Collecting Mania

What do music boxes, quotes, angels and mugs have in common?

They’re all collected by a person who loves to enjoy them. It’s a mania. Of sorts.

Not that I’m a hoarder, but I’ve always loved to collect things, and I do have collections that have given me pleasure through the years and as a side note, have been lots of fun.


Take the quotes, for an example. They are short, pithy, and pack a wallop of information. They’re well suited to add to the end (or beginning) of a devotional, a guest post, or really, any type of post you want to share. They can be uplifting. They can deliver a punch. They can be hilariously funny yet get your point across. They can be serious giving the hearer/reader some valued thoughts for days to come.



The mugs and music boxes I kind of fell into, in a manner of speaking. We’ve traveled so much through the years, and thinking I needed to buy something for a memorable keepsake, I began gathering mugs from various places, states and countries. Fun for a time.

The music box collection began slowly. Then sometime in my twenties it exploded into a maddening gathering of any and all. Friends and family added to the collection. I didn’t have to particularly “love” the thing; it was just another one to add to the growing number.

After gathering over a hundred, I realized I no longer desired that feverish activity. Slowly I dissolved into a collector who was (is) wiser and choosier. Only those boxes that truly attract my attention, are old, or interesting in some way, are worthy of my cabinets now.



Am I over my mania? Of course not. A true collector maniac never heals from the “disease.” Will I ever begin seriously collecting another item? Doubtful. I'm at the stage where simple/fewer/easier is at the top of

my lists.

But I am doing one thing beneficial :): I’m passing that mania down to my grandsons. Grandson #1 is already showing the signs of “antiquing mania.”

Getting that trait honestly, I’d say!


Question: What do YOU collect?



Carole Brown lives in Southeast Ohio and is always on the lookout for catchy titles and suspenseful plots. The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman, her debut inspirational novel, is a Selah Award Finalist and a ACFW Genesis semi-finalist. The first book, Hog Insane, in her cozy mystery book  series, has recently been released. A companion book for her debut novel (West Virginia Scrapbook: From the Life of Caralynne Hayman), filled with quotes, tidbits of information, recipes and discussion questions, is also available.  She has written five children’s books, Racy, the Rabbit, dealing with character traits, and won two awards for her poems.

Carole has written her whole life as newspaper reporter, editor of journals and newsletters, and research manuscripts. When not penning her own novels, she enjoys mentoring beginning writers and founded a writer’s group called Circle of Pens where she can mentor to her heart’s content. Her passion for serving continues in her secretarial work and coordinator for the state of Ohio with ACFW. 

She and her husband have traveled extensively throughout the United States ministering and counseling. They have particularly enjoyed the western states where they’ve labored with the Native Americans and many other specific places where she gathers folder for her writings. They continue to enjoy traveling, their grandsons, the country life and city lights, gardens, and good food.

Connect with her here:

Personal blog

Facebook Author Page

Twitter

Pinterest

Goodreads

I also am part of several other blogs: 

Stitches Thru Time

Barn Door Book Loft 

And of course on Boomer Bits and Bytes.

Tippy and the Green Grocer’s Truck

In those long ago days just after World War II when I was growing up in rural Vermont, the local folks did not drive to the supermarket whenever they needed something to eat or cook. The Great Depression was still present in everyone’s mind and the suffering and lack that all endured was not forgotten. Driving to town was a treat. So everyone welcomed the green grocer with his weekly visits to rural homes and farms. We all depended upon what fruits and vegetables he found to buy on his visits to Albany’s warehouses.

The green grocer was a nice fellow, always happy to help farmers and their wives climb into the back of his truck to view his weekly selections and buy whatever they needed and their budget afforded. What he didn't expect was our cat Tippy, and her way of inspecting anything new. That’s just what the green grocer’s truck was to her as she was generally out mousing in nearby fields when his truck rambled up our driveway each week.

