In Good Taste

I have a good friend who is absolutely brilliant at wine. He dearly loves fine wines and has introduced me to some beautiful vintages through the years. Drinking wines that he has chosen is always a learning experience because he challenges you to identify the flavors with your eyes closed and your taste buds wide awake. I have actually gotten quite good at nailing some very exotic flavors that are subtle even to the wine aficionado, though I am not one.

I do know what tastes good and what is a lot of hype. For example, I love champagne dearly and a lot of the very expensive ones cannot compare to some that I have had from unknown makers. Magnificent taste does not always come with a high price. There are very affordable wines that are really good. All you need is a sophisticated palate, which is learned, and appreciative and discerning taste buds, which it helps to be born with.

This same friend took me to a Les Amis du Vin (The Friends of Wine) event in our city. This is kind of a fancy group of people who get together and drink and discuss great wine. OK, they don't just drink wine, they have an intimate affair with it. They swirl it, hold it up to the light, stick most of their face in the glass and inhale and then finally let it flow gently over their tongues and then down their hoity-toity throats. It's kind of fun to wait for the expressions that follow. Whether these tastes of the grape bring pleasure or disappointment, it is discussed. The members have their own lingo, so I just listened politely and smiled. I prayed that no one asked me my opinion. By the time I had sat through about three tastings, I was not only clueless as to what they were looking for, but I was a bit tipsy. Anyway, the evening was pleasant, if a little too snooty for me. It got me thinking... are you surprised?

There ought to be discussion groups for tasty pleasures that a lot of people enjoy. And then it came to me in a flash. I could easily lead regular group discussions on a subject that I dare say I am both an expert and a connoisseur. I thought about how much I could add to this world with my vast knowledge, teaching so many so much. I could start my own group and it might grow into international chapters. If people can gather to discuss wine, cheese, cigars and the like, wouldn't it be wonderful to get together and discuss CANDY? That's what I'm talkin' about.

I have loved candy for nearly as long as I have been on this earth. One of the best things about being a kid was when I earned money doing chores and could then ride my bike to the corner store and buy candy. It was always a special treat and it still is. I don't think anyone appreciates candy more than I do. I have had a lifetime to explore all the delicious varieties of candy confections. I can describe the taste, the aroma and the subtle nuances of every one of my favorite candies. Before we go any further, I am not only talking about exquisite Belgian chocolates or Italian nougat or German marzipan which I adore, but the candy every American child grew up on. The kind that is lined up on 3-tiered shelving on a solid aisle of yumminess in every drug store, supermarket and 7-11.

Of course, you can't simply trust the opinion of one person, although I am very qualified in this area. I set out to do research to find out what we all like to eat when it comes to candy. Fortunately I didn't have to dig too hard. USA TODAY did a fabulous job of coming up with the Top 50 Candies of All Time. When I read through the list, I agreed with many, disagreed with some and was downright shocked at others. I am convinced that there needs to be group tastings and discussions to sort this all out. My guess is that many candy lovers never venture outside their comfort zone and end up buying the same thing every time they indulge. Case in point: Werther's caramels came in number 50 while candy corn landed at the top. Number 13! Really? How in the hell did that happen? The Candy Corn Council obviously does a better job than the folks at Werther's. One of my personal faves, Necco Wafers, only made it to number 44. These delicious little discs of flavor that disintegrate into paper thin yumminess give pleasure to the taste buds and the tongue. Yet, Peeps made it to 23rd. place. Very confounding, indeed. Peeps are cute and they sell zillion of them at Easter, but I wonder how many of these fluffy sugar encrusted critters actually get eaten.

Below are the Top 10 candies that sell the most. I agree wholeheartedly with most of them, but if there was a Candy Society to assess the virtues and failures of big sellers, I think the list would change. People just don't know...

10. Hershey Bar. You will get no argument from me. Perfect. And without them there could be no S'mores. Unthinkable.

9. Twix. Not a big deal to me but I appreciate their fan base. Those who love them, love them. Good enough.

8. Butterfinger. Yes, baby! Messy to eat but heavenly.

7. Gummy Bears/Gummy Worms. OK, we have to have to let the kids have a say. I also know that dieters like these because they are low in sugar and a serving is a lot of pieces, I would much rather have a delicious Tootsie Roll Pop (# 15) that satisfies a sweet tooth, lasts a long time and is only 50 calories. If there was a group, you would know that already.

6. Kit Kat. Again, not my thing. More of a cookie than a candy and I am a purist. I know lots of people love them, so I cave to this confection's undeniable popularity.

5. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. A superstar in the candy world. Fabulous!

4. Twizzler's. Oh, come on! I will pit waxy tasteless Twizzler's against soft, chewy and flavorful Red Vines any day. No comparison. Red Vines are way better. This is what happens when there is no group that brings these details to forefront.

3. Snickers. Who doesn't like a Snickers? One of the greatest candy concoctions ever created.

2. Hershey's Kisses. Perfect name, perfect amount of chocolate to make your mouth happy.

1. M & M's. Created in 1941, these scrumptious little candy-coated milk chocolate morsels are at the top of my list, as well. I would rather have a bag of plain M & M's over of a truck load of Godiva Chocolates. That's just how good I think they are. The fact that they melt in your mouth, not in your hands has never mattered much to me. They are never in my hand long enough to get squishy. The DO, however, melt in my jeans pocket in the clothes dryer. Long story.

So, whenever you out there are ready to form a Candy Connoisseurs Club, I am ready, too. There is an imbalance in people's taste levels when it comes to candy and we can change all that. It is up to you and I to set the world straight. Milk Duds only made it to number 32. Very disturbing.

Party On!

They say that postal carriers will brave rain, sleet, snow, and dark of night to deliver the mail. I just did that and more to deliver myself to a surprise party in Virginia last Sunday. One of the people dearest to me turned 80 years old. His beautiful wife gave him a fabulous surprise Sunday brunch at his favorite restaurant. It was an event that dozens of friends and family kept secret for many months despite the fact that many of us are over 50 and can't remember what we had for breakfast, much less remember to lie. You have to be really smart to be a good liar and sadly many of us tripped over our tongues a few times in recent weeks and had to think fast to cover up. Luckily, we made it through and he was speechless when he saw the smiling faces of the sixty people who traveled in the biggest snow of the year to be there. It was an amazing experience and I was honored to attend.

As so often happens with my crazy brain, I started thinking about birthdays. I think they are very exciting but a lot of people don't. I hate it when someone says that their birthday is "just another day". Are you kidding me? That's like saying that the Taj Mahal is just another building. Getting to be another year older should be one of the biggest days of a person's year. The alternative is being dead. I am not planning on doing dead for a long time.

I personally have my black belt in the art of the BIRTHDAY. You know how some people celebrate their birthday for a whole week? I celebrate for an entire month with courteous reminders to my near and dear weeks beforehand as to how many shopping days are left. I was born under the sign of Leo, so the minute the Zodiac goes into my sign on July 23rd, it is officially my birthday until we go into Virgo on August 22nd. My birthday is a big deal to me and so are the birthdays of the people that I care about.

Did you know that more people are born in August than any other month? And more birthdays fall on 0ctober 5th than any other day. February is the slowest month for birthdays. If your birthday is on May 22, then you have the distinction of coming into this world on the slowest day for births.

Do you know why we put candles on a birthday cake? You will know in a minute and if you are ever on Jeopardy! you will be ready if this comes up. The Greeks started the tradition of putting candles on a cake to honor the goddess of the moon, Artemis. The glow of the candles replicated the lunar glow. Pretty cool, huh?

I am especially fond of milestone birthdays which are 13, 16, 21,30,40,50 and 60. After sixty, the milestones come every 5 years—65,70, 75,80 and so on—according to the greeting card people. It makes sense since life becomes more of a craps shoot when you get up there in age. I'm all for it! Birthdays should be fabulous and if yours aren't, you need to make them so.

This article is dedicated to my darling Robert Kamel (yes, you say it just like the animal). You are such a star and you have proven that being kind, helping others, having integrity and a big heart, being a good father, husband and friend plus eating right and going to the gym 3-4 times a week pays off. Did I mention that you are also ridiculously handsome?

