Showing posts with label 50. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 50. Show all posts

Monday, December 17, 2012

Win, Win, Win


It's all good news today, ladies and gentlemen-- In fact, my news is so good that I swear angels are singing.  As 2012-- the year that kicked me to the curb repeatedly, winds to a close, you won't hear me moaning about burglars or large mice or the seeming endless drama of late.  Nope, today it's all good news.  Everybody wins!

For starters, the lovely Lilly of Lily's Life is the winner of my Christmas ornament giveaway courtesy of Attila the Mom and Highland Roses Design Studio.  Please check out both blogs and the ornament shopping site-- These ladies truly are awesome longtime bloggers with great writing and a strong sense of community in Blogland.

Second, I'm sitting up a little straighter in my chair today with a big goofy grin on my face.  Out of the blue, I received a very nice surprise from the Huffington Post.  No, I'm not finally showing my face in the photo below, but my little blog was one of seven blogs they like for post 50 women!  I'm ignoring the fact that HuffPost/50 solidifies my age as clearly not 40-something anymore but this recognition kinda makes being almost 55 okay. 






What I especially like about the HuffPost/50 mention is that the sidebar next to my blog screenshot (not shown in the above photo) says "Joanna Jenkins muses about life, friends and family, and also offers a nice list of other awesome blogs." That means many, many of you, my dear blog friends, are also included in this recognition and that makes me very happy.

I have absolutely no idea why or how my blog was selected but I'm pretty sure it's because of word of mouth from YOU and for that I am deeply grateful.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The other thing I like about this HuffPost/50's list of blogs is that they ask for comments with YOUR suggestions for other blogs.  So please--  CLICK HERE for the full feature, and if applicable, add YOUR blog to the list so the Huffington Posts knows about you.  Tell them Joanna sent you.

And while you're there, pretty please click the LIKE button for my blog and/or leave a commet.  (Hold your curser over my screenshot for the sidebar box and the LIKE button appears.  Or scroll all the way down to get to the comment section.)   Thanks a million!

How many blog do you usually read/follow?
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: © Fotowerk - Fotolia.com and Huffington Post

Friday, May 15, 2009

What Happened To Patriotism?


Did you ever NOT speak up when you really wanted to rip into someone?  Then, after keeping your mouth shut, you gave yourself a good talking to about it for days, because you SHOULD have spoken up at that moment no matter how crazy things were or what the consequences might have been?  Well, I had one of those moments last week and I'm still mad at myself about it!

I take a round-trip Continental Airlines flight between Los Angeles and Cleveland several times a year.  In the past three months I've taken it three times; but for last week's trip I was nervous about the Swine Flu.   Yes, I was the only paranoid passenger wearing a surgical mask and wiping down my tray table with disinfectant.   People were looking at me like I was a nut case but I figured better safe than sorry.   But my mask was not what made this flight so unusual.  

This flight was packed-- really packed, especially for a Monday afternoon.  Before long, the overhead compartments were filled with business men's carry-on suitcases and their briefcases-- Because gawd forbid anything ever went under the seat in front of a businessman

When businessmen are traveling together, it's pretty easy to tell who the "Boss Man" is and who the "Worker Bees" are.  Translation-- the Boss is usually a pompous jerk who wants everyone around him to know that HE'S "the boss" while the Worker Bees are bowing and trying to please his sorry ass.  This flight was no exception.

(Of course not all businessmen are this way but I've known and seen more than my share over the years so I'm pointing the finger at them in relationship to this story.  I know there are some really great businessmen out there too.)

Back to the flight...

We had a perky, 50-something flight attendant with short reddish-brown pixie hair and super strong arms and legs.  I knew they were strong because she was slinging suitcases and climbing on seats to push bags around in the overhead bins like they were filled with feathers.  But the more bags she shuffled, the louder her "I'm not loving my job" attitude came across. 

She stood out from the the attendants in part because her dress was too short and we saw way more of her than we needed to see-- if you catch my drift, and in part, because she was, well, bitchy-- in a perky kind of way. When the overhead bins were full she'd slam them shut and gave anyone who tried to open them the evil eye before directing them to an open bin instead.  

Anyway, on this flight, was a very polite, very nice, and very young, United States Marine traveling with his Dress Blues uniform in a special hanging bag that left no doubt it was "official" in United States Marine Corps. packaging.  You've seen these fancy uniforms before in a military color-guard or other special military events. Their high collars, crisply pressed with striking trim, are very Proud-To-Be-An-American looking.  These aren't the every-day uniforms and you take notice when you see a Marine wearing one-- or carrying one.

