My Godzilla

There are very few things that totally and completely freak me out.  In our home, for example, I handle the spiders and bugs.  And, ahem, "mice".  It really doesn't bother me.

But snakes...  Not on your life!  I do not like them or their ugly cousin the lizard.  They pretty much put me over the edge and that doesn't seem to be mellowing with age.

Case in point--

Recently I was chatting up my husband on the telephone while packing for a mini vacation.  We were leaving the next morning and I wanted to be sure I had everything in the suitcase.  We'd run down our usual check list of warm weather packing and I'd forgotten flip flops.  So, I open the closet door and reached for my favorite orange pair and, and, and...

Oh.  My.  Gawd!!!  There was a huge, Godzilla-sized lizard stretched across the front my shoe closet.

And I almost touched it-- With my bare hand!

I was screaming to my husband to come home and help me but he heard nothing.  I was so scared, that despite my best efforts, no words escaped.  In an instant, through the hysteria, I knew that something had to be done but I was not touching that monster.  No way.  No how.

After nearly hyperventilating I'd made enough noise that the Godzilla withdrew into a shoe cubbie in our bedroom closet so at least I knew where it was.

I caught my breath, told my husband to come home immediately and then got down on my hands and knees, butt in the air, so I could see into the cubbie that was only 8 inches off the floor.
I vaguely remember Husband mumbling something about taking care of it but hung up the phone before he finished.  He knows my fear of snake things and I was confident he'd burn rubber the entire mile and a half drive from his office to our home to save me.

Confident Husband would arrive VERY soon, I mustered the courage to slowly remove shoes from the cubbie so I had eyes on Godzilla again.

He'd stretched out the length of the back of cubbie with the tip of his tail curved to fit.  In other words, he was a whopping 15 inches long!!!  Oh no, I didn't call him Godzilla for nothing!  This guy was BIG and he was in my bedroom shoe closet.

Without a doubt, I knew that if I lost sight of Godzilla before Husband got home to remove it, we'd have to sell the house.  I absolutely would not be able to stay here ever again.  And I'm not kidding.

Call me crazy but I hate lizards and snakes that much.

So there I was, my arthritic knees aching and feeling like the blood circulation in my legs was nearing its end.  My head, bent down to see into the cubbie, throbbed, and I was in a panic that Godzilla would make a move before I could figure out how to trap him in place.

What to do, what to do.

I finally spotted a clear plastic bin not far away that was the exact width of the cubbie so I could see what Godzilla was up to.  But, it had small 1/4 inch holes in it.  I sized up the holes and the lizard and was confident in thinking Godzilla would never fit through them.  He was a very big guy and these hole were pretty small.

Thank gawd.

So while keeping eyes on Godzilla, I maneuvered around to reach the plastic bin with my foot, kicked it contents and slammed it up against the cubbie.  I swear I heard the angels sing.  What a relief. 

Godzilla and I stayed in place--  Me, still bent over on my knees and him, calmly stretched out in my cubbie.  For SURE, I thought, Husband would be home to rescue me any second.  After all, it had been at least 30 minutes since we were on the phone.  WTH?!?!?!

Tick, tick, tick, tick....

Godzilla started looking board, his neck stretching out as if to get a better look at the situation.  I squeaked out some nose to scare him to stay in place but he'd been there so long he was ready to make a move.

I was so stinking happy to have that clear plastic bin covering the cubbie opening holding him in place.  I wouldn't have to touch Godzilla with my bare hands or worse, risk loosing him all together, and that was a very good thing.  He could move around the cubbie all he wanted but he was not going anywhere.

Right?

Wrong.

Godzilla got his nerve up, despite my screaming, and crawled into the plastic bin.  Then he stuck his head though one of the 1/4 inch holes.

C.R.A.P.

Where was my husband!!!

Then he did the unthinkable!  Godzilla started squeezing his BODY through the holes as if someone had pulled the strings on a very tight corset making him freakishly thin.  I became a lunatic screaming, this time a loud shrill streams of !@#%$! and I banged on the bin with my shoe until he squeezed his sorry self back into the cubbie.

I nearly had a heart attack.  Godzilla actually looked unfazed.

Still on my knees, butt in the air, I called that lizard and my missing-in-action-husband every name in the book.  If Godzilla so much as blinked I screamed him back into the corner.