Damn, you are too young to be 80!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

A Loss Of Words

My panties are in a huge knot right now. Of course they are LoveFifi.com panties and they will be like new again after I have my say.

Here goes. I met a man at a friend's dinner party. He is attractive, accomplished, very well spoken and unmarried. We talked the evening away and there was truly a connection. It was nice. He asked for my phone number and email address and I obliged. I was surprised at myself. I have mentioned before that I loathe dating, especially that first one. I find going to my accountant for my yearly tax appointment more enjoyable than most first dates. But since the dinner party kind of got all that out of the way, I threw caution to the wind and gave him my contact information. After all, a handsome man with such impressive credentials, a sense of humor, the ability to speak knowledgeably on so many subjects may be the treasure of a man I had given up trying to find.

The next day I received a text message from Mr. Fabulous that said. "How r u? IMHO last night was GR8! I will call u tonight. xoxo PQ". I stared at this damn text in complete disbelief. How could so few words say so much about a person? "How r u?" Really? He is so busy he doesn't have time to write "are you". If he doesn't have time for four extra letters, could he have time for me? Now IMHO baffled me completely. It looked like some new medical insurance category like a PPO or an HMO, but that didn't make sense. Thank goodness for the Internet. I soon found out that it stood for "in my humble opinion" in texting-speak. I got the "last night was GREAT" part without looking anything else up. And he finished up his message by flattering my existence once again by referring to me as "u".

Did some 14-year-old skate boarder kidnap my my articulate and successful new friend, Peter Quigley, and is now writing to me in his stead as some kind of sick prank? This guy earned an MBA and owns a successful consulting firm. He obviously enjoyed my company because he stuck to me like glue and wrote me the very next morning. But this mish-mash of goofy acronyms and abbreviated words left me disappointed and completely bewildered as to how to write back.

I like the English language. I like communication. I don't want to have to refer to some new age cyber glossary to try to figure out what he is saying. I realize that he thinks it's young and techie cute to speak in shortcuts and acronyms, but it really put me off. There are enough acronyms already in our language and for the most part, they make sense. They were created for efficiency not laziness.

Acronyms like these below were totally necessary. Too scientific to remember the whole thing!

SCUBA Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus

RADAR Radio Detection and Ranging

LASER Light Amplification by the Stimulated Emission of Radiation

JPEG Joint Photographic Experts Group

ZIP (Code) Zone Improvement Plan

Acronyms like these are forgivable because they get the point across quickly and are succinct. Very efficient, I would say.

DIY Do It Yourself

ETA Estimated Time of Arrival

AKA Also Known As

TBA To Be Announced

ATM Automated Teller Machine

RIP Rest In Peace

I am not offended when someone asks for my ID, or wants to know if they can use my PC or complains that their car keys are MIA. All are acceptable modern additions to our language. But when some man tries to woo me in a short text by making it even shorter and requires me to decode what he has to say, it makes me crazy. This guy graduated from HARVARD with honors. It so distresses me that people don't realize that taking these shortcuts is not flattering to the person on the receiving end, unless you are a teenager. I am not a teenager and I am going to stick to my infatuation with whole words and complete sentences. And I would also like to mention that many school districts in this country are no longer teach cursive writing. No more handwriting; you heard me.

There is no rhyme or reason to this epidemic of whittling down perfectly easy phrases to type. OK, I can live with LOL. It's cute enough to stay. But if you want to thank me very much, please refrain from typing TYVM. I can guarantee that I put effort into what I did for you and I deserve better. If I made your day better, please don't text me YMMD. It wouldn't feel as good as you spelling it all out.

So what am I going to tell the man who so romantically refers to me as "u"? I wrote to him in a way that is the complete opposite of what he wrote to me. I emailed him for one thing. I started with "Hello Peter". I channeled my Emily Bronte self and wrote lovely, ladylike complete sentences without an acronym to be found. I signed it "Warmest Regards, Fifi"

I've gotten nothing back so far, but my guess is that he either won't "get" it or won't like it. Whichever is fine with me. If he replies to my email and sounds like the man that I met at my friends house, then there may be something there between us. If he sends me another one of those "too cool for school" abbreviations-from-Hell texts, I probably will not ever reply.

Whew... My panties are officially unknotted and I am breathing normally once again.

P.S. If I am ever lost and you are on my search team, if you see this from the air, please disregard everything I just said.

After Midnight

I never thought this would happen to me, but I have become an insomniac. I go to bed after a long day, curl up with my doggies, and drift into a deep sleep. Then, somewhere around 3:07, I wake up. Not the kind of "wake up" where you look around, check out the time, and then go back to sleep. The kind of wake up when you get out of bed and unload the dishwasher. It's annoying.

I am so wide awake and bored. I turn on the TV and try to find something that will lull me back to sleep; I have to get up in the morning and go to work. The wee hours are filled with a lot of wacky stuff on television. I find the reruns of King of Queens and Everybody Loves Raymond hilarious even before dawn. The only trouble is... I find myself laughing out loud and that feels completely weird in the still of the night. And the worst part is that my dogs can't tell time yet and they think it's time to be awake and play. Before I know it, my day is in full swing and the sun is coming up. By the time I have to leave for work, I am exhausted.

This has been going on for months and it is messing with my quality of life. My doctor says that people over 50 don't need as much sleep. I need it, I'm just not getting it. I have tried taking a hot bath before bed and it works great. Until 3:07. Then I am wide awake. I had to stop watching QVC and HSN, because I think I need everything at that time of the morning. New make-up to brighten up my face? Yes, please. A 50-foot hose that shrivels up into a prune to make gardening easier? Count me in! Pots and pans that make cooking effortless and practically clean themselves? GOODNESS, YES! You can talk me into most anything at dawn when I can already feel fatigue setting in and the real day hasn't started.

The television keeps me company when I know that sleep is eluding me. I used to feel guilty and get up and start organizing a drawer or a closet. I would dig stuff out, discover treasures I hadn't seen in ages and then poop out in the middle only to wake up to a big pile of stuff that I would end up just putting back until another time. Sometimes I play casino games on my iPad and that helps make me sleepy. I just broke $200,000,000 on my slot game and if that were real money, I wouldn't have to worry about work ever again.

I have found that just staying in bed is the best thing to do, but it is important to be careful what I watch in the middle of the night. I used to favor shows like Forensic Files and SNAPPED, but those aren't the best going-to-sleep kind of shows for a woman alone. Being scared does not make for sweet dreams.

Speaking of scary, I found myself intrigued with an infomercial as I was scanning the stations a few weeks ago. It was nearly 4:30 a.m. and I was still awake. This blonde woman was thanking her millions of fans for being so loyal for so many years. She was obviously signing off, because she had stopped mentioning whatever the product was she had been pitching. She kept going on and on about all her years in front of the camera and how much she loved her devoted fans. I didn't have the vaguest idea WHO this woman was. I kept watching and listening to her and I wondering who in the hell this person was because I had sure never seen her before. She thanked her television audience one more time and then said the words that horrified me. The camera came in closer and she said "...for Yada-Yada Cosmetics, this is Suzanne Sommers. See you next time!"

Listen, I watched more episodes of Three's Company than I wish to admit, but what happened to my adorable Crissy Snow? The plastic surgery monster got her good, that's what happened. I couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks.

I am still not sleeping great, but I will now wear the bags under my eyes with pride. I'm not changing a thing. Think I'm making a big deal out of this? Scroll down.

Mad About America

You have no idea how much I love the 4th of July. It is second only to Christmas in my heart. The way I spend this holiday has changed over the years, but the memories of the past only enrich the way I feel about it today. During the 300 years that I was married, we almost always gathered with the entire family at my in-laws. My precious father-in-law was a WWII war hero (he was awarded the purple heart) and he especially loved having his family around him on this holiday.

We would bar-b-que and everyone would bring something to add to the feast. The best part, however, was that the city where my in-laws lived still allowed the sale of fireworks. We would all pitch in money to buy the biggest, super-duper-colossal box they made. When it got dark, we brought the patio chairs from the back yard and created a makeshift amphitheater on the front lawn. My mother-in-law and father-in–law sat in the best viewing seats like the royalty they were. It was then the job of their 2 youngest grown sons (one of them was my husband) to put on a fireworks spectacular in the street.