Our young Marine carried his Dress Blues with great respect like it was fine crystal.  So you can only imagine how very careful and thoughtful he was about where he placed his Dress Blues in the overhead bin.  He scoped out the perfect spot after everyone else had stashed their carry-ons and after Miss Bitchy-Perky flight attendant had closed the overhead bins declaring them full.  Then he carefully opened the perfect bin with room to spare, and without moving anyone else's gear, gently laid his uniform bag on top before closing the bin, which happened to be directly over my head.  I literally saw him breathe a sigh of relief when his Dress Blues were in a safe place.  Phew!  Thank gawd Miss Bitchy-Perky hadn't see him.

Do you think that was the end of it?  Not even close.  

One of the very last passengers to board was a pain in the butt Boss Man traveling with a Worker Bee.   The Boss primped and strutted his way to the back of the plane making sure everyone knew that he usually flies First Class but "his" Worker Bee (as if he owned him) had screwed up his reservation and he had to sit in the "cheap seats" with the rest of us peasants.   He stopped at the empty seat in front of me and almost smacked right into Miss Bitchy-Perky; who told him to turn around and check his bag at the door.  All bins were full. 

Check his bag?  Over his dead body!

Boss Man treated Bitchy-Perky like she was invisible and proceed to open the full bin with the Dress Blues, directly above my head.   He started shoving and pushing bags around, pulling other people's stuff out, and then slung his way-too-big-to-even-be-on-the-plane-suitcase directly on top of the United States Marine's Dress Blues uniform bag. 

S-M-A-S-H!  

Then, before the poor Marine could fly out of his seat, three rows back, to save his Dress Blues, Boss Man barked at Worker Bee to hand him his briefcase (which the Worker Bee was actually carrying for him along with all his own crap!) and tried to cram the briefcase in on top of the Dress Blues too!

Well, you can imagine the tizzy Miss Bitchy-Perky flew into over Boss Man's bags.  At the moment she happened to be carrying an arm load of blankets over her head (Why they were over her head, I do not know.).  She did one of those things you see two years olds do in a temper tantrum-- She dropped her arms like wet noodles and let the blankets fall-- on my head. (Ewwww-- those things are nasty and I was sure the Swine Flu was all over me! Thank gawd for the mask and wipes!)  Then she started pointing her finger and yelling at Boss Man-- who yelled back.  Meanwhile the poor U.S. Marine was all "Sir and "Ma'am" trying to get to his uniform out of the middle of all this before his perfectly pressed Dress Blues looked like an old dish rag.

Miss Bitchy-Perky was really bitchy now and pulled the uniform bag from under Boss Man's suitcase, crushing it over her arm.  When the polite United State Marine asked for the uniform, Bitchy-Perky did the exact same thing with his uniform that she did with the blankets. She dropped it on the floor!!!!  

Oh!  My!  Gawd!  

Still sitting in my seat and without saying a word, I picked up the uniform to hand it to the Marine and Bitchy-Perky actually snatched it out of my hands and, after yelling at Boss Man one more time, threw the Dress Blues on the floor again!  And deliberately stood on it!

By now our Marine was about to pop his poor shaved head off with politeness and a massive dose of urgency-- PPPLLLEEEEAAASSSEEEE  MA'AM--  It's my DRESS UNIFORM!

Finally, major back-up was coming from every direction with the other two flight attendants and the gate attendant RUNNING down the aisle towards us.  Boss Man was raging, Marine was nearly in tears, Bitchy-Perky was beyond crazy rude and I was sitting silently in the middle, wearing a surgical mask, trying to get the United States Marine's Dress Blues out from under the bitch's firmly planted foot.  

It took seconds for the back-up staff to settle matters and people scattered.  In the end, butt head Boss Man got all of his crap in the overhead storage bins.  The poor Marine actually had to check-- in the belly of the plane-- his Dress Blues that were stored in a safe place way before Boss Man ever stepped foot on the plane.  (Turns out he was wearing his Dress Blues at a military funeral the next day.)  And Miss Bitchy-Perky was never seen again-- EVER.  I don't know if she got off the plane or if she hid in the galley, but she was G O N E.

