Undercover Tourist

If I've learned anything in 62 years of living, it's that life doesn't come with a road map.  You gotta be ready for unexpected potholes and detours along the way.  Every day is a journey and if we're wise, we keep souvenirs to remember it by.

 

That's what I've been dealing with the past couple of weeks...chug holes big enough to knock my plans clean out of alignment.

Cat Daddy had been planning on retiring the middle of this year (yes...gasp...we are of that age), but out of the blue, the planned date of retirement was changed...oops. As a result, I've been hurriedly preparing all the paperwork needed to start his pension as well as attending to all the details that go along with it.

In the middle of this chaos, came the startling revelation I'm an almost, but not quite, senior citizen.

When did this happen?

More importantly...how did it happen?

In reflection came another revelation. I suddenly realized my life could be told by the changing of my underwear.

I began life in a diaper and if I'm blessed to live long enough, I'm sure I'll leave this world wearing the same attire.

I progressed to training pants and I'm proud to say I passed with flying colors! 'Course, the older I get and with each little sneeze or giggle, I wonder just how well trained I am. From there it was just a hop, skip and jump to ruffles on my tiny tookus!

SQUIRREL ALERT!
I just have to ask why the term "training bra"? Training pants I get, but training bra? Just what the heck are the girls (BTW...I call my girls Mary Kate and Ashley in case y'all were wondering.) in training for...sit, speak, sit up? If it's shake...they'll learn that quick enough on their own. And don't even let me get started on "foundation garments" or we're likely to be here for days! 

By the time I started school, I was ready for my first set of Days of the Week panties. I'm sure a lot of y'all remember those, but do you also remember wearing Saturday on Monday or vicey versey 'cause mom hadn't done the laundry yet?

SQUIRREL ALERT II!
Why do we say "a pair of panties"? Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't we just wear 'em one at a time? Kinda like a pair of pants, you know? One at a time...although with the abundance of cold weather we've been having here at the North Texas Pole,  I'm tempted to throw on a couple of more pairs for added warmth.

I loved those panties...especially Sunday. They began my love affair with underthings. Nowadays kids are walking billboards, sporting Doc McStuffins or Spiderman on their little tushes. And grown ups aren't any better. We really should get paid for running around with Juicy emblazoned across our rumps!

And then came the '60's.

Peace, love and goodbye Playtex, hello Vassarette.

Young women everywhere...you can thank my generation for mini skirts, hip-huggers and hot pants...'cause with 'em came the need for bikini underwear and the invention of pantyhose.

Be gone granny panties and garter belts!

With the disco years, came the worry of panty lines showing through our tight britches and wrap dresses.  Thus began my years of going commando. What can I say? I was a child of the sixties and had no filters...and obviously no shame either!

The honeymoon years of my marriage included matching lingerie, but that didn't last long before I entered the maternity years.

For both my pregnancies, I paraded around in Cat Daddy's underwear...except when I went to the OB/GYN.  He didn't need to know my dirty little secret. My ever expanding belly itched like mad and I didn't own a single pair of cotton undies, so off to C.D.'s underwear drawer and on with his Fruit of the Looms. I'd love to be able to tell y'all I returned those back to his drawer after the kids were born, but sadly I did not. It was a while before ol' Deb could fit back into her Lily of France frilly skivvies, resulting in her fancy underwear consisting of control tops and panty girdles.

During the child rearing years, I was buying more Underoos and less lace. Sadly, my cotton britches came three to a pack, hanging on a rack at Sears. Temporarily gone were the lovely tables, heaped high and overflowing with silky drawers, trimmed in soft lace. No little satin rosebuds to distinguish the front from the back, only the annoying size tag scratching my hind end.  But all that changed in the '80's with the opening of a Victoria's Secret at our local mall.  It was as if the clouds opened up and a rainbow of knickers appeared!

Victoria and I became fast friends for the next umpteen years.  When the new catalog arrived in the mail, I felt like that kid back in 1959 and the Sears Christmas catalog was in the mailbox. Cat Daddy and I would go to war over who got to look at it first...although looking back...I now question his interest and/or motives!  All I say to that is five minutes ladies...just five minutes!

