Tag Archives: teenager

Traffic Karma and New Year’s Wishes for All Y’all:


Driving in the car with my son, Henry, last week, stuck at a traffic light, I noticed a procession of cars trying to exit from a marketplace, wanting to join my already protracted line in waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Although in a hurry, I decided to let one of the cars in front of me…and then, to Henry’s horror, another.

“Mom! Why did you let two cars in front of us?” He gasped.
“I don’t know,” I said wistfully, “Karma, I guess.” Henry did not seem satisfied with the answer, so I continued, “You know, if you do something nice for someone, it comes back to you…what you put out into the universe returns to you in one form or another.”

“I know what karma is Mom,” he smirked. “So what – the next two times you are merging into traffic you think someone is gonna let you in?” He pressed, rolling his eyes in disbelief.  (After all, at 16, what doesn’t he know?)
“Maybe.” I responded, smiling coyly.

what goes aroundKarma. Yin and Yang. What goes around comes around. You reap what you sow.  Paying it forward.   I know, I know – you all know what karma is, Mom!  Fair enough.  Whatever you want to call it, though, I do think there is some sort of cosmic balance that must be maintained in an ordered universe. It’s the law. I’m not sure why I think this, other than life experience. It just seems to me that when I do something “wrong” I feel the burn of karmic justice, if not immediately, usually soon thereafter. Ahh, but when I do something “good” for someone else, or just in general, I get rewarded. I almost always know when something is “payment” for a good or bad deed, too. 

In my experience, I have found that the karmic justice meted out is commensurate with the crime, and the goodness earned is generally on par with the good deed done. I believe that the failure to understand this concept explains why some folks will never be truly happy.

domino effectI suppose I should explain that, in my view, karma doesn’t mean that bad things will never happen to good people.  Sometimes, they do, and we may not know why.

And, no matter how nice we are, most of us will never win the lottery. (That really bums me out, I must say because I am, like, really really nice.)

People that commit crimes against others will sometimes get away with it…or so it would seem. I kind of wonder about that one, though. I think that, in general, negativity and evil produces a bitter stew that slowly drowns its creator. The more bleak and oppressive a person’s outlook and demeanor, the thicker the stew that will eventually drown him. I think we can all agree, it’s just bad juju all around.  And probably bad stew.

Whew. That sucks.
But now I’m also hungry.

eating stew

Anyway, enough of this hilarity. I wanted to concentrate more on the positive aspects of karma. I wanted to say that I have noticed,  in my life, at least that:
~ When I decline to be greedy, I get rewarded (this often happens at work.)dollar bill

~ When I give someone the benefit of the doubt, someone else does the same for me.
~ When I put someone else’s best interest before my own, I create a happier existence for someone else, which eventually settles with me.  woman in sun

~ When I let someone in front of me in traffic, who knows, maybe the “check engine” light in my car will stay off until my tax refund comes. Maybe, in fact, I’ll actually get a tax refund this year! Well, perhaps I shouldn’t get too carried away. But, I did let two people in front of me.  Just saying.

So, Happy New Year! Get out there and spread some good karma, bitches!

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

hands forming heart

Doggone. No, really.

dog clipart

I typically find writing to be cathartic. Not to mention the fact that it allows me to use the word ‘cathartic’ which I just love. Lord knows I can use all the catharsis I can get, and probably a swift kick in the pants as well, truth be told. Especially this week, since we got a dog.

I’m really quite happy that we got a dog because I am a dog lover to the nth degree. But, I have to say that they are a lot of work. I might have actually forgotten just how much work they are, really. My previous dog passed away in 2012, and I didn’t have the heart to get another one right away. Time passed, and our dog-less ways became more ingrained. But, rescue organizations being what they are, and my sense of obligation being what it is…well…here we are.

Did I happen to mention that little kids and dogs that are quite similar to little kids are meant for younger people?  Yeah, well, that.

The rescue organization told me that the dog, a mutt, was young…approximately 2 years old, and would love to go on long, playful walks with a teenager. What a coincidence! I just happen to have a teenager! I imagined the two frolicking together, playing ball, and so forth. So, on the second day of dog ownership, my son Henry and his canine companion went on a walk around the neighborhood.

My husband first noticed that there was something awry – something blue on the front porch – a leash perhaps? Or a collar? He decided to investigate. He soon discovered that the item in question was both: a collar attached to a leash. Being the Sherlock Holmes that he is, he also took note that there was nary a teenage boy nor a dog in sight. Hmmm. Where could they be, the boy and the dog?

Let the shenanigans begin!

Hubby Joe decided to drive around the neighborhood in search of our 6’2″ son and his furry companion. He soon found them on another street, both soaking wet. The story that followed was rich: Buster (the dog, not the boy) had slipped his collar and proceeded to terrorize the neighborhood. Well, terrorize might be too strong a word.  Yeah, we’ll go with terrorize. Much like cathartic, it’s a good word. Buster was having fun running around, keeping several hundred feet ahead as Henry chased after him. Eventually, his escapades landed him in a neighbor’s swimming pool. I kid you not.

dog in pool clipart

Since he couldn’t swim, presumably, he stood on his hind paws, and just kind of chilled in the pool, his front paws providing much needed support. He didn’t seem at all stressed out, unlike the crazy human trying to “rescue” him. The neighbor, having seen the whole incident, was kind enough to offer to get a leash or a rope of some sort so that my son could capture the silly dog.  But, as Henry tells it, he was taking forever, so Henry had no other option but to jump into the pool and corner the dog. Good times. Soaking wet times.