We sat there like that-- blinking, screaming, backing up, for another full hour before my husband calmly walked in and asked if the "little lizard" was gone.

One look at my ghost white face and the darts shooting out of my eyes at him was a solid clue that the lizard was still in 'da house.

I immediately sent husband to find a few supplies that would allow him to slide Godzilla out of the cubbie and into a box with a secure lid so he could be removed.

Ten minutes later and with none of the supplies, I agreed to change positions with my husband providing he swore on his children's lives not to take his eyes off Godzilla-- and yes, that meant he would need to be on his knees, head bent down to the ground at eye level resulting in his butt being in the air.

Husband also agreed that if he lost that lizard I would immediately be moving into the Four Seasons Hotel until a new home had been found for us to live in-- I was taking no chance at crossing paths with Godzilla ever again.

Husband knew better than to disagree with me.

We made the guard duty switch and off I went gathering the necessary supplies.  I returned in less than 3 minutes and prepared to pass the box to Husband.  But...  Husband looked a little green in the face.

Apparently Godzilla tried to make a quick escape through the plastic bin holes in my absence and Husband saw his life, and our bank account, pass before his eyes until he got Godzilla under control and back in the cubbie.  (In hindsight, I'd have liked to have seen that.  Ha!  Coming home an hour and 45 minutes after I screamed on telephone.  Sheesh.)

So now it's obvious that Husband, who is not good at this kind of thing anyway, was not going to do the deed and get Godzilla into the box.  That would be my job.

Again, I made him swear that if anything went wrong and Godzilla was not removed from our house, that I would be living elsewhere.

With the patio door to our bedroom wide open, I said a prayer and wiggled Godzilla into a box using a backscratcher.  He flopped in and the lid was slammed shut.  My hands were shaking and I could feel Godzilla moving around in the box.

By now,  it was all I could do to stand up.  My legs were numb and with the box in my hands I couldn't use them to help me up.  That freaking lizard took years off my life.

When I finally made it to the patio, I flung the box as hard and as far as I could-- Watching Godzilla exit the box and swan dive onto the grass.  He landed, shook himself off and sauntered into a heap of yellow tiger lilies by the pool... Before losing sight of me, he stopped, looked over his shoulder and gave me a look like "I'll show you lady."

And he did.

Because now I can never go into the back yard again.

What scares the daylights out of you?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: © Andrey Burmakin - Fotolia.com  © seyhoeroglu - Fotolia.com  © Lonely - Fotolia.com

Remote

I feel like the "I've Dropped The Remote And I Can't Pick It Up" tee-shirt wearer, only worse!  Our television's Universal Remote is starting to break and I'm a bit freaked out about it.

And by "starting to break" I mean it doesn't work when it's in my husband's hand.  For the life of him, he can NOT get the remote to turn "Off".  It turns "On" just fine for him-- With the touch of one glorious "universal" button, we hear three small clicks indicating the flat screen, cable box and DVD player are all "On" and working perfectly.  But turning it "Off" is simply not in his powers.

He's changed the Remote's four batteries three times... talked to it... cursed at it... shaken it... tapped it in the palm of his hand repeatedly, cursed some more, and pushed, pushed, pushed the "Off" button-- And nothing!

Me?  One click and the deed is done.  The TV equipment is "Off" and I'm on my way.

What's wrong with that picture?  Husband has never been "Off button challenged" in the past, it only started about a month ago.  I've tried telling him to use his "On" finger, which works perfectly fine,  to turn the stuff "Off" but no luck.  I'm at a loss.  So is he.

The idea of getting a new Universal Remote is daunting.  There is no way I will EVER be able to program it myself which makes for a bit of an expense to hire someone to do it for me... Here in Los Angeles that'll run about $300 for a house call plus the new Remote!

So, do I buy a new Universal Remote and make husband's life easier or do I tie garlic around his neck to ward off evil Universal Remote spirits?  I'd really like to avoid the cash payout so I'm open to suggestions?

What do you think?
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: © antonbrand - Fotolia.com

Thanksgiving Comes First

As I sit watching TV with a half eaten bag of Halloween candy, I am reminded, despite the barrage of Christmas commercials and the numerous news reports of people camped out in from of retailers for days to get "early bird" specials on Black Friday, that Thanksgiving Comes First.