SQUIRREL ALERT III
One thing you'll never catch me wearing, even if all my undies are dirty, is a thong. I happen to think those things are just plain evil. A thong had to be designed by a man 'cause women have spent the better part of their days trying to keep their drawers from crawling into places said drawers got no place crawling into. Ain't no way this chubby lady is going to buy something designed to hone into...or saw in half...her nether-nether land.

Well y'all...that brings us to the 21st Century and the next chapter in my life. I don't save my unmentionables for special occasions 'cause let's face it...at my age, getting up in the morning is special enough. I love pretty underwear and will wear it until the day I have to slip on my first pair of Depends.  When that day comes, as I know it will, I pray I still have enough wits about me to hot glue a satin rose on 'em. Otherwise, how will I know which side goes in front...and in life as in intimates...that's an all important detail.


 

 

Carpe Diem and Deja Vu All Over Again!

Even though Punxsutawney Phil (not to be confused with Buckeye Chuck) saw his shadow up in Pennsylvania this morning, down here at the North Texas Pole, it is one gloomy day. Wind, rain, gray skies and the possibility of icy conditions are all in the forecast...or so says Evan, my friendly neighborhood weatherman. And just so you know, when it comes to prognostication, he's generally a heap more reliable than some fat rodent sipping on a fountain of youth elixir.

Being housebound, I suppose I could take this opportunity to write a new blog post.  Yes I could and should, but in all honesty, I'd much rather eat the refrigerator. That's the bad thing about cold weather...makes me hungry as a horse. So-o-o, if it pleases you...'cause it sure pleases the heck outta me...and to celebrate the Year of the Horse, I'll be putting on the feed bag while serving y'all up a reheated post from 2012.

Why you ask?

A. It's one of my all time favorites.

B. Yes...I'm just that lazy.

And...

C. Everything and everybody deserves a new day for second chances and new beginnings.

(You Tube)

February 3, 2012...6:00 a.m.

Fall outta bed and make my way into office. Power up the computer amake coffee.

While waiting on said coffee to perk, click on TV to double check if the earth is still spinning and what Evan is predicting weatherwise so I can dress accordingly...socks or bare feet.

Stumble back into kitchen to administer the first of 3 cups of coffee, then head on back to the office for just a few minutes of computer time.

February 3, 2012...8:30 a.m.

Try to get up from office chair, but find my butt and legs have gone numb. Scribble a note to remind me to google this later and find out what might be causing this. I sure hope it ain't the beginning of old age.

Hmmm...find myself wondering on how earth I got that second cup of coffee in my hand...and if  it is somehow tied to the whole numb-butt phenom.

Start household chores by picking up Cat Daddy's dirty socks from where they hit the floor. Smiling to myself at this...just one of his lovely daily reminders of how much he needs me...I throw them at the laundry basket. Score!

Fill sink with hot sudsy water to cram soak dirty dishes from the night before then it's off to make the bed.

Do a multi-task walk-through picking up crap while straightening at the same time. Place vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room in case I decide the floors need a swipe.

Start to kitchen to wash dishes, but remember I need to check e-mails first.

February 3, 2012...10:00 a.m.

Stiffly, get out of office chair and run some hot water into the sinkful of dirty dishes that somehow got cold.

Put on rubber gloves and haz-mat suit to clean bathroom. Clean the three sides of the bathtub that show, wipe off the toothpaste splatters from the faucets (gleam says clean) and disinfect the toilet seat for that oh-so-fresh feeling.

Look at vacuum cleaner sitting in the middle of the floor and think to myself...is it really that dirty?

Fix a little breakfast of Pop Tarts and sit down at desk to eat while checking out new blog posts. I can't afford to lose any time on trivial activities...like adding another dirty dish to the overflowing sinkful I got on stand-by so I dine on a paper towel.

February 3, 2012...11:30 a.m.

Struggle outta office chair and limp into kitchen to find drops for watery eyes. Funny...I don't remember Evan mentioning in his morning forecast including a heavy pollen count. Numb butt, loss of memory, watery eyes...must remember to look this up on WebMD.