Maybe it's a good thing she went missing in action, because if she's passed me a bag of nuts and a cold drink mid-flight, I would have had a few choice words for her. By then things had calmed down enough for me adjust my surgical mask,  gather my thoughts and, instead of being stunned by her horrible behavior, I was just plain pissed off.  I'd have let her have it in a calm enough fashion that I doubt I would have been arrested when we landed in Los Angeles-- but I would have made the point that her disrespect to the United States Marine and his Dress Blues uniform was totally unacceptable. 

I was angry because we weren't talking about a little league baseball uniform, a Girl Scout uniform or a Mickey Mouse costume.  It was clearly a United States Marine's Dress Blues uniform.  There was no doubt about that fact.  If you can't show respect for our enlisted man or woman, who the hell can you show respect for-- especially in this day and age?!?

But at the time, it happened all so fast and I didn't say a word.   I'm still thinking about that Marine and the funeral he was participating in wearing the crushed uniform the next day.  It burns me up that 2 minutes and 2 idiots could shatter something so small yet so major all at the same time.

I'm no shrinking violet.  In fact, my "strong personality" has been pointed out to me many times in the past.  But at that moment, the opportunity to stand up to a bully passed.

I know, I know-- Day late and a dollar short.  It won't happen again.

Welcome to TheFiftyFactor  -  Joanna

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Unanswered Questions About Cosmetic "Enhancements"

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how much is too much when it comes to “cosmetic enhancements”—You know what I’m talking about—Botox, brow lifts, Rejuvaderm and the likes; but also the smaller things like hair coloring, brow waxing, teeth straightening, personal trainers and all the lotions and potions that promise ageless results in a bottle.

On one hand, there are the countless magazines; their pages filled with airbrushed to the max celebrities—More magazine especially comes to mind; Jane Fonda, Tea Leoni, Sharon Stone, Dara Torres and Brooks Shields were so flawless on their cover that you’d swear they used photos from Madame Trousseau’s Wax Museum.  Poor Sharon Stone was barely recognizable; and Brooke Shields "celebrating her body as it is" made me laugh out loud--  I guess she didn't mention the "as is" part to the airbrush guys.  (I won’t even start on 70-something Jane!) 

I realize these women make a living off their looks-- and that's fine-- but I have to think that between “the work” they’ve may or may not have had done, and the extreme airbrushing in their photos, we’re not seeing their true faces or being given “real” role models on women's magazine covers to compare our appearances to.

On the other hand, there are the mountains of advertisements targeting women over 40 with models barely 20 years old, all hocking age reversing creams guaranteeing to erase lines in weeks without surgery or injections-- as if the 20 year olds have any idea what the ads are talking about.

Then there is singing sensation, Susan Boyle from Scotland, and the countless questions about her appearance.  Should she get a makeover to minimize her bushy brows, fuzzy gray hair and matronly attire or should she stay au naturale?  Well, guess what--  Susan “went Hollywood” and got a major, head to toe makeover.  Does that mean, at 47, she’s finally bought into the mass marketing and magazines’ portrayal of the “perfect woman”?  Is that what it takes to "win" or get a record deal despite an exquisite voice?  Did she feel pressured to change when the world made snarky comments about her appearance?  I hope not.  And I hope she feels good about herself.

So, where does that leave the rest of us mere mortals with wrinkles and puffy eyes?  

For me, I’m just a 50-something gal trying to look my best and feel confident about my appearance.  But, with all the perfection splashed across magazines and in the media, it’s tough to live up to all the youthful, glowing, wrinkle-free expectations.  It leaves me wondering if I’ve crossed the line and bought into the marketing schtick.  Or, am I at an acceptable level of “enhancements” to make the best of what I have to work with for my age?

For the record, I’m a Botox (brow and crows feet), brow waxing, skin bleaching (brown age spots), teeth whitened and straightened (with braces at age 45) gal with a twice-weekly personal trainer.  I don’t color my hair (yet) and I view that as God’s way of making up for the ultra thin hair he graced me with, which is why I’ve also used hair extensions on special occasions.  I have drawers full of lotions promising miracles--Oh, and I spray tan—a lot, especially in the summer.

I've also had a successful career, and yes, I have a life-- so there’s no spending every minute of every day looking at myself in the mirror.  I know there are much bigger fish to fry in our universe than a few wrinkles, but, obviously, my appearance is a factor in how I view myself.  Right or wrong, it’s just the way it is.  And I don’t think I’m entirely alone on the subject.

I may sound “high maintenance” and shallow, but then again, I live in youth obsessed Los Angeles and compared to many an LA babe, I’m an old hag with barely a make-up brush in sight.  Is that an excuse or a cop-out?  You tell me-- please!