You must understand that these are professional guys (a CPA and a Superior Court Judge) who are the furthest thing from being handy that you can be. They didn’t want to look like sissies or idiots so they both had to suck it up and appear oblivious to possible bodily harm if something should go wrong. They would set off one of the fireworks and then run like hell. The squeals and applause from their loved ones gave them a big dose of courage and by the end of the show they were fearless. It was so much fun and it made everyone so happy.

My beloved daddy-in-law spent his last Fourth of July doing this very same thing. He didn’t eat much that day, but he was all smiles when the 2 Stooges took to the street and began the fireworks show. It was a very special day for the kids and grown-ups alike. Six days later on July 10th, we lost him to cancer. Since then the 4th is still a favorite of mine and the whole family. The people in my world continue to celebrate this great country of ours to the max. My sister hosts the day at her house and we have spent weeks and months planning a day to delight. We are turning her front yard into a water park for the kids. We bought a good sized rubber pool, a Slip n’ Slide, a Water wiggle, squirt guns and balloons to fill with water. Everyone was instructed to bring extra clothes as not getting wet WON’T be an option. There will be amazing food and when it gets dark, we will pull the chairs onto the lawn and watch the magnificent fireworks above our heads. Sister knows how much I love fireworks, so she bought a house near Disneyland so I can see them as often as I want.

I am proud to be an American (and I love love love that song). I celebrate this day with all that is in me. Did you ever think about the things that are purely America?. There’s a pretty impressive list, so let me share some of it. How can you NOT be in total love with a country who is responsible for inventing Rock n’ Roll, blue jeans, multi-culturalism, bar-b-que, and the Internet? And if those don’t make you say WOW!... then try these. All are credited with being born in the USA.

Doughnuts

Harley-Davidson

PB&J Sandwiches

Religious Freedom

Antiperspirant

Jazz

Skyscrapers

Coca-Cola

Baseball

Cheeseburgers

Muscle Cars

Cowboys

NASCAR

Buffalo Wings

Country Music

And of course... Apple Pie

Wedding Bliss

If you read me every week, you know that I went to Las Vegas last weekend for my niece's wedding. It was the sweetest, most precious day. The whole experience was beyond wonderful.

My niece calls me her fairy godmother. I love that a lot and do everything I can to be magical. The couple paid for the whole wedding and reception themselves, so I did what I could to help out. My sister, my daughter and yours truly hauled make-up, hair rollers and a ton of other beauty items to Vegas and turned ourselves into the Glam Squad.

The morning of the wedding, we all plied ourselves with 20 oz. lattes and whipped the bridal party into gorgeous goddesses. It was the most chaotic scene you can imagine. There wasn’t an inch of mirror space in that hotel room that didn’t have at least two ladies curling, powdering or eye lining. We finished on time without a hiccup. Everyone looked amazingly beautiful. It was time for the bride and her posse to leave for the chapel when all hell broke loose. “OMG!”, my niece yelled out. "I don’t have anything BLUE!” She was panicked. It wasn't like the matrimonial police were going to check her for the traditional something old, something new, etc... but we all know that brides want everything perfect. I quickly got a big hand mirror out and showed her that I had added some tiny pale baby blue Swarovski stones to her floral headpiece just in case. She was relieved and I was triumphant. This was not my first rodeo, folks. And that is why I am her fairy godmother. The “something blue” always gets forgotten. I then started thinking about where the whole tradition started.

It derives from an old English rhyme, “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, a sixpence in your shoe." Something old represents continuity in your new life, something new offers optimism for the future, something borrowed symbolizes borrowed happiness that you are taking from brides before you who have had happy marriages and something blue stands for purity, love and fidelity. The sixpence in your shoe(we used a quarter from California) is a wish for good fortune and prosperity.

A very sweet tradition, indeed, but this got me thinking. As I was sitting out the chicken dance at the reception, I pulled out my smart phone and looked up wedding traditions around the world. So while I am still in the wedding zone, let me share some very fun “who knew?” tidbits with you.

1. Queen Victoria started the Western world tradition on the white wedding dress trend in 1840. Before that, brides just wore their best dress.

2. Engagement and wedding bands are worn on the 4th finger of the left hand because it was thought that a vein in that finger led directly to the heart.

3. A groom carries the bride across the threshold to bravely protect her from the evil spirits that might be lurking.

4. The tradition of the wedding cake comes from ancient Rome, where revelers broke a loaf of bread over the bride's head to insure fertility.

5. In many cultures around the world, including Celtic, Hindu and Egyptian weddings, the hands of the bride and groom are literally tied together to demonstrate the couple’s commitment to each other, giving us the expression, tying the knot.

6. In Ireland (I love this one), the presence of bells is very important. The ringing of a bell helps to keep the evil spirits at bay. Irish brides often mix tiny bells in their wedding bouquet and a bell is considered a great wedding gift. It is thought that if a couple carries a bell into married life and keeps it in a safe place at home, they can ring it to stop an argument by reminding them of their wedding day and their vows.

7. Greek brides tuck a sugar cube into their glove because it is said to create a sweeter union.

8. Moraccan women take a bath in milk before the ceremony to purify themselves. I wonder if there are cookies that go with that deal?

See what extremes I go to in order to keep you all informed? I didn’t mind sitting out on a bit of the wedding fun to enlighten you. Actually, I already rock at the chicken dance, so I didn’t need the practice.

Ta Ta for now!

Vegas, Baby!

I am excited about this weekend. My favorite niece is getting married to the man of her dreams (and our dreams, too). He is a doll and we are thrilled to be going to watch the magic happen. These two kids fell in love 6 years ago and have been separated by 3000 miles for at least half of that time. They were each married before and their first responsibilities were to their children, so they suffered through a long distance arrangement and saw each other as much as they could. The stars finally aligned in their favor and they now live in the same city. Saturday is the wedding in Las Vegas and it is going to be fabulous.

They decided to have the wedding in Vegas because they wanted everyone to have a ball. They don’t want wedding presents; they just want the people who love them to be there. It’s going to be wonderful to see these two families become one big family. I will see friends and relatives that I haven’t seen in ages. Because it is Las Vegas, the fun and craziness will probably continue around the clock. You either love or hate Vegas. There is really no in between. I love it.

Las Vegas, Nevada is a pretty interesting place. Did you know that there are approximately 15,000 miles of neon tubing that light up the strip and downtown? Yep, and of the 20 largest hotels in the world, 12 are in Las Vegas. The largest hotel in the U. S. is the MGM Grand. It is also the 3rd largest in the world.

There are over 200,000 slot machines in Las Vegas. More than 60% of all gambling revenues come from the slots. I do my part, I can tell you. The largest slot jackpot ever won was at the Excalibur Casino and was just under $40 million dollars. Lovers love Las Vegas and have made it the wedding capital of the United States. The average number of weddings performed per day is around 315. Plenty of fun will be had this weekend. I can’t wait. There is nothing I like better than mayhem and foolishness. I will be a good girl as I am kind of a junior matriarch in this crazy family of mine. Although it is said that “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”, it does not apply to my family. Our motto is more like “what happens in Vegas will be posted on Facebook faster than you can say Elvis Impersonator." I will behave myself.

Dog Days

Just in case you're wondering, I have pretty much recovered from the plague I had last week. I was sick the entire Memorial Day weekend, but it wasn't bad. I had lots of good quality time with my doggies, who never left my side.

Unless you haven't been listening, you know that I love dogs. Dogs are everywhere in my life and I could not live happily without them. As you also know, we all bring our dogs to work, here at LoveFifi.com, and it is fabulous. We have a big, two story building and the pups are allowed to be wherever they want, with whomever they want. There are dog beds and water bowls everywhere. This is a world I created and I couldn't love it more.

I live a happy life at home with my two babies. I am never lonely because they follow me wherever I go. What's funny is that when you are at the stage of life when your kids are gone, your dogs become your kids. I can't believe I said that, but it's true. Nothing is too good for my dogs. They sleep next to me at night. By the way, 42% of all dogs in the US sleep in bed with their owners. I have little dogs that weigh 5 pounds each, yet they still take up most of the bed.