And really, it should-- Thanksgiving coming first, that is-- Especially since it's early this year-- November 22nd.  To that end, I'm focusing on the things I am thankful for while I ignore the non-stop Christmas music on the easy listening radio stations and the endless stream of Christmas commercializing from retailers on the TV that started well before Halloween.  And I'm making a point of NOT Chri$tma$ $hopping before Thanksgiving to put my money where my mouth is, so to speak.

Instead, in the 22 days leading up to Thanksgiving I am focusing on the many things I am thankful for...

1.  Chocolate.  Because just one bite helps minimize angst, exhaustion and anxiety.

2.  Lumpy turkey gravy.  It immediately reminds me of my late great-grandmother who made the best ever.

Dad, Mom, Granny and me - circa 1964-ish.

3.  Holding hands when my Ohio family says grace before a meal-- even if we're in a restaurant.  Stopping everything everyone is doing to hold hands and give thanks for the day and the meal we are about to share brings tears to my eyes.

4.  My grandparents-- The ones who always welcomed me with open arms and unconditional love.  My first Thanksgiving memories were at the kids' table in their crowded kitchen-- warm from all the cooking and so many people crammed into the small room that the windows "steamed up".

5.  Cool whip.  'Nuff said.

6.  Jello, because it's not Thanksgiving without it.

7.  Friends.  True friends.  Mine are few but priceless.

8.  100 watt light bulbs-- A lot of them, and having them turned on-- All.  The.  Time.  These days I'm still a little spooked because of these idiots so I'm lighting things up day and night to remind myself how thankful I am to have a home, even if it is all glass.

9.  Prayers for my loved ones in need.  Knowing that on a daily basis, loving and generous people I have never met, pray-- by name, for the well-being of people I care about is absolutely humbling and deeply appreciated.

10. My sewing machine and the ability to use my arthritic hands well enough to make this quilt for Middle Sister as a house warming present...

11. A whole week of school vacation for Thanksgiving-- Godson (now in high school) and I have big plans.  And to say that I am thankful that I'm still cool enough for him to hang out with is an understatement.

12. The old cemetery in my hometown.  It's a beautiful place where my dad and his side of the family are all buried.  Rain, shine, blazing heat or brutal winters-- it makes no difference. It's the place to go to be surrounded by love and peace.

13.  I give thanks for breakfast.  Second only to Thanksgiving dinner, it's hands down, my favorite meal.

14.  Flannel pajamas and warm fuzzy socks.

Mom and her dog, Noah.

 15.  I'm thankful for strong female role models growing up.  I had more than my share-- starting with my mother.

16.  All twelve of my nieces and nephews.  They full my heart with joy.

17.  My brother-- The one to call in case of an emergency.  He's rock solid, gives great advice, never judges, and loves with his whole heart.

My siblings and I - circa 1966-ish.

18.  My three sisters--  I can bare my soul to all of them and vice-a-versa.  We are blessed to have each other.

19.  Monopoly-- the game, because it's brought multiple generations of my family together after Thanksgiving dinner for more years than I can count.

20.  I am very thankful for my husband, the love of my life.

21.  My husband.  Because it's worth repeating.

22.  Grandma Lee's Nude Apple Pie.  It was a family favorite dessert, although it was a cake, not a pie and, it was "naked" because there was no frosting.  Gram kept the "recipe" on a 3" X 5" index card covered with spattered ingredients from decades of use.  The thing is though, that the recipe lists all the ingredients but not the quantities.  And her "secret" ingredient that made the cake so darn delicious was never written down.  No matter how hard we've tried, my sisters and I have never been able to come even remotely close to duplicating her cake.  But, the memory of Grandma Lee's cake is still vivid in our minds, especially at Thanksgiving.  And for that reason alone, I don't want to rush past Thanksgiving-- I want to linger in the memories and the joy it brings.

Thanks to Suldog, a terrific blogger and writer, for always reminding us that Thanksgiving Comes First.  Check it out HERE.  

Happy Thanksgiving.  xo jj
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins

A Really Good Wife

Husband is a UCLA football fan-- Big time!

For the past several years, his team has taken a beating from its cross-town rival USC.

UCLA has a pretty good football team this year (for a change).

We have 50 yard line seats at the Rose Bowl which does NOT have a roof.

