Are the cookies done Yeti?

I remember my apron in the closet right after I’ve stirred a batch of cookies or finished kneading bread dough. Since I’m not a neat baker, I generally end up with flour all down the front of my fuzzy red bathrobe. The robe emphasizes my wide butt and post menopausal belly, giving the effect of an abominable snowman with a sunburn. And why is it that I always wipe my hands on my butt, leaving big white handprints on my generous ass? Continue reading

Prune in the sun

As we get to the stewed prune for breakfast age, most of us develop less tolerance for the cold: my parents spent half of each year living in Arizona, in the RV which now resides in my daughter’s back yard. Many seniors are opting for retiring in a tropical paradise with a lower cost of living. You too can buy beachfront property for pennies on the dollar in Costa Rica … 25 years ago. Continue reading