From where she was sitting sleepily on the old well outside our front door, Tippy saw a little field mouse scamper across the floor of the green grocer’s truck. And that woke Miss Tippy out of her cat dreams. She ran to the truck and jumped up into its rear section where all the week's fruits and vegetables were arranged in careful rows in bins attached to the truck’s side. No way was that little field mouse going to escape our Tippy's grasp.

She chased it around the bins and into a far corner and then she heard the truck’s engine start up as the green grocer backed out of our driveway. There was no time to jump off the back of the truck! Tippy was going for a ride.

She hid in a far corner as the Draffins and then the Rudds boarded the truck and made their selections. Then the green grocer pulled into the Hulett's back yard and Aunt Nellie Hulett came out to greet the green grocer. She had her wicker shopping basket over her arm. Aunt Nellie was prepared to buy broccoli and lemons and as she held a lemon up for a closer look, she spotted Tippy hiding beneath a nearby bin. “Isn’t that Don Norris’ Tippy?” she asked the green grocer.

He smiled as Aunt Nellie bought a bag filled with broccoli and lemons after reaching out for Tippy, whom she scooped up and placed in her wicker shopping basket. Aunt Nellie smiled and Tippy smiled wider. After a call to my father, Don Norris, Tippy was on her way back home to our house, settled in the wicker shopping basket that would be her bed for the remainder of her long life as our cat. Funny, but from that time on, whenever the green grocer’s truck came rambling down our driveway, Tippy stayed in her basket on our back porch. She never ventured near that truck again.

Alice DiNizo was raised in Vermont in those golden years just after World War II ended. She grew up in Arlington, Vermontwhere Norman Rockwell lived at that time with his family. She swam with her friends in the Battenkill River which flowed under the covered bridge that faced his home. Moving to New Jersey over forty years ago was an interesting experience for Alice, who writes under her cat’s name, J.B. But tough old girl that she is, she’s learned to love her adopted state and enjoys writing stories about it. She also reaches into her memory and writes stories about her family and childhood experiences. She lives at the New Jersey shore with her husband, dog and cats and contributes on a regular basis to GeezerGuysandGals.com.

Get Up and Move

Rebecca Carey Lyles

I’m sitting in a chair as I write this, but I shouldn’t be. Why? Because a recent Swedish study concluded we need to move every few minutes to maintain our health. So, I just stood up, touched my toes five times and did a couple lunges. Now, I’m back at it. ☺

The Swedish study, combined with others, found that lack of movement is harmful to our health. Dr. Peter Katzmarzyk of the Pennington Biomedical Research Center at Louisiana State University, says, “Sitting is a risk factor, not a disease. It's comparable to obesity, and it's almost to the level of smoking.” Dr. Joseph Mercola of mercola.com writes: “Mounting research suggests that even if you exercise regularly, you might still succumb to the ill effects of too much sitting.” What are those ill effects? Heart disease, diabetes, kidney disease, stroke, shortened lifespan... Shortened lifespan? Yikes!

For years, we’ve been told regular exercise leads to improved health. If you’re like me, you’re thinking, I exercise every day for at least half an hour. Isn’t that enough? Evidently not—because, as the authors of the Swedish study point out, no matter how vigorously we exercise, that burst of exertion only involves a tiny portion of our 24-hour day. Dr. Mercola explains the problem by quoting David Dunstan of the Baker IDI Heart and Diabetes Institute in Melbourne, Australia. He says the lack of muscle contraction caused by sitting decreases blood flow throughout our bodies, thereby “reducing the efficiency of biological processes.”

I hate to say this, but housekeeping is good for us, as are washing cars, raking leaves, mowing lawns and tending gardens. Your house may be spotless, like mine (just joking…), and your hubby mows the lawn; plus, he takes the car to the carwash. What can we do around the house (or the office) to move our muscles?