Have I been manipulated into thinking I need all this stuff or am I really doing it for myself—to feel good.  After all, none of this is lowering my cholesterol, reducing my blood pressure or eliminating my arthritis.  Does that means it’s pure vanity or does self-esteem count as a stress reducer?

And more importantly, I wonder how long I’m supposed to keep it up?  At what age do I knock it off-- Skip the Botox, cancel the personal trainer, go with the uni-brow, and lose the retainer on my teeth at night?  Is my "enhancements" clock ticking?  Is there a magic age, a magic moment, a blaring alarm that will sound when enough is enough?  And when it does, what expires?  Moisturizers?  Hair coloring?  Brow waxing?  Some of it?  All of it?  What?  Will the day come when all these “enhancements” I’ve grown to include in my daily grooming regime cease to be relevant or necessary?  

When, or should I say "if", I decide to stop, THEN what happens?  Do I ween myself off one-by-one?   Stop everything cold turkey?  What?  It's a big step!  Life without Botox will look very different-- Literally!

I don’t have the answers to any of these questions, no matter how hard I’ve looked, but I'll continue to search.  If you have a clue, please, by all means, bring it on!

What do you think?

Welcome to TheFiftyFactor  -  Joanna

Friday, April 24, 2009

A Nearly Bad Haircut


It was a record-breaking 101 degree day in Los Angeles, the kind where your allergies kick up, your eyes itch, and your throat is horse from coughing-- And it's only April. So much for spring!

The heat was sweltering and since we don't have air conditioning it felt even worse at my house-- in my attic office, where the heat rises and hugs my desk.  My husband is "saving the planet for his grandchildren".  You know, the grandchildren that are sitting at their home, in the air conditioning, all nice and cool.  But hubby dear-- who works in an air-conditioned office all day-- likes to think he's doing his part to save them and the planet.  I, on the other hand, am not a happy camper, but that's a whole other rant.

Anyway, like I said, it was nasty HOT and my long hair was sticking to my neck.  I hate that and I'd had it!  I'd been trying to figure out what to do with my 50-something hair for a long time to no avail.  I know it's time to lose the ponytail but what to replace it with was a mystery.  Until this really hot day!

I should have stepped away from the telephone and not called my fave hair dresser, Louis, but dial I did, and an hour later I was sitting in his chair, draped in his fancy kimono, telling him it was time to cut-- it-- O F F.

I love Louis.  He's been doing my hair since I moved to Los Angeles 20 years ago which is about the same time he started trying to get me to cut my hair short.  

Over the years, my hair has been half way down my back, shoulder length, permed, straightened, poofed, curled, cropped, chopped, cut, and on special occasion, I've even had him "bring his hair" aka a ponytail hairpiece that matches my color perfectly, to add to my skimpy locks when I wanted a great up-do.  Yes, we've been through thick and thin (hair), literally.

So today, as I begged him to cut all my hair off, he calmly brought me an ice tea and waited until the heat exhaustion slide off my face.... along with most of my mascara.  Louis knows me well enough to know that I'm not a "drastic measures" kind of girl. 

I've fought him long and hard over the years about keeping the length on my hair but 101 degree temps pushed me over the edge.  I wanted a Victoria Beckham pixie cut and I wanted it NOW! He protested, I pushed. He reasoned, I cried.  He sang me the theme song from Hair, I pleaded.  We took a vote in the salon and a pixie cut won hands down! But would he take this hollow victory to our long running battle and snip away while the snipping was good?

Ohhhh nooooo, he wanted to cut my hair short "fair and square" and that did not involve a hysterical "mercy cut". No matter how hard I tried to convince him I really was ready to take it off, Louis simply would not budge.

Instead, I got an inch cut off and a fast blow dry.  Nothing drastic, nothing life changing, nothing special whatsoever-- just a plain old trim and he called it a day.

Thank gawd!

A few hours later, as I fastened my hair back into a ponytail, sitting at my very hot desk with the fan blowing my my skirt, I was so relieved.  I'd come to my senses and knew beyond a doubt that I was definitely not ready for a pixie cut-- ever-- in my lifetime.  Yes, I still need to find a "new do" but it will have to wait another day.  

I sent Louis a big box of designer cupcakes and thanked him for his loyal friendship and support because, I know, a great hair stylist is hard to find--  One that won't let you lose your head is priceless.

What's your hair like?
Welcome to TheFiftyFactor  -  Joanna