It was pouring rain on game day/Saturday.

Pouring.  Rain.

This wife drove her UCLA alumni husband to the Rose Bowl and stood in the rain for 4 long hours.

UCLA won!  (Thank gawd.)

Should there ever be any doubt, this wife has photographic proof of what a reallllly good wife she is.

'Nuff said.

How's your Sunday?

For more Sundays In My City CLICK HERE.
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins

May

It's almost May.  I'm sure you know that already, but it somehow crept up on me this year-- along with the other four months that proceeded it.  I'm still writing 2011 on my checks and trying to find the Valentine card I bought for my husband-- but still can't find.

May-- already!

Thinking about the past four months of this year has me wondering what the heck I've been doing.  I certainly haven't blogged very much, although this is my 450th post.

I flipped though my calendar-- The old fashioned paper kind because I just can't seem to part with a big page and a month's worth of "to dos" noted all in one place, and realize so far this year I've...

--Been to various doctors 17 times-- mostly routine visits, or at least for nothing major.  Some of my docs are close to free city parking lots.  Other parking garages charge $13.50 with no street parking available anywhere.  Ouch.

--Stopped at my new favorite fabric store 12 times and purchased 26 total yards of fabric.  This shop owner is smart and is located close to a $2.00 per hour parking lot.

--Made 5 quilts with some of the above mentioned fabric and have 3 more quilts in the works.  I suspect this is where most of my spare time has gone but I'm on a roll at the moment and warm weather is coming which is not "sewing season" for me.

--Attended one 150th birthday party for 2 great friends who celebrated their 75th birthdays together.  And I attended a 102nd birthday for a dear friend who is mentally sharper than most people I know.

--Tired unsuccessfully to get tickets to the Bruce Springstein concert this past weekend-- The concert that received such a rave review in the newspaper that I was green with envy when I heard a friend was actually there.

--Seven cakes have been in my oven, all from scratch and made for celebrations with family and friends.... except for the one chocolate cake I reallllly needed to cheer me up after one of the above mentioned doctor's appointments.

--Watched more basketball on television with Husband asleep in the chair next to me than I can count.  He's the basketball fan.  I am not.  What's wrong with that picture?

--Dreamed of my own garden filled with tomatoes and herbs but remembered I do not have a green thumb when it comes to vegetables so I promised my BFF I'd help weed her gigantic garden if she shares her harvest with me... She would anyway but I'm making a conscious effort to pick weeds every week.

--Pulled 47 recipes from various magazines but have yet to make a single one. I need to work on that.  Not sure if I'll stop saving recipes or start cooking more.

--Bought a bathing suit online.  Note to self: Big mistake.

--And, I picked my first arm load of white Iceberg Roses of the year.  These are for you.  I'll be around soon to visit.

How's your Sunday?
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins
Top Photo Credit: © Jitka Laníková - Fotolia.com

Timing Is Everything

Every since I took this picture last weekend, I've been thinking about timing and the impact the phrase "in the right place at the right time" has had on so many of the paths-- large and small, my life has taken. I realize this isn't a fabulous photograph-- the butterfly is a little blurry and it's not framed all that great, but it's the fact that I've never seen a blue butterfly before and that I just happened to be in that exact spot at that exact time to snap the photo with the wings showing my favorite color blue that's made me so happy.

When I checked my camera to see if I'd captured the butterfly before it flew away I was excited as a school girl which is an oddly unusual thing for me to do. It's been many decades since I was even remotely considered "a girl" and the excitement it generated was pretty out of proportion for me. Nevertheless, I started thinking about the times in my life I've "been in the right place...."

The top of my list would have to be the airport in Milan, Italy where I met my husband thanks to a very delayed flight back to Los Angeles. The odds of us both being in the same place at the same time with a third person who could introduce us is so out of the norm that I hesitate to think what would have happened had I slept in that morning 22 years ago and taken a later flight.

There was another time everything worked perfectly in my favor and I was directly outside the hospital delivery room at the precise moment my oldest niece was born....Which actually meant that several other people were NOT in the right place at the right time *ahem*security*cough* so I could sneak into that area of the hospital. I was even more lucky that the head nurse took pity on me and actually brought my niece out for me to hold when she was just minutes old. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about how beautiful and tiny she was in my arms.