Dr. Mercola sets an online timer to ring every 15 minutes. He takes a 30-60 second standing break and may do stretches or squats or posture exercises. If your house or building has stairs, you could run up and down a couple times and do some calf stretches—or heel stretches on one stair. Those with wood or tile floors might slide or skip around the house (or the office, if you’re daring).

Sweep your front porch. Do jumping jacks on your deck. Set your laptop or tablet on a counter and work while standing. Use a door frame to stretch arm and shoulder muscles. Yoga moves and isometric exercises are also great options. Even standing and rolling your head from side to side can be beneficial.

In nonmedical terminology from a nonmedical person, I think the idea is to keep our blood flowing. Remember, writers’ brains crave fresh blood as much as our muscles do. Stand up, stretch, march in place, sit down and write!

SOURCES

http://www.ajc.com/news/lifestyles/health/sitting-too-much-may-shorten-lifespan/nQW8b/

http://fitness.mercola.com/sites/fitness/archive/2013/12/13/sitting-standing-up.aspx

http://uber-facts.com/2012/02/22/every-hour-of-television-you-watch-shortens-life-by-22-minutes/

http://bjsm.bmj.com/content/early/2013/10/08/bjsports-2012-092038.abstract?sid=521f8371-5bde-4946-9207-f1c5d78ce6df

http://phys.org/news199011576.html

About Becky:

Rebecca Carey Lyles grew up in Wyoming, the setting for her Kate Neilson novels. She currently lives in Idaho, where she serves as an editor and a mentor for aspiring authors and as a coach for women transitioning from prison to life on “the outside.” Her most recent book, Winds of Freedom, is the sequel to the award-winning first novel in the Kate Neilson series, Winds of Wyoming. She recently served as an editor and contributor for a short-story collection titled Passageways, which is scheduled to release next month.

About Winds of Freedom:

Winter storms blast across the Whispering Pines Guest Ranch, and a cold wind blows through Kate Neilson’s soul. Despite her pain, Kate’s well-being takes a backseat to the needs of loved ones: her best friend, who’s been ensnared by evil; her failing great-aunt, whose dementia care keeps Kate guessing; and Laura and Mike Duncan, whose ranch and livelihood are threatened by a land-grabbing neighbor.

Connect with Becky:

http://www.beckylyles.com

beckylyles@beckylyles.com

Facebook: Rebecca Carey Lyles

  or Becky Carey Lyles

Twitter: @BeckyLyles

“Bear ye one another's burdens…”

by

Annette Bergman

I have a dear friend named Sally; we go as far back as Kindergarten. She was probably closer to me than my sisters.  She has always been there for me whether I was right or wrong.  Always patient with me, she would say things like, “Have you ever thought about…?” then she would elaborate on my latest dilemma. She gave me choices or ideas about how to move forward and resolve my issue. She has never judged me, only loved and supported me during trying times, and never told me what to do.  Then during the years when we were raising children I lost contact with her.

When, eventually, we reconnected, I asked her how she had developed this sincere and caring trait. “Why do you listen to everybody’s problems and try to help them?”

“It’s because of my sister, “ she said, “she was a lot younger than us. She started having trouble with her marriage and then turned to drugs, and she didn’t seem to want to help herself.  I was getting fed up with her not listening to me and I just gave up and told her to resolve her problems herself.  I learned the next day she took her own life and I have always felt as if she would be alive today if I had kept listening.  So now I take the time because I know what not caring can lead to.”

I can only imagine the pain and suffering she endured after her sister’s death. But shortly after, she became a surrogate mother to her sister’s children and treats each of them with love and respect.

Is this what God is saying in Galatians 6:2?  It’s certainly worth considering: Bear ye one another’s burdens and so fulfill the whole law.”

SEASONS OF CHANGE

Finally, spring is here. The flowers are blooming and the grass is green. It is wonderful to watch all the seasons change. It’s proof that nothing stays the same. Spring turns to summer. Summer to fall. Rich to poor, poor to rich. We all have changes we must adjust to. Some changes we want, others we do not.