I know I am perceived by some as a weird dog lady, but I actually wonder at times if I am a little peculiar. I dress my dogs and they look adorable. Listen, if it were odd to do so, then why are there so many places to buy cute dog clothes? Huh? I not only buy my dogs Christmas presents, but I buy gifts for the dogs of my friends. Before you throw stones at me, just know that 80% of all dog owners buy their pets gifts for holidays. And half of that number signs letters and cards from themselves and their pets. So if I am crazy, I am in good company. Speaking of crazy people, did you know that rock star Ozzie Osborne saved his wife Sharon's Pomeranian by tackling a coyote and wrestling it until it released the dog? Ozzie may be a little whack-a-doo to some people, but he is a hero to me.

The most popular names for male dogs are Jake and Max. For girl dogs it's Maggie and Molly. Although there is constant competition for the smallest and the largest dogs, 4" Boo Boo and Giant George are pretty amazing contenders. The oldest dog is said to be an Australian cattle dog who lived to be 29 1/2 years old which is equal to a human living to 160 years old.

My dogs are fantastic company and I couldn't be more content. Oh, I still date from time to time, but the best part of the evening is usually when I arrive home and my two doggies are doing the Happy Snoopy dance and are twirling around madly in circles at my feet. What man can compete with that?

And speaking of men and dogs, let me share something with you that was emailed to me. Made me smile. Oh, by the way, don't smile any big toothy grins around your dog. They interpret a show of teeth as a sign of aggression. Just thought I would share. Grrr...

Anyway, my girlfriend sent me this and I think it's really funny. Don't anyone get offended on me now or I will have to make these articles squeaking Disney clean. Even though I talk to my dogs in baby talk, we are grown ups here in Fifiland. Enjoy.

How Dogs and Men are the Same

Both take up too much space on the bed.

Both have irrational fears about vacuum cleaning.

Neither one will ever tell you what's bothering them.

Both have inordinate fascination with women's crotches.

Neither of them notice when you get your hair cut.

Both fart shamelessly.

Neither understands what you see in cats.

Identity Crisis

I have now been divorced for 7 years and I have this burning desire to change my last name. I don’t think I want to get married again, so this is something I have to choose to do. I kept my ex-husband’s name because my girls carried that name, but now they are all married, so I am the only one who still uses my ex’s family name. It doesn’t suit me anymore. I have moved on but I am in a quandary as to what to do.

I started doing a little research on famous people who had changed their names. They wanted to become stars and so do I, just on a much smaller scale. It would feel good to reinvent myself a bit. Once I started reading up on what celebrities changed their names to, I realized that I have only one chance to do this right. I have to decide on what suits me best for my life going forward. If I get to choose a new last name, let it be something that rolls off the tongue and people will remember.

So, in the course of my name investigation, I had a lot of fun. It made me laugh to imagine using the person’s real name instead of their stage name in association with the things they were famous for. As an example, I have always thought that Jane Seymour was such a beautiful woman. Her petite frame, her gorgeous “romance novel” long hair and her delicate English accent made her stand out from so many other actresses. Imagine if she had depended only on her stunning attributes to carry her to fame. Would she have ever gone on to Dr.Quinn, Medicine Woman or even Dancing with the Stars if she had remained Joyce Penelope Frankenberg?

Can you fathom a badass movie like Diehard with a star named Walter Willis? Good move Bruce. And I wonder if Coco would have been as attracted to Ice-T if she met him as Tracy Marrow? It’s pretty cool to have a husband named “Ice”, no pun intended. I like to think about her asking him to bring her a glass of lemonade with extra ice… how sexy. Names can be very powerful.

Even if you are given a nice sounding name, it doesn’t always have enough “oomph” to get you to the top. Dana Elaine Owens is a lovely name for a pretty lady. Queen Latifah, however, is the bomb. As for comedian Chevy Chase, that’s not his given name. It’s actually Cornelius Chase, which is just about as funny. Did you know that Marie Osmond’s real name is Olive? I really can’t picture a marquis that reads Donny and Olive. Can you?

Some famous people start out with great names but have to change them because other famous people have already used them. Singer Katy Perry’s real name is Katherine “Kate” Hudson. Goldie Hawn’s daughter made a change necessary. Comedian/actor Albert Brooks had a great original name... Albert Einstein. He had no choice but to change it. And actor Michael Keaton should have been born a bit earlier if he wanted to keep his real name, Michael Douglas.

I never knew that so many singers changed their names and it’s been going on for a long time. Eleanora Fagan must have known she was going to be legend. And Billie Holiday certainly is. Barry Manilow just couldn’t see Barry Pincus in neon lights. I agree with his decision. The name Gordon Sumner sounds like an accountant. Sting is much sexier. Would a man named Reginald Kenneth Dwight wow you as much as a man named Elton John? I think not.

Even though I am only thinking of changing my last name, I do like the impact that people make with just being known by one name. Elvis, Aretha, Madonna, Cher, Liberace, Demi and Bono… all are instantly recognized by the world. To be honest, I think I might go with the one name concept. It gives me instant recognition in my world and that’s pretty amazing. It should work out great. Everyone who doesn’t call me Fifi calls me Sister, Mom, Honey, or Baby. Yep, watch out, Elvis, Aretha, Madonna, Cher, Liberace, Demi and Bono… I’m comin’ in!

Dough Balls

Few things in life are guaranteed. You’ve heard the saying about death and taxes being the only “sure things” we can look forward to.

In actuality, this statement is completely false. Oh, sure… we all have to pay taxes and we’re all going to die. Those facts are undeniably true. But while we are here, there is one sure-fire reality that exists for all of us, something far more pleasant than death OR taxes, but just as certain.

You probably don’t know about it, or haven’t thought about it, but Fifi will now teach you something that could very well change the way you live your life, so listen up.

If you have trouble remembering things, please make a little note of it. This is very important.

My darlings... Now hear this: there is no such thing as a bad dough ball. PERIOD!

What is a dough ball, you ask? A dough ball is simply any food made primarily of fat and flour. Cookies, muffins, biscuits, bread of any kind, dumplings, waffles, fritters and bagels are all stunning examples. It can be as simple as a soda cracker or as complex as a French GATEAU CHASSEUR (a delicate almond cake drizzled with black raspberry reduction), but it’s all dough balls.

Dough balls can be basic or complicated. The addition of sugar or filling or frosting doesn’t take away from the fact that a dough ball is a dough ball is a dough ball.

Every nationality on the planet has its own version. It doesn’t matter if it is Italian gnocchi, Chinese dim sum, French éclairs, Mexican tamales or English crumpets… they’re all dough balls and they’re all delicious. Shall I go on? Can you name a dough ball that isn’t yummy? I can’t, and I have the butt to prove that I have tasted them all.

Whether it is doughnuts, hush puppies, matzo balls or cupcakes, there are just no bad dough balls. So move over, death and taxes, and make room for something truly fabulous we can surely count on.

Oh, I am so glad I shared this with you; you are just going to love the challenge of dedicating just a little part of your life to trying to find a dough ball that isn’t great. And don’t try to convince me about the fruitcake thing, there are plenty of people who love it.

Now the next time you’re at the mall and you pass the soft pretzel place, you will say quietly to yourself “dough ball” and think of me. And then you’ll pass the Cinnabon store, and say “dough ball” and then Mrs. Fields, and so on and so on.

When I am right I am RIGHT!

Talking Dirty

A few weeks ago, I was organizing my utility closet and was astounded by the number of cleaning products that I owned. Honestly, with all the dirt busters that I had accumulated, my house should be spotless.

It didn’t take me long to realize that I was a victim of clever advertising. I had individual cleaners for windows, floors, walls, furniture, sinks, and toilets. I had “all purpose” cleaners, sprays to make my home smell fresh, foams for stains on the rugs, and liquids to clean my jewelry. Besides all this I had bottles and containers of cleansers to remove rust, mineral deposits, dust and grease. And of course, I had special potions for my stainless steel appliances and treated wipes for my granite counter tops. Ridiculous!

I don’t think of myself as a gullible person, but I had succumbed to the clever tricks of those Madison Avenue advertising agencies. Shame on me… I am smarter than that. My mother kept a clean house and all she had was vinegar, Clorox, Comet and Pine Sol. Sometimes she used lemons off our tree for cleaning, but I never paid much attention to what she did with them.

“I got a late start being Eco-friendly... I have some catching up to do.”