And then there was the time I was in the doorway of Godson's kindergarten at the end of the day to hear another child ask him who the lady was picking him up. His deadpan response was "she's my wife". Being in the right place at the right time gave me one of my fondest memories of carpooling him after school.

It's the little things-- and big things-- that make me appreciate "perfect timing". Why the blue butterfly has me taking a trip down memory lane remembering these things is a mystery but I'm enjoy the mental tour of the finer times of my life.

Have you been in the right place at the right time?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Sheesh & Giveaway!

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I was never much of a basketball fan until I was invited to a Los Angeles Lakers vs Boston Celtics game back in the day-- The days of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird and their huge rivalry. It was my first ever professional basketball game.

In the early 1990s they played at the old Forum, not the hip new Staples Center like they do today. I was "just a date" for my now Husband and a little unsure of what I was getting myself into. He said it was "compliments of his business bankers" and we'd eat at the Forum then watch the game with them. I basically expected to meet a couple of very serious old guys in dark suits and, honestly, didn't think it sounded all that fun.

This was back in my big hair and short skirts days but since it was a basketball game, I pictured it being barely a step above bleachers and hot dogs. So I dressed nice, but casually in jeans, and ate before I left since hot dogs and beer, my impressions of typical "game food", were not a favorite.

The VIP Parking Valet was my first clue that the night might be a little more than I'd anticipated. We were directed to the Forum Club for dinner where we met the banker, a 30-something guy and his young wife. Things were looking up.

The menu had only three entree choices-- Chicken, Filet Mignon or Lobster and the prices were, in my opinion, astronomical. I'd hosted my share of business dinners and always was put off when "the date" would order every expensive item on the menu eating like there was no tomorrow, so I remembered what my mother taught me and ordered the lowest priced $50 (!) chicken and tap water. Husband had the steak.

The banker and his wife both ordered the $125 Lobster dinners along with an unusually expensive bottle of white wine.

When it came time for dessert, husband and I passed but the banker ordered four desserts to-go so they could give them to their kids in the morning-- Those cost more than my nasty, dry chicken, by the way.

On to the game. When I was handed my ticket, I nearly chocked. They were center court floor seats costing $500 each! My first thought... Dang, I should have ordered the Lobster!

We sat directly across from Jack Nicholson and Warren Beatty. I swooned. But when the players come out-- Oh. My. Gosh! Those guys were amazing.

When they dribbled the ball, our seats vibrated. When they ran past us, it felt like a small earthquake. When they scored long shots, the Forum rocked! It was honestly one of the most exciting things I've ever seen in person-- And I'm not even a basketball fan.

Husband and I have talked about that night many times in the past 20 years. First because of the price of things, since he doesn't consider himself or his company all that big of a deal to warrant such treatment. Second because shortly thereafter, his business banker whined that they had to relinquish their floor seats because the (then) economy was tanking. And third, because within the year, the 30-something banker's boss was laid-off and not replaced for budgetary reasons.

I'm pretty sure four season ticket floor seats would have covered the boss' salary and then some.

We saw the young banker and his wife three or four more times for dinner over the next several years. I continued to order the cheapest thing on the menu and they continued to eat like kings and queens then order take-out for their growing kids, all paid for with his Bank's lavish expense account.

I know "perks" are a part of doing business and have passed on and received more than my share during my career. But I'm always surprised when the "perks" are so excessive.

And I'm even more surprised when the businesses doling out these massive "perks" don't learn their lesson and repeat the excessive spending cycle over and over again.

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I spotted the now 50-something banker and his wife, with doggie bag under their seat, at a recent Laker's game-- Floor seats, center court, right across from Jack Nicholson.

Sheesh.

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Photo Credit: © Orlando Florin Rosu - Fotolia.com

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Perfect Moment

I'm generally a "stay in the moment" and always move forward kind of girl but today I was asked a question that took me down memory lane....

What one perfect moment in your life would you relive if you had the opportunity?

It was posed as the perfect moment without changing a single thing-- A time of pure bliss that brings you joy just thinking about it...

The person asking me the question didn't have an answer at first then she said she had a flash-- And her moment was the birth of her only child more than 50 years ago-- A healthy 9 1/2 pound baby boy delivered with no pain medication. She said it was her most joyful and creative moment ever.