However, we shouldn't force change and expect God to bless what we’ve done. We should only make a change based on God's will. Too many times we get tired of our situations and want to do something about it. We aren’t willing to wait for God to remedy things. We want it fixed immediately.

However, one thing to keep in mind is, if it’s not something God wants you to do, it will not be blessed. In order to feel God’s total joy in your life, you must follow him, not the world. Romans 12:2 reads,  Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. We need to live according to God’s word, not the world. Yet, even as Christians, we have a tendency to allow society to sneak in.

Women, as we age, begin to feel old. We get facelifts and breast augmentation just to try to look youthful. But our wrinkles show proof of our lives and hard work. God wants us to glow from the inside out. Showing our love of God should be far more important than our outward appearance.

Some men, as they get older, trade in their wife for a younger model. God doesn't want us to get divorced just because we're tired of our spouse. He wants us to work on our marriages. And younger women eventually end up becoming older women.

I'm not saying you won't get into Heaven if you have plastic surgery or get divorced. But you do lose some of the blessings God has to offer when you do these things based on this world and not on God’s word.

The more we allow God to move in our lives, and the less we take control of the reins, the more joy we will feel. Take a step back from any major decision you have to make and ask, is this my will or God’s. Making Godly choices in our lives can make a difference between living with regret and condemnation and living in joy.

Which would you rather have?

Kathryn J. Bain began writing more than twelve years ago. Her fifth book, Beautiful Imperfection, will be available September 29, 2013. She is the former President of Florida Sisters in Crime and is currently the Public Relations Director for Ancient City Romance Authors. To survive and pay bills, she has been a paralegal for over twenty years and works for an attorney who specializes in elder law. She has two daughters and a dog named Gretchen. Her first grandchild, Hope was born in May, 2013. Kathryn grew up in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. In 1981, she moved to Boise, but it apparently wasn't far enough south, because two years later she headed to Jacksonville, Florida and has lived in the sunshine ever since.

Truth From North Central Nowhere

 There are always trends going on in the writing of romance, and right now that’s a good thing for me because one of those trends is toward small-town or even rural romance. In the first place, this makes me snicker, because the definition   of“romance” is fairly absolute—I don’t think small-town or rural people feel one bit different than their urban counterparts when it comes to falling in love.

In the second place, from the vantage point of having spent my whole life in what is often classified (usually by those who don’t live here) as “the middle of nowhere,” I am in the smug situation of knowing the truth about life in a small town—or outside it, as the case may be. Speaking of truth, there are a few that are absolute.

1.   People don’t mind your business in small towns unless it somehow involves them or unless you’re particularly entertaining, rich, or snotty.

2.   Country folks can be smart, educated, and even sophisticated. You can dress well, eat healthy, and pay too much for a haircut. Many of us do not drive pickups with guns in the back windows. Personally, I’ve driven an SUV since 2006, which I consider quite cosmopolitan of me.

3.   We are not all waitresses with bad grammar and hearts of gold or men who sit out in front of the general store and play checkers and spit.

4.   If you’re in a town of less than 1000 residents, don’t talk about calling a taxi—there probably isn’t one.

5.   Don’t say “ain’t.”

6.   Don’t assume that kids in rural or small-town high schools never get to college or know what to do when they get there. They do.

7.   Fort Wayne, Indiana had a population of 254,555 in 2012. It’s fine to refer to it as a small town, but I wish you’d explain to me how it qualifies. I live near Deedsville, population 101—now that’s a small town.

8.   We go to plays, concerts, and movies (first run!). We travel, love our kids and pets, and worship at will.

Those are my truths, and I only write them out in this rather snarky fashion because I’ve rolled my eyes at (and not finished) too many books where the authors didn’t do their homework on life on the non-wild side.