Since that incident, Buster has gotten loose one other time – this time on my watch.  I was walking him, and when he stopped to…well, you know, and I bent down to pick up the…err…droppings. Buster was not happy that I required his patience as I acquired the…stuff.   He also saw a squirrel.


So, he resisted against his collar, which eventually gave way…and, well, I think you know the rest of the story.  Luckily, this little escapade didn’t end in a neighbor’s swimming pool.  It did, however, end with me, running down the street in flip flops, wild eyed, swinging a bag of poo in my left hand, and his leash in my right, screaming for the dog to return right this instant, neighbors staring in rapt attention as one does in these situations.

I finally spotted him near our house, and, in a fit of what can only be described as sheer inspiration, I opened the porch door, and in he ran!  I followed suit and collapsed, in a heap, on the lawn chair.  Of course, Buster expected a treat for having gone on his ‘walk.’

It was, in fact, a cathartic experience in more ways than one.  And I am totally counting this toward my exercise regimen for the week.

Back to Skool


My 16-year-old son started back to school last week and it was all that I expected, and less.

My son, Henry (not his real name for Pete’s sake) is a real putter-offer…a procrastinator of epic proportions, just like his Mom. 🙂 To give you a glimpse of his psyche, have a gander at a conversation he and I had last year, right before school, courtesy of an old Facebook post:

Me: Do you want to go out tonight and get your book bag or wait until tomorrow? If we go tomorrow you have to get up early – no sleeping in because I have to work in the afternoon.

Henry: Tomorrow.

Me: Ok but you can’t sleep all day; you have to get up.

Henry: Tomorrow.

Yeah. That didn’t happen…the getting up part, I mean. I knew it wouldn’t because Henry is my child…and as such, he is genetically wired to wait until the last minute.

And, if that weren’t enough, since he is a male, after all, he is averse to shopping of any sort, but particularly to clothes shopping. Moms of girls, take note…you may have to max out your credit cards every new school year so that your daughter can look her absolute, well dressed, adorable best in school, but at least…at the very least…you don’t have to drag a snarky teenage boy around to department stores, begging him to at least try something on for size as he whines and complains about what an abhorrent human you are because you want him to dress nicely.

So, I did what any desperate mother would do in this situation: I made my husband go with us, you know, so he could be the mean parent. And, oh yes, we may have: waiteduntilthelastpossibleminuteandthenkidnappedHenryandnotletonastoourultimatedestinationuntilwewerealreadythere.


This year, however, I decided to take a bit of a different psychological approach to the school apparel shopping: I decided to let Henry pick out things for himself, without any undue influence from me. Because apparently, I am a real dumb ass when it comes to fashion for teenage boys. Just look at the ridiculous shirt I bought for him recently, and actually expected him to wear:
awesome tee

I know, I must be some kind of psychopath.

So, I gave him only a few minimal parameters to follow:

  1. We need at least one pair of long pants because eventually it will get cold and shorts might become uncomfortable even though you will insist when it’s 13 degrees outside that a tee shirt and shorts are suitable attire.
  2. I know you love sports, but perhaps there can be some items in your wardrobe that do not contain the Nike swoosh?
  3. You need a hoodie… because eventually it will get cold and…oh never mind.

And you know what? We actually made it out of the department store without killing each other, even though pretty much every shirt he picked out contained exactly zero buttons and did indeed have the Nike swoosh emblazoned upon it.

Baby steps, people, baby steps.

And as an added bonus, he said, “Thank you Mom.”  I actually thought I heard trumpets! Did I happen to mention that I love this kid?

reason mom drinks

It truly is a “50 thing”


I’ve decided to launch this site in order to chronicle my adventures as a 50-something person in a young person’s world. I mean for it to be a lighthearted look at the world, and lighthearted comments and anecdotes are encouraged. That said, I will remove any argumentative, mean spirited, or decidedly off-topic comments. Let’s keep this civil, people!

I don’t know how I came to be a 50-something. It just happened. One night I went to bed in my 20’s and BOOM, the next thing I knew, I woke up in my 50’s. At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I still feel young, for the most part, and I believe I act young. Some may feel that “immature” is a better description of my behavior. I proudly admit that I do get the occasional sideways glance.

Topics for this blog will likely include anecdotal family stories, work stories, and some off-the-wall observations because, friends, that’s how I roll. I love my family, enjoy working out, hate doing housework, and always enjoy a great sense of humor. I’ve had my share of struggles with career choices, finances, diet and nutrition, parenting a teenager, and living with an elderly parent. I’ll talk about these topics, and many others from time to time. Whether you are also 50-something, somewhat younger, or somewhat older, I hope you’ll come along for the journey. I promise it will be anything but boring!