feta cheese, cranberries, apples, real bacon chunks, walnuts and yummy raspberry dressing.  What's a girl to do but eat brussel sprout salad for EVERY meal & any time I wanted a snack.  For 2.5 straight days, the only nutrition I consumed was brussel sprout salad.  I have not eaten it since.   

Our secret.  😉