As I get older, I really crave a simpler life. I am also quite committed to being Eco-friendly. I got a late start on being ecologically sensible and am only getting credit from the '80s on, so I have some catching up to do.

As I looked at the endless supply of cleaning products I owned, I realized that all of these damn products must certainly not be good for the environment or me. I immediately sat down at the computer to get myself educated. When I learned what was in the products I used to clean, I was shocked. And you know what else? I learned that manufacturers do not have to list certain ingredients if they are part of their “secret formula”. Holy crap! Think of the poisons we don’t know about!

I learned a lot of great cleaning tips. First off, I learned what my mom was doing with all those lemons! Keep reading…

• 1. Use a half lemon and salt to clean even the most heavily discolored brass (real brass, not brass plated).
• 2. The same method can be used for copper such as copper bottoms of pots.
• 3. You can also shine up your chrome faucets or the chrome on older model cars with lemon and salt.
• 4. Diluted lemon juice not only cleans stains from cutting boards, but helps kill germs as well. Rub the juice full strength onto the stain and let sit until the stain fades. It can be left overnight, then rinsed well and dried. I did this on my butcher block and it was amazing!
• 5. Clean your microwave and remove odors. Place a cup 3/4 full of water with a couple tablespoons of lemon juice in the microwave. Heat to boiling. Don’t open the door for another 10 minutes. Then just wipe away food particles with a clean cloth and dry. This one is superb! And when you are done with this task, throw the rinds in the garbage disposal to freshen it up instantly.

The uses for distilled white vinegar are endless. I found great success in using straight vinegar in a spray bottle around doors and windows etc. to keep out ants. I will admit that the house smells a bit salad-y at first, but ants hate it and stay away. I feel a whole lot better about not using pesticides around my grandbabies and pets. Did you know that you can suck out the caustic smell in a freshly painted room by leaving a bowl of raw onions in the middle of the room overnight with the door closed? It works! I kid you not.

I found out that a cup of hydrogen peroxide in your washer whitens whites and brightens brights better than bleach and it doesn’t pollute. I was so impressed.

I am telling you, it was so exciting to get educated, but it wasn’t until I happened on one particular article that my life truly changed forever! I got so into natural cleaning products and living a non-toxic life that I almost bought a pair of Birkenstocks. I am glad I held off, because what I learned next was tailor made for me, Miss Fifi.

Did you know that one of the BEST natural cleaners you can use is vodka? I am not kidding. It is not only the most glamorous cleaning product imaginable, it has no fumes or VOCs ( Volatile Organic Chemicals).

Of course you can use cheap vodka, which makes it a very economical way to clean. It removes adhesives, stains (even red wine), cleans eyeglasses and chandeliers. Just put a towel down beneath the lighting fixture and spray the prisms with vodka. The towel catches the dirty drips and you don’t have to do anything else because it’s VODKA and it evaporates, leaving the crystals sparkling clean. I love it! You won’t believe the way vodka cleans your diamonds. Did you know that those spray products that make things smell better are super toxic? Just put vodka in a spray bottle and spritz your room. It’s fabulous! So there you have it. I hope you don’t mind me talking dirty to you. You are going to save so much money, but more importantly, you are doing it non-toxically.

I do have a question for those of you who have lived a “green“ life for a long time. When all is said and done and the time comes that they measure your carbon footprint for the life you’ve lived on earth, is it OK to wear high heels? Let me know, will you?

Driver's Education

I don't know if I have ever mentioned it, but I am not a big fan of driving. I must have been an heiress in my previous life because being driven just feels so much more natural. My grown kids know how to get on my good side when they make plans and then ask me if Miss Daisy would like to be picked up. Hell yes!

Unfortunately, I am still doing my own driving for the time being. It's not that I mind being behind the wheel. I have a very comfortable climate controlled car with music and news at my fingertips and a moon roof if I should ever feel sporty. It's what is outside of my vehicle that drives me crazy about driving. For me, driving means that I have to endure an unfathomable amount of stupid.

Let's start with billboard advertising. These big companies spend bazillions of dollars to get their brand across in the nano-second it takes a car to pass by. Wouldn't you think the content would be easy to read and their message understandable? A bit of cleverness might even make drivers-by remember what they are selling. I can't tell you how many times my sister and I have been stuck in bumper to bumper freeway traffic and one of us will point and say " explain that billboard to me". Most of the time neither one of us gets the message in stop and go rush hour traffic so I doubt that many drivers are getting inspired to try the product at 65 miles per hour.

So even if I am not distracted by lame billboards, there is still so much going on to make my drive aggravating. People do crazy things while driving. It is illegal to hold a cell phone and talk yet I see people doing it all the time. What is it about the term "hands free" that is so difficult to understand? I see drivers blatantly holding their phones and talking. What could possibly be so important that you would risk the lives of others and not just pull over? What about the folks that hold their cell phones low in the palm of their hand with the screen facing towards the sky? Now that's a natural looking pose. The only other time a human holds their hand like that is when they are clutching a deck of cards and getting ready to deal 5 card stud. Yeah, I bet the police haven't figured out that you're on your phone.

We all know that we should never text and drive. The public service announcements make a strong point. But how about all the other inane things people do while they are driving that no one ever talks about? In all fairness, I will gender-ize what I have seen. Men first. I have seen guys reading the paper, brushing their teeth, and shaving while driving. As far as the ladies go, we do violate the cell phone rules at least as much as the men, but we tend to do things like putting on mascara etc. at stop lights. I admit to refreshing my lip gloss or reviewing my "to do" list while the car is stopped and I am waiting for the light to change. Women are notoriously better multi-taskers than men, so it is understandable that women may be able to perform womanly or motherly duties safely while behind the wheel, but even the fairer sex has been known to step over the bounds of good sense. Nothing illustrates this better than when my sister was stopped at a signal and the woman behind her rear ended my sisters car. The ladies pulled over and once they assured each other that no one was hurt, the woman admitted that her foot slipped off the brake pedal while she was trying to pump breast milk. True story. I can't make stuff like this up. The girls and cars were fine and they both had a good laugh.

I will continue to do things while waiting at signals. I am good at it and I never have to worry about knowing when it is time to go because there is always some impatient ass behind me who will hit the horn the second the light goes green.

Because there is little hope that i will have a chauffeur in the near future, I have found ways to engage my brain as to make my journeys more like learning experiences. It is increasingly more curious to study the cars and the people who drive them. There are human behaviors attached to what people choose to drive, you know. Vehicles can't speak, but yet....they do.

Big trucks and SUV's are the alpha dogs of the highway. Because they have big cars, these drivers think they own the road. I find it best to just let them have their way. Their bullying egos, rising gas prices and karma will do them in eventually. Trust me. No one needs a car the size of a 747 and those who indulge in the "bigger is better" philosophy will pay the price one way or another.

Some women who drive fancy foreign cars have very much the same kind of attitude. Their car is an extension of who they are. How sad to let your automobile define you. Ok, I need to rethink that statement. I would never lie to you. If I went to my garage and found that the Bentley fairy left me a brand new white one, I would let my car define me without hesitation. I'm just sayin'.....

Don't you love those "kid cars "? You know, the ones made for the youth market. Some of them are really cute. The Soul, the Cube and those adorable Fiats all just scream young and moving on up. When I was in my 20's, there weren't special cars or a niche market for my age group. I was lucky to get my Aunt Helen's Ford Falcon on a payment plan.

See, my time on the road isn't for naught. I have used my drive time wisely but it's still not my favorite thing to do. You can learn an awful lot about this country and it's people by just looking out your car windows. Yes people, and let's DO remember that the drivers seat is surrounded by windows and others can see in. Keep your hands on the wheel and out of your nose. Ladies, keep you skirt pulled down and your knees together. My cousin is a long haul trucker and he has seen more body parts by accident than he cares to share.

Until next time.

P.S. Drive safely. We have a date next week.

Bean There, Done That

I belong to one of the largest and most militant groups in the United States. I am a coffee drinker. Those of you who don’t care about coffee probably have something else you are crazy about that you can relate to easily. My mother was a coffee drinker. We all knew that it wasn’t a good idea to talk to her before her first cup. It’s funny, when you are a kid and some grown up lets you taste a little sip, you think it is horrible and cannot imagine why people like it. Then you grow up and the thought of living without it is horrifying.