And now there is the other side. There is the fact that sometimes when I write about large cities or even suburbs, I’m not always sure of what I’m saying. What would a city mouse say or do in the circumstances I’m writing about?

          

I think I have a tendency to give city-dwellers less common sense than those of us from the boonies. I make them unable to change their own tires or fix their own drains. I make them less sympathetic to the human condition. Less likely to attend church, cook well, or put together a nice outfit from the thrift shop if that’s what they need to do.

          

Really? I mean, come on, really? And I was being condescending about how country people are portrayed? Makes me think that, as well as sharing the truths I do know, I should pay some attention to the ones I don’t.

Retired from the post office, Liz Flaherty spends non-writing time sewing, quilting, and doing whatever else she wants to. She and Duane live in the old farmhouse in Indiana they moved to in 1977. They’ve talked about moving, but really…37 years’ worth of stuff? It’s not happening! She’d love to hear from you at lizkflaherty@gmail.com

Her latest book, The Girls of Tonsil Lake, is available at online retailers and from her publisher, The Wild Rose Press.

Life is short!

I'm sure you all know that life is just a blur as we pass through it. From one day to the next I wonder how we get anything done!

I don't know if I'm the only one who does this, but I just keep shuffling my schedule so I can fit something new in place and then something falls behind. And then a day or two, or a week or two later it happens all over again as I realize I dropped the ball and pick something back up, and drop something else. One of the big things for me is that I rarely find time to write anymore!

Is it only me? I don't think so...or at least, I hope not...or maybe I hope so. I don't wish this kind of merry-go-round on anyone!

It's pretty sad that we barely have time to truly live our lives, to enjoy life the way we were meant to.

I'm curious, how many of you enjoy having to go to work every day? I know there are truly some people who enjoy their jobs! (Really, aren't there?) Or who's struggling to pay the bills, even working all the time? Or have a health problem that has no solution except to take drugs for the rest of your life? That's no way to go through life! There has to be a better way!

Well, once again I've added something new to my life, but I'm hoping this will in fact buy back my freedom in many ways - financial, health, and time.

You know what I found out this weekend? 80% of all female millionaires (yes, millionaires) in this country create their wealth in Network Marketing. And for a long time, I've thought those were two dirty words. But my eyes were truly opened this weekend. The opportunity is phenomenal because it's not all about money, but about helping each other!

No, I won't mention the name of the company,  but if you want to know, just leave me a message. I actually rubbed elbows (and exchanged hugs and handshakes) with quite a few millionaires this weekend. And some of these people started out with nothing! It's amazing!

Life is too short! I hope this can inspire each of you to take control of your own lives! God bless you all!

Here's a glimpse of my last published story, A Piece of Heaven. The sequel, Precious Embrace, will also be released June 20th.

Trina Wembly dreamt of owning a Christian coffee house for years –a Godly place where people could enjoy a good meal, and entertainment that was pleasing to God. A Piece of Heaven is that dream, and Trina the star entertainer.

Jared Larou, the construction foreman who helps design and build the coffee house, is a wounded soul with a soft heart, a soft heart that Trina is drawn to.

Trina knows God is the only one who can heal Jared’s wounded soul. Does she have the faith and patience to wait on God’s will – if it is God’s will?

Buy links:

 http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=31_45&products_id=448

http://www.amazon.com/Piece-Of-Heaven-Donna-Snow-ebook/dp/B00D39OSWG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1398650698&sr=8-1&keywords=a+piece+of+heaven+donna+b+snow

I was born and raised in New England and although I've seen much of the country, this is the area I will always call home. I love the change of seasons and the beauty each one brings. There is no place quite like it.

Life is short and I'm taking control of my future! Don't let time pass you by!

Donna

To Live and Die … Where?

        When I was a kid, the decision about where to live was easy ─ anywhere but my parents'house.