I'm still scrolling though the perfect moments of my life and I know I'm blessed to have many to choose from. They range from moments I was smack in the middle of, to moments when I was an observer of loved ones at their "perfect moment". It's hard to decide on just one but I'm leaning towards the moment I knew my husband was "the one" for me.

How about you?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Photo Credit: © Lisa Turay - Fotolia.com

What I Did NOT Do On My Summer Vacation

Since I was so bold as to proclaim all the things I was planning to do this summer HERE, I think it's only fair to tally up my accomplishments and own up to the fact that I pretty much failed-- at least if you just look at the numbers. I'm barely 50/50.

Oh I had grand ideas, but you know what they say about carefully laid plans. Life got in the way, along with Mother Nature, missing motivation, distractions and a few unexpected twists and turns along the way.

On the top of my summer "to-do" list was spending more time connecting with friends over potluck dinners. Applause please-- I did really well on this goal. Beloved Husband and I entertained a lot this past summer and we're really glad we did. You just can't beat good food and quality time with loved ones. And, with all the cooking and grilling I did, this simple "confetti corn" recipe turned out to be the hit of the summer.

Second on the list was planting tomatoes and trying my hand at gardening... Again. Four plants and a full summer later, I harvested a whopping 7 tomatoes. Big sigh. I am still not gardener. But I made up for my lack of a green thumb at Farmer's Markets. I bought so many heirloom tomatoes that some weeks I was giving them away like those lucky folks who have awesome gardens of their own. But I always owned up to the fact that I purchased the tomatoes rather than grew them myself-- At least most of the time I did.

As for my trip to Ohio with Godson to meet my newborn great-niece-- Number Three on the list, all I can say is SCORE! It was such a fabulous trip that Godson and I are still talking about. And for your viewing enjoyment, here's a new pic of our still tiny but growing bundle of joy.

I get high marks on my goal of long weekend getaways, day trips and a vacation to New York City with Beloved-- Resolution Number Four. Hubby made a very concentrated effort to spend less time at the office and more time relaxing. It was a real treat for me and I took full advantage by getting us out of the house.

That brings me to Number Five-- The @#$%^&! treadmill and exercising pledge. Let's just say I laid a big fat goose egg on making that happen-- "Fat" being the operative word. See Resolution #1 and #4 and all the eating, entertaining and traveling that helped pack on several extra pounds. In short, I ate my way through summer vacation.

After all the angst, construction and expense of fixing our sinking pool and deck, goal Number Six on the list was nearly a total bust-- Pool parties. Mother Nature did not cut a break to Southern Californians near the beach and graced us with some unusually cold temperatures while the rest of the country got blasted with a major heat wave. So the pool was only used once all summer-- for about 30 minutes. On one hand, I like looking out the window and seeing the back yard stable and secure again. On the other hand, it was a very expensive dip in the pool.

Yoga and finding "zen" was Number Seven on the list and all I can say is that it's still on the list. (I didn't even buy a mat or yoga pants yet. Not even the excuse to shop made that happen.)

Same goes for Number Eight-- reading War and Peace, only it's not on the list anymore. Who was I kidding?!? But I did read all three books about the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and Eat, Love, Pray. That's four more books than I finished all winter.

Which brings me to Number Nine on the list and remembering to cut fresh flowers and roses from the garden. Check and check. I did that A LOT this summer, and when there weren't any in the garden to cut, I brought big bunches home from Farmer's Markets and the Flower Mart. Ahh, that made me really happy. (Full disclosure-- I still do not have a green thumb but I do have a man who tends to the roses for me.)

And last but not least, my "fluff" to-do item on the list-- Number Ten-- "mindless entertainment" started with the sequel to Sex In The City. What a dog of a movie, but it didn't deter me. With minimal expectations and occasionally a pair of ear plugs, I also saw Flipped, Inception, Salt, Iron Man 2, and Robinhood-- And if those movies don't qualify for "mindless" I don't know what does. I also saw, and loved, Mao's Last Dancer. (Now I'm waiting for the Wall Street sequel to hit theaters.)

So technically speaking, that adds up to just "so-so" on my summer "to-do" list. Not exactly a glowing sense of accomplishment but as September begins I'm feeling pretty good about the meaningful connections with friends, family and my sweet husband this summer, and I'm looking forward to continuing as the year presses on.