Seattle in the 70s started a new era of coffee consumption. No longer were people content with just a cup of Joe; we got used to special brews from around the world. With the advent of the chain coffee houses like Starbucks, we all succumbed to what is known as coffee culture. These coffee sanctuaries became a place to meet friends, embark on a new romance, study, do work on your computer, or just contemplate your navel while sipping your signature drink.

For all you coffee drinkers out there, you know what I am talking about.

If you have ever stood in a long line at Starbucks and listened to the ordering going on in front of you, it is pretty intimidating. You need to learn a different language to order coffee in one of these places. The clientele is pretty hip and you would never ask what anything means, so you have to learn the lingo the same way you learned about sex. You listen intently, pretend you get it, nod your head, and then you can eventually piece together all the facts and know what they are talking about. Once you get the jargon down, drinking coffee becomes less stressful and more enjoyable. Back in the day when I was new to the Starbucks routine, I remember the person ahead of me in line ordering a “1/2 caf/decaf cappucino, extra wet. I started to panic about being next. I had no idea how to order and I didn’t want to appear stupid. I was like a deer in headlights when it was my turn. A million thoughts dashed through my brain as I tried to unscramble what I just heard. “Extra wet?” Isn’t coffee already wet?

“How can I help you , Miss?”, asked the young man. “Oh”, I said, flinging my hair and attempting to look very casual. “I just want a regular brewed coffee”, I replied, disguising my angst with the best bored blonde look I could muster up. I was so relieved that he acknowledged my request and poised his fingers over the register keys to ring me up.“Whew!”, I said to myself. “They have just regular coffee here!” “Would you like our Sumatran Gold or the Himalayan Fog?” He queried. Oh, crap! I was terrible at geography in school. “Which region has the best coffee?” He was looking at me like I should know the difference between the two. I decided to look conflicted and it worked like a charm. “You know our House Blend is award winning and also my personal favorite.” I shook my head yes and now looked forward to my lovely cup of coffee. “Shall I make that a Venti?,” he inquired. “Absolutely!” I said with feigned authority. I had no idea what I was ordering until I picked up my schooner of black coffee when they called my name.

You live and learn. And I have learned plenty. When you order a cappuccino wet, it means you want more coffee than foam. To order it dry is just the opposite. Breve is with half and half instead of milk. Order your drink skinny and it’s made with skim milk and sugar free syrup. It’s not rocket science, but pretty close.

People have become so particular about the coffee they drink. I actually think that coffee snobs are worse than wine snobs. The whole thing has no socio-economic connection either. People who consider Cheetos hors d’oerves, are super snooty about their coffee. I have a good friend who roasts his own beans. Now that’s dedication. I must say that I truly understand the importance of coffee. It starts my day and often ends my evening meal. I am really glad that caffeine does not affect my ability to sleep. I would be miserable if I was one of those people who can’t drink a cup after 3 pm or they are up all night. I can pound back a double espresso at midnight and be asleep by 12:10.

I am the opposite of a coffee snob. I like it all. Give me a good hot mug of coffee shop coffee brewed in a Bunn machine. Fabulous! Whether it’s done in a French press, drip brewed, or percolated... it’s all good.

After my divorce, I treated myself to one of the Keurig coffer machines that use little individually packed “pods” to brew a single cup of coffee of your choice. Each serving is a work of art in a cup and since I live alone, sometimes that’s all I want to make. I have a little wooden drawer thing-y where my different varieties of pods, called K-cups, are kept. Each morning I ponder which exotic coffee I will have with the same deep thought as I would select a diamond ring from the jeweler’s case. Sometimes I even have tea. I have a plethora of different mugs from all over the universe on the shelf above my coffee maker, so I can match my coffee choice and my mood. Ok, it doesn’t take much to float my boat, but I love that damn machine. I love my coffee.

If, God forbid, I should ever become homeless and forced to live in the park, I would find a park with an electric outlet for my Keurig. I know they exist because the gardeners don’t use battery powered lawn mowers and hedge clippers, for goodness sake. I would make myself a sign that said “Please Help. Will Work for K-cups”. I will stand by the freeway on ramp during morning rush hour and graciously entertain offers of employment or donations for my coffee pods. You think I’m kidding, right?

For all you coffee drinkers out there, you know what I am talking about. A lot of the pleasure in a cup of coffee has to do with the ceremony of it all. The brewing, the cream, the sweetener... the way you swizzle it around to blend it just the way you like it. When your hands are wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, the warmth goes right down to your toes. That aroma of the roasted beans wafting upwards is purely intoxicating. Tell me something that tastes better than that first sip in the morning... divine!

Besides the taste and tradition of this beverage, don’t forget how many problems have been solved and relationships begun over a simple cup of coffee. Chances are some of you are reading this article over coffee... that pleases me greatly. I am drinking one as I write this. Cheers!

A Stellar Reputation

Do you have any idea who has the very best Public Relations people in the world? As you know, it is the job of PR people to keep their clients’ image clean and pristine and to always have them shown in the best light. So, obviously the answer to my question is not Brad and Angelina or the Kardashians. You can keep guessing, but you won’t get it. For every famous name that comes to mind, no matter how flawless their reputation, there is always something that tarnishes their perfect image. Give up?

Whoever was handling the publicity and creating an image for bunnies did an amazing job. I went along with my son-in-law and daughter to take my 10 month old granddaughter to have her picture taken with the Easter Bunny. ADORABLE! And the bunny was cute, too. It got me to thinking about the reputation of bunnies. I could not think of one negative thing that had to do with them. They are totally cutie patootie in every way. Besides, there is nothing softer on the planet and they don’t just walk... they hop. You can be “as cute as a bunny” or “as quick as a bunny” and it’s a compliment. If you pull a rabbit out of a hat, you have pulled off something extraordinary. My graphic goddess, Miss Nora, has a sister named Bunny. And yes, she is as darling as they come.

Bunnies make you go “ahhh”. I have zillions of little white tailed ones that enjoy nibbling on the grass at my house. There is not a time when I catch them that I don’t stop and take in their adorable-ness and smile.

It was not by accident that a rabbit was chosen as one of the icons of the Easter season. Bunnies are the epitome of cuddliness and completely irresistible with those ears!

The worst dancer in the universe can still join in to do the Bunny Hop. Anything associated with bunnies makes people happy and can make them act silly. See, you just can’t say anything bad about them. I even had a boyfriend in college who called me his “funny bunny”. I loved it.

Bunnies also have a very special significance for me. They remind me of someone I love very much. My middle daughter, Jenni, was always a hard worker in school and later in her career. She was always there to help and was forever putting pressure on herself to make sure she got everything done. When I would ask her, for example, how she was going to finish a project, go to class, finish her homework, and be done in time to come help me cook dinner for the family, she would always give me the same answer no matter how much she had to accomplish: “Magic bunnies, Mommy. Magic bunnies.” Somehow those magic bunnies always came through. Jenni rarely failed at anything and never disappointed. The heartbreaking truth is that we lost Jenni at age 24, in 2009. I have probably told you this before, so forgive me. I do share most of my life with you and this part is still kind of a blur at times.

Bunnies are dear to me for many reasons. I honestly don’t know why I just went to the “Jennifer place” in this article. You all so sweetly put up with my crazy meanderings about this subject and that. I started talking about bunnies and ended up here. Thank you for letting me ramble. And by the way, the next time you have to power through a million tasks and you pull it off like the superstar you are, consider that you might just have some magic bunnies in your midst.

By the way, if you are a mother or a grandmother, you need to buy a copy of The Runaway Bunny. It’s the story of a mother bunny and her baby bunny. It encapsulates everything you ever need to know about the infinite power of mother love. Here’s a little bit... leave it to the bunnies to get such a precious message across so beautifully.

Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away.
So he said to his mother, “I am running away.”
“If you run away,” said his mother, “I will run after you.
For you are my little bunny.”

“If you run after me,” said the little bunny,
“I will become a fish in a trout stream
and I will swim away from you.”

“If you become a fish in a trout stream,” said his mother,
“I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you.”

“If you become a fisherman,” said the little bunny,
“I will become a rock on the mountain, high above you.”