        After two years of marriage, the decision became more complex. In addition to needing to live far enough from our parents to keep them from meddling in our lives, we cared about job opportunities, apartment prices, and reducing the time we spent in traffic every day. We hated leaving New York City, but in the late sixties, suburban Maryland met our needs.

        Eight years later, we had two kids and a mortgage. Vietnam and Watergate had left us desperate to get as far from Washington as possible, and we’d discovered that 250 miles from our parents wasn’t far enough. Our first thought was to leave all that as far behind us as possible, but our query to the immigration people in Australia was not well received ─ they already had their fill of disillusioned Americans.

        In the seventies, easterners dreamed about Colorado and California, but Denver didn’t have an ocean nearby, and southern California was…well…southern California. San Francisco no longer basked in the glow of the Summer of Love, it was horrendously expensive, and its traffic was as bad as New York’s. Ironically, our obsession to leave Washington as far behind us as possible took us to another Washington.

        Life in Seattle was wonderful, but after eleven years there, our parents had retired from meddling and we felt the need to be closer to them as they aged. Entering our forties, we were far more career conscious than we had been, and to our utter shock, returning to Maryland was the obvious answer. Despite its unpleasantly evolving climate, high taxes, worsening traffic, and the corrosive effect of being so close to our ever more dysfunctional government, the last twenty-nine years here have been fine. But our kids wound up in California and Florida, most of our friends are moving on, and we’re both retired. Once again, we have to decide where we want to live.

It’s funny how things change. We’re fortunate in most ways. Our forty-nine year marriage is alive and well, our financial advisors tell us we never have to worry about money again, and we’re grandparents. We can go anywhere we want. We can have multiple residences if we wish. We want very badly to watch our grandson (and his future siblings) grow up, but we’ve learned to balance that with never making our kids feels like they need to escape from us.

Now, the decision about where to live has taken a strange turn. It’s starting to look more like finding the best place to die, or at least put off dying as long as possible. Maryland has the best concentration of quality health care in the world. We’re both healthy, and it’s hard to contemplate giving that up, but the seemingly endless winter of 2014 and gradually encroaching arthritis made it clear that this will be a decision year.

Last month, MarketWatch published an article called “The Worst U. S. States to Die In”. Not very grammatical, but informative. It turns out that we live in one of only two states that have both estate taxes and inheritance taxes, and Maryland has the third lowest estate tax exemption in the country. California and Florida have neither, and Florida doesn’t have a state or local income tax. But Florida has swamps and one of the worst health care systems in the country, and California has earthquakes, serious drinking water problems, and a bone-crushing tax structure. California has rattlesnakes and Florida has pythons and alligators, but they both have warm days and miles of beaches.

Why isn’t the choice ever easy?

AlanZendell spent more than thirty years as a scientist, aerospace engineer, software consultant, database developer, and government analyst, writing really boring stuff like proposals, technical papers, reports, business letters, and policy memoranda.  But trapped inside him all that time were stories that needed telling and ideas that needed expression, so with encouragement and cajoling from a loving baby sister he plunged into fiction.  Since then, he has written mostly science and extrapolative fiction with three-dimensional characters.  It’s the things they believe in and how much they’re willing to invest to preserve them that make a story worth telling.  It’s convincing interactions and well-researched credible plots that make a story worth reading. And, of course, like any writer, Alan loves having an audience.  You may find Alan’s books here.

Max and Maisie’s Favorite Rose Bush

      My grandmother, May “Maisie” Berthelson, was Brooklyn-born, Brooklyn-bred and Brooklyn-married, but she moved to Vermont with my parents right after World War II. The Thomas E. Dewey Thruway had claimed the land upon which her cherished home in Ardsley, New York was built. One of Maisie’s favorite possessions was her mother’s rose bush that always came alive in June with little blossoms that were either pink or white. Her mother, Ellen Parsons, had bought the rose bush back in the 1870’s with her first paycheck as a parlor maid.                              