Add more hot water and Dawn to sink, but make the executive decision to go ahead, bite the bullet, and wash them to avoid a monster water bill next month.

Look at vacuum cleaner for the third time and have a light bulb moment... floors are clean enough.

My tummy is rumbling, reminding me it's almost lunch time...and I'm still in my pajamas.

February 3, 2012...12:15 p.m.

Nuke a burrito (on a paper towel, natch!) for lunch, grab a coke outta the fridge, and using my time management skills, make a quick stop at the computer to visit Facebook.

(Note to self: How did I not notice earlier that cobweb running from corner to corner in my office. Either that was one busy spider or I need to add "failing eyesight" to my list of symptoms to check on!)

February 3, 2012...1:30 p.m.

Decide to put on street clothes...just in case Cat Daddy comes home early...and give my hair a lick and a promise.

House smells a bit stale, but can't find my new fig scented candles to light. Searching for them is eating up my precious time, so instead, throw a load of whites in the laundry, being sure to add fabric softener.  Ain't nothing like a little Gain to add a nice clean scent to a home.

February 3, 2012...2:00 p.m.

Doing all that laundry has me too pooped to pop. Grab a fun-sized Butterfinger and plop down at computer to re-charge for the next round of household chores.

While waiting for energy level to return to normal, get busy doing some real work...reorganizing my Pinterest boards.

February 3, 2012...3:30 p.m.

Jump outta my office chair and purt near trip myself. Manage to hobble into kitchen to run some water and Pine Sol into sink, having recently discovered it gives the house that "just cleaned" smell...without actually having to clean it.

Clean the glass storm door and hope I don't have any birds crashing into it...again.

February 3, 2012...4:00 p.m.

Realize I haven't checked my Instagram account in the past two hours. Just as I start to salivate over all the beautiful photos, my batlike ears here the sound of a diesel engine forcing me to hit "Save" as Cat Daddy's truck pulls into drive.

Hurriedly shut down all tabs, lurch into the kitchen to throw water on my face to resemble beads of sweat, and notice my britches are on inside out.

Throw wet towels in dryer and almost hang myself trying to get the last wash cloth outta the washer.

February 3, 2012...4:30 p.m.

Greet Cat Daddy with a weary, but loving smile from my day's exhausting work, sit and listen to his re-telling of his day...and try not to yawn.

Watch jealously as Cat Daddy sits in my chair at the computer to check out auctions and estate sales.

Start dinner while discreetly shooting him the stank eye.

Go ahead and put away vacuum cleaner for another day. He never even noticed it sitting there.

February 3, 2012...5:00 p.m.

Take a much needed sit-a-spell to watch In The Heat Of The Night reruns while supper simmers.

Fold semi-dry towels as Mr. Tibbs solves the crime du jour.

February 3, 2012...6:00 p.m.

Sit down at separate TV trays with Cat Daddy and dine in the romantic flicker of The Big Bang Theory reruns. Laugh together at the same hilarious lines...over and over and over.

Make plans with Cat Daddy for the coming weekend to work around the house. Make silent note to self...that'll be the day.

February 3, 2012...7:30 p.m.

Wait patiently as C.D. takes his bath before he heads to bed.

Listen for heavy snoring and sneak into office for just a short visit to Facebook.

February 3, 2012...11:59 p.m.

Check the clock and ponder where the time went, all the while thinking...didn't I just do all this yesterday...and the day before...and the day before that?

Glancing down at the screen, to my surprise, I notice the date on Yahoo shows February 2nd...wha-a-a?

Jump to my feet with the realization...

I'm trapped in Groundhog Day!

Help! I've fallen into a time warp and can't get! 

Change my date and time stamp if necessary...pull my plug...put me in a DeLorean...whatever it takes! Otherwise y'all...I'm trapped in this loop until further notice.

Looking back at this old post, I just realized I'm not as lazy as I first thought!
We've sold every item in these photos. Now that's what I call making hay while the sun shines!

~Hold her head up Pa...she's goin' to the barn.~