“If you become a rock on the mountain high above me,”
said his mother, “I will become a mountain climber,
and I will climb to where you are.”

And so the story goes. No matter what the bunny becomes, the mama bunny turns into whatever it takes to keep her baby safe. So sweet!

This is a big week with Passover and Easter. Families will be together and it doesn’t get better than that. I hope you all have times to treasure. Speaking of treasures, check out my 10 month old, Lulu. It’s her first Easter. And yes, I am responsible for the mini ball gown. I am not only her grandmother, I am her stylist.

Getting By Famously

I was away on a little vacation last week, and as it turned out, I learned more than the fact that Virginia is a beautiful state. I was at the airport newsstand fiddling away some time before boarding and stocking up on the necessities required to get me through my flight. Let’s see... bar-b-qued potato chips, Junior Mints and of course, something good to read. I scanned the magazine racks looking for just the right reading material to make my journey less dreary.

I thought about buying a popular health and fitness magazine that featured an article on the 14 Super Foods. When I saw the first food on the list was legumes and the last was plain yoghurt, I didn’t hold out much hope that potato chips and peppermint candy would be included. Maybe another time.

Cosmopolitan is always interesting and often quite steamy in content. THAT would keep me amused over Salt Lake City! Only problem is, the last time I read Cosmo on the plane, the guy next to me in business class must have assumed that I was absorbing every one of those “how to” tips and adding them to my personal repertoire. His knee kept hitting mine and the “ooh baby” winks kept coming throughout the flight. He asked me if I would like to go have a drink with him when we landed. If I had been reading Field and Stream, would he have asked me to go bass fishing? I doubt it.

I only had a few minutes and I just needed something light and brainless, so I decided on a couple of tabloids and headed to my gate.Once on board, I settled in and built my invisible wall around me. I took out my snacks and began thumbing through my “tell all” magazines. They brought me a Diet Coke which, by the way, I believe negates the calories in potato chips and candy. I thought you might like to know that. Anyway, I was getting really comfortable and loving every minute of my precious down time all by my little self, when suddenly, there was a commotion up front. I stopped to pay attention. I always want to make sure that we are not going to die before I get really comfortable. I summoned the flight attendant and asked what was going on. She quietly told me that a very famous and handsome actor, she was quick to add, was in the first class cabin just a few rows ahead of me. With great relief that we weren’t on fire or being hijacked, I went back to my magazines and snacks.

I couldn’t concentrate because of the constant buzz and not-so-subtle motioning that had now spread through the entire aircraft. Mr. Hollywood was evidently sitting at the very front of the plane. It amazed me that grown up people traveling in first and business class were conjuring up excuses to go to the lavatories or visit the galley extra often just to have a look. I would not be part of this, I thought! They make you use the bathrooms in your own area, so at some point I was wiggling enough that I had to give in. I was so proud that I came and went and never looked to see who it was. When I sat back down, my neighbor who hadn’t as much as acknowledged me yet, leaned in and said “Did you see Cool Callahan?” (not his real name, duh!), ”I thought he was taller!” he continued. I just smiled like I didn’t speak English and went back to my treats and tabloids once AGAIN. As I turned the pages, there were endless articles with “grab you” headlines about celebrities and their lives. And then it hit me. How hard it must be to be famous! As I turned the pages, I scanned article after article about who’s sleeping with who, who’s bankrupt, gay, too fat, too thin, drugged out, possibly pregnant or secretly married. The telephoto-ed snapshots of famous folks being caught during their private moments or in a state less than glamorous were there for the world to see. This seemed so unfair. I won’t even let my kids take a candid photo of me without grabbing the camera and editing out the ones where I have too many chins.

I don’t know what it was, but after awhile I started getting this icky feeling. I started to think about what it would be like to live life under a microscope. I could certainly get into the privileged part of celebrity-ness, but having to deal with the gossip and the gawking and the paparazzi? I can’t even stand it when my Aunt Maggie follows me around with her digital camera all of Christmas day so she can share the photos with the relatives back home. I do it because I love her, but it drives me nuts.

When we landed and lined up to wait for them to open the airplane door to exit, all eyes were on Mr. MovieStarPants. I guess famous people get themselves ready to disembark an aircraft and collect their overhead luggage differently than us ”normal” people, because every eye was on him. I lowered my head in protest and stared at my newly pedicured and painted toes as I waited. All I could think about was that when I travel, I like to be invisible. I don’t like to chat and I revel in the peace and quiet. I actually border on being anti-social and it’s somewhat of a luxury.

As we started to move down the aisle, the lady standing behind me whispered “I am going to grab his pillow when I go by! Maybe I will put it on eBay”, she giggled. If you can have an epiphany in an airplane aisle, I did. I “epiphed” BIG time. As I walked through the terminal, I made a ceremonious stop at the trash bin and deposited my two tabloids. I will never buy them or read them again. PERIOD! I will not contribute another cent of my money or a minute of my time to reading that destructive sensationalistic crap. I am hoping that I can talk you, my faithful readers, into doing the same. Are you IN?

What I once thought was mindless fun is really shameful intrusion. And to be honest, not much of that stuff is even true.

So what do movie stars owe us? Good movies and interviews they choose to give are all, in my opinion. If I am ever tempted to read those trash papers again, I will think of that actor (who happens to be one of my favorites, by the way... and he IS intoxicatingly handsome) and remember how much of his life he had to give up. I don’t think all the money and “stuff” in the world can make up for losing your privacy and probably some of your soul.

It’s funny, but I recently saw this star being interviewed on TV and he was saying that he had a profound fear of flying. I think I know WHY, and it doesn’t have much to do with being 30,000 feet off the ground.

I am so grateful that I was born a cartoon. Nobody really ever bothers us.

And The Winner Is...

I am not a big fan of awards shows, but I love the Oscars and look forward to seeing the 85th Annual Academy Awards tonight. Award shows have multiplied like bunnies because people like to watch celebrities in gorgeous clothes and like everything else in this world, it all boils down to money. Sponsors have deep pockets and these events sell product.

In the good old days, there were the Oscars and then with TV, came the Emmy Awards. When the Grammys began to be televised, the musical performances were worth the viewing. I even occasionally watched the Tonys to keep current in case I decided to fly off to New York for the weekend to see a show or two. I always opted for buying groceries and paying the mortgage instead, but I loved the idea of dashing off to see the hottest play on Broadway. The Academy Awards, the Emmys, the Grammys, and the Tonys covered the entertainment industry perfectly. In my opinion, awards shows should have stopped there, but as usual they didn’t ask me, so there are now a bazillion of them.

It seems like every time you turn around there is big hype for the latest and greatest awards show. There are around 60 entertainment industry awards shows televised annually. How much excellence should really be rewarded? It saddens me that the standards for outstanding achievement have drastically changed in so many areas. When I was in school, you had win a spelling bee or have straight A's to win an award. By the time my youngest was in school, she was “Student of the Month” twice in one school year. Let me assure you that with this kid we applauded her C minuses and she was always in trouble for talking in class. Although I gave her kudos and showed up to take photos at her awards ceremonies twice, I still don’t understand how she was the most outstanding student… twice. This kind of lowering-the bar philosophy has played havoc with the integrity of being the best in your field. This is painfully evident in not only what has happened to awards given out in the entertainment field, but also the 3rd grade at Ralph Waldo Emerson Elementary School. It’s very distressing.

I hate most of these copycat awards shows. There are too many awards given out for being best. How can you be best if everyone else is best? One show that really makes no sense to me is the Teen Choice Awards. Does anyone really trust the opinion of a teenager? I have never watched this event, but I can only imagine that the winners probably roll their eyes while making their acceptance speeches. Don’t think I hate teenagers, I don’t... I raised 6 of them. My dear friend, Mayra, always said that only God loves teenagers. I am curious to know if she is entirely correct on that one. I have my doubts.

What really bugs me about some of these wannabe awards shows are the stupid categories. One of the other awards shows that is televised has a main category called Outstanding Visual Effects in an Animated Commercial or Video Game Trailer. I am sure the nominees are talented, but do we really need this show to be on television? If this trend keeps up we will be seeing the Insurance Professionals of the Year Awards on our big screen TVs. People, this is why we have banquet rooms and ballrooms in hotels, so you can have luncheons and give out rewards. Please don’t put this stuff on television. Surely there are still enough reruns of “Three’s Company” to fill the airways at much less cost. Think about it.