    Rather than leave that beloved planting behind when her parent’s brownstone was sold, Maisie dug it up and moved it with her to the home her husband built for her on Nepperhan Avenue in Ardsley, New York up in Westchester County.  Then in the 1940’s Maisie gave the rose bush one final move to her daughter’s home in Arlington, Vermont . Her tolerant and kindly son-in-law gave her permission to plant her beloved roses in the place of honor next to the garage. He even built a small wooden fence around it and wrapped the stem in burlap late each autumn to survive the cold Vermont winters. Within one season, the rose bush was in full bloom.

   And then there was Max. Our nearest neighbors in Arlington were the Rudds who were the kindest and best people to have living next to us on our old dirt road. Mr. Rudd plowed us out when the snows fell deeply and Mrs. Rudd always remembered us at the holidays with special gifts that we loved. Whenever they stopped at our house for a visit, their beautiful brown boxer, Max, sat politely between them. Max had perfect manners, listened carefully to Mr. Rudd’s commands, but he had a thing for Maisie’s rose bush. When people were engaged in conversation, Max would slip over to the rose bush and carefully lift his leg for a quick “pee”. Mr. Rudd would correct him and Max would look sad and repentant, but the next time the Rudds came for a visit, Max would hurry over to Maisie’s treasured plant and quick take a “pee” before anyone noticed.

     My parents sold their farm in 1980 just after Maisie passed away and I didn’t bring myself to drive down our old dirt road for years after that, but wouldn’t you know it, I drove by my old house last summer and there was Maisie’s rose bush, blooming away, just where she planted it nearly seventy years ago.  The owners weren’t home so I helped myself to a few blooms just for memory’s sake. Why? I recalled that Max had died at the very old age of 15 and was buried with the Rudd’s other pets in back of their farmhouse. I stopped by to say hello to the Rudd’s grandson, now the owner of their farm, and left that bouquet of Maisie’s roses in the spot where Max was buried. Seemed a good thing to do.

Alice DiNizo was raised in Vermont in those golden years just after World War II ended. She grew up in Arlington, Vermontwhere Norman Rockwell lived at that time with his family. She swam with her friends in the Battenkill River which flowed under the covered bridge that faced his home. Moving to New Jersey over forty years ago was an interesting experience for Alice, who writes under her cat’s name, J.B. But tough old girl that she is, she’s learned to love her adopted state and enjoys writing stories about it. She also reaches into her memory and writes stories about her family and childhood experiences. She lives at the New Jersey shore with her husband, dog and cats and contributes on a regular basis to GeezerGuysandGals.com.

My daughters and I love Nordstrom Rack. But when we shop there, I don't listen to their advice anymore. They want me to look contemporary, but have failed to take my middle-aged body into account. 

In the dressing room they laughed at my ugly, euphemistically named "Classic" style panties. "Oh, Mom! You need hipsters."  Well, I used to wear hipsters, back when they didn't subdivide my belly into two distinct rolls instead of just one. 

My torso is shaped like an apple, with the equator where a waist ought to be. When I shopped with the girls, I used to buy too many pair of cute pants that hit below the bulge, with nothing to hang onto. So they slid, and left too much backside uncovered. They were both uncomfortable and unbecoming. 

To fix that problem, one of them talked me into trying Spanx. They're manufactured out of industrial strength elastic that could restrain a large circus animal. It was a two-woman operation just to get them pulled up. And heaven help me if I needed to peel them down by myself. 

Then one day, I let them wander and I stumbled across a rack of pants whose label called out to me. "Not Your Daughter's Jeans."

  They fit my middle aged body without looking stodgy. They advertise "Lift Tuck Technology", a panel across the front that pulls in my tummy. They're stylish and made of good quality fabric in great colors. I like the way I look and feel when I wear them. My daughters approve.   

And each pair makes me laugh. The label says:

How many times do you come out of a dressing room laughing?

Thank you, NYDJ.