The Oscars are still the granddaddy of all awards shows. We used to watch it at home when I was growing up. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Academy Awards and all the beautiful fashions didn’t somehow inspire me to go to art school and become a designer. I look so forward to see what everyone is wearing. In fact, I will let you in on a little secret, I am having an Academy Awards party!

Before I started LoveFifi.com, I was lucky enough to work for 20 years at one of the most famous lingerie companies in the world. There was a fantastic team of women who created the garments and every year at Oscar time, we got together at one of our houses for a party. Ten years ago, we all went our separate ways, but will remain friends forever. One of our group wrote an email and lamented about the “good old days” and our fabulous Oscar parties. The next thing I knew, we were having one at my house this year.

I am really into it. Although I haven’t had time to see even one of the movies, I don’t care. We will have ballots that cost $5 bucks each, just like they used to. The winner will get the pot except for one five dollar bill. That goes to the one whose answers sucked the most.

Don’t tell anyone, but I bought a piece of red carpet to roll down my path to the front door. Everyone is bringing something for our potluck and my invitation states that they should dress comfortably, but must include one Oscar worthy piece of formal wear in their attire. I am waiting for my guests to arrive in their shorts and bowties, sweats and tiaras or whatever. It will be fun.

I hope you will all enjoy the awards. They are so Hollywood and there is nothing like it. The sports freaks have their Super Bowl and the rest of us have the Oscars.

Speaking of tiaras, I need to find mine and shine it up. See you next week and if you have a minute, write and tell me what you loved and didn’t love about the Academy Awards.

I'm Just Sayin'

One of my fondest memories of my sweet mother was at the end of her life when I bought her a few new t-shirts to go with her everday sweat pants. Although she suffered from Macular Degeneration, and at certain times of the day could only see shadows, she still had a reputation to keep up at her retirement village as the resident fashionista. In a world where most of the ladies wore old housecoats, this was not a difficult goal to attain. I bought her the two jazziest shirts I could find. Both were emblazoned with flowers and birds and were studded with rhinestones. I was sure she could see her new duds with all the sparkles, and I knew the other residents would see her and comment. When I unveiled my purchases, she held them up, smiled brightly and squealed. “You GO girl!” she said with delight. “I got me some bling!” I looked at my Boston-born, college educated, Renaissance-woman-of-a -mother in shock. Who is this woman What did you do with my grammatically correct mother who never swore or used a sentence with a dangling participle in her entire life?

I had forgotten that my mom spent much of her time listening to the TV and radio. Since her sight was often diminished, she could hear better than most. Whatever transformation took place, my petite little mom embraced American slang in her final days and I must say it was pretty adorable. My guess is that between listening to NPR and watching PBS, she must have seen a few episodes of Maury, Oprah, and Entertainment Tonight. By the way, when I put her to rest, she wore plenty of sparkles. I wouldn’t have dared to let her show up in heaven un-blingy.

Slang is such an interesting phenomenon. It just appears like magic and is spread like a virus. There are no slangmeisters who create this stuff. It just arrives and thrives until it fizzles out. The true gems stick around for decades and become part of our regular speech while the really stupid ones die off. I have discovered through my extensive slang research on the subject (this morning) that the life span of a slang expression usually appears, peaks, and wanes into oblivion over a two decade period.

It is said that slang words and phrases really took off in the 1950s. I think that is true, but history shows (yes, there is slang history) that American slang actually had it’s beginnings in the 1920s and 30s. You may not use these terms, but if you have seen old black and white movies, you know I am speaking the truth.

The Roaring 20s brought us “23 Skiddoo”, which meant to scram. There was also hotsy totsy, meaning very uptown and fancy. I am seriously thinking of bringing this one back as I am sick to death of glam. Who’s with me on this? One that thankfully was born and died in the 20s was the bees knees which referred to something that was beyond outstanding. The 30s brought us I’ll be a monkey’s uncle! which expresses disbelief. You may not have ever used that one, but I bet you know what skivvies are, don’t you. Yes, men’s underwear. You can thank the slangsters of the 1930s for that one.

With the 1940s there was a war going on. Girls were gals. If a man had a full wallet he had a lot of lettuce. If you conspired with someone, you were in cahoots. Old fashioned was old hat and if it was you that was old fashioned you were a fuddy duddy. I don’t use these words, but I sure as heck know what they mean. It must be because I hang around older people.

The 1950s were the beginning of the first hipster generation. The Beat Generation, it was called. Beatniks were the cool cats. The word cool is iconic in the world of slang. It described anything that was fantastic. If you liked something back in the rock n’ roll 50s, you were more apt to say that you dig it. And you didn’t have to be a father to be called Daddio.

In the 1960s all hell broke loose in the slang world. The surfer craze, the Beatles, free love and Hippies all added new words to pepper the English language. If it was great, it was bitchin’. I was forbidden to use it then, and now that I am old enough, it makes me sound stupid. Life is not always fair. Whether it was good music or drugs or just being happy that made you feel groovy, it was a good place to be. Good looking people were known as foxes. A breathtakingly gorgeous person was a stone fox. If you were feeling down, you were undoubtedly on a bummer. A person who was off in his own reality was trippin’. Young people in the 60s were always aware if something or someone had a good or bad vibe. Kissing was referred to as swapping spit and I must note that this era also gave us the words woody for a man’s erection and zits for pimples. Ok, it wasn’t La Belle Époque, but it was a very interesting time in history. If you agree with me, go ahead and say it along with me 60s-style. Ready? RIGHT ON! Now didn’t that feel righteous?

The 1970s and 80s brought us disco amongst other phenomena and a lot wonderful words that went with it all. People were encouraged to keep on truckin’ no matter how hard life got. If something was really good, it was dynamite. If someone was a jerk or an idiot, he or she was referred to as a turkey. I wonder how the turkey community felt about it. Thank goodness it didn’t last long. I was a young girl then and I loved to boogie. I am not just talking about dancing, but getting your butt in gear and getting going. It was a good time for me. I remember a day in 1980 when a cute man on a motorcycle called me bodacious as I passed by on the street. It felt pretty good since I had just given birth. It felt even better after I got home and took off my sweater. I discovered that I had leaked milk from nursing through my blouse. I will never forget that day that I passed for bodacious. As we proceeded into the 80s, we tried to relax, veg out and stay mellow. Too much stress might get us psyched out and that wouldn’t be good. The 80s were good for me. Although I honestly never understood what it meant when something was tubular, all things rad kept me pretty happy. I learned to get real and I have remained in that state ever since. I was never a wannabe or a yuppy. I never got mad enough to go postal. Sadly, I never had a boy toy, but as it happens, I am now interviewing for one in the year 2013. It’s not too late is it? Whoever it was that said “yes”... bite me!

The 90s were a blur to me and I missed a lot of pop culture. I was busy with my career and raising thousands of children. I didn’t have time to get jiggy with anything or anyone. I never used the 1990s extended version of the word sweeeeet when something was good. I was too tired to ever be considered da bomb and I didn’t have to much time to be chillin’ like a villian. Don’t diss me because I was oblivious during this period of time. I wanted to be kickin’ it with the others but life was chaotic for me. For those of you who flourished in the 90s, good for you. Whatever...

With the new millennium came ginormous changes in the way people talked. The term awesome from the 70s was still going strong. Cool was sometimes jazzed up to coolio. The cougar was born. For the 2 of you out there that don’t know what a cougar is, it’s an older woman who is into younger men. It’s kinda like a stone fox with mileage. What was once known as your posse 25 years ago, is now referred to as your peeps. I am particularly fond of this era because if I say something that is a little wacky or I am having a senior moment, my kids might just attribute it to me being so random. So much better than senile, don’t you think?

So, let’s examine the state of slang as we begin 2013. Cool is king. Since the early 1950s, anything cool is still cool.

I don’t mind slang. I think you have to be careful how you use it or you might as well have geezer tattooed on your forehead. I like to keep up with the times, but I don’t indulge in slang unless I feel it punctuates what I am saying with just the right amount of panache. But that’s just how I roll.