I also have another trip planned to Ohio to see my family and a trip with Beloved back to NYC again for a reunion with his fabulous cousins this fall. Still, I know War and Peace will never be in my book bag and tomatoes will not grace my garden, but I'm okay with that.

What I do have to do however, is to get my head around the whole treadmill, yoga, "zen" thing. Seriously, I'm 52 years old. It's time to get over the love/hate relationship I have with exercise and stress. I've come to realize fitness is feast-or-famine with me, and yes, I acknowledge the pun. But it seems the older I get, the better I get at procrastinating the work it requires.

So as we move into the later quarter of 2010, I'm not making a year end "to-do" list. Rather I'm just going to "do" better at, and more of, the things that are important to me and stop wrestling with the things I need to be doing. Just saying it makes it feel a bit easier.

Are you a list maker?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Photo Credit: © Bob Faulkner - Fotolia.com

Summer Means...

One of the perks of living in Southern California in the summertime is that the weather is pretty much the same, day in and day out-- Sunny and dry. Now that we're past the gray "June Gloom", July is making up for it and it's been pretty glorious.

That means barbecues, swimming, fresh tomatoes from the garden and, and, and..... Those gawd awful ants that appear seemingly out of nowhere and, in most cases, for no reason.

They drive me crazy!

The thing is though, I don't mind ants with a "purpose" so to speak. At least then I know why I have them and can easily figure out how to get rid of them-- Like when an unnamed husband leaves a big glob of strawberry jam on the counter after making toast for breakfast.

If I don't see it, we're going to get a mountain of ants marching across the window frame, down the wall, onto the counter, down, into, up and over the sinks, then onto the toaster area for a bite of jam.

In this case I know where the ants start and where it ends... And by ending, I mean dinner reservations because the glob of jam cost me about 90 minutes of scrubbing the kitchen to rid the annoying creatures from our eating area. These types of ant encounters are not fun but at least I can resolve the "attack" relatively quickly.

But today-- Today is a very different ant attack and I am one unhappy girl. Today, I have ants in my pants (Eeeek!!!) and it's going to take way more than 90 minutes to rectify.

A few years ago I splurged and had my bedroom closet built out with drawers and shelves and all things organized. I'm a neat freak and it truly is paradise for me. It was done by one of those closet organizing companies in one day. I love it so much that some days I just stare into it and admire everything in its place. Ahhhh.

This is so not my bedroom or closet, but a girl can dream can't she...

Today is a whole other story and it shattered my world. The damn ants arrived-- in my closet-- My beautiful pristine closet! It's my oasis of organizational calm that holds everything from the leather gloves I wear once every ten years to my pants-- My underpants.

And I so am not happy.

To make matters worse, after two hours of removing, "de-anting" and searching high and low, I still cannot for the life of me figure out the source of the annoying creatures and why they decided to attack my granny panties rather than, oh say... the half eaten piece of toast with peanut butter and honey that I discovered in the kitchen sink when I went searching for the "ant attack" supplies. (Apparently that same unnamed husband forgot where the dishwasher was this morning. Big sigh.)

I'd be happy with this closet but I wouldn't share it with

my jam dropping, dishes in the sink unnamed husband.

So far, every single thing is out of my closet, some has been taken outside and shaken to insure the tiny pests are gone, others things-- like my panties, are in the washing machine with the hottest water possible. But still I see those tiny specs walking around on the white closet surface.

Where? Are? They? Coming? From?

If I had this closet would I have to wear all one color palate of clothes?

I scrubbed and cleaned some more, then inspected the perfectly clean, white surface and saw no ants in sight. But by the time I sat down-- really in a blink, smack dab in the middle of the drawer was another ant! How could that itsy-bitsy four-legged spec move so fast-- and from where?

The only thing I know for sure is that I refuse to surrender! The entire bedroom will be cleaned, scrubbed, vacuumed, dusted, sprayed and cleaned again and again before I sleep in there.

Not my closet either but I'd be very happy with it.

As for the ants in my pants. I'm pretty sure I'll be shopping for all new ones before the day is done.

Any tips to get rid of the creepy crawly feeling of ants?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Photo Credit: Top - © mark huls - Fotolia.com

Sundays In My City #39 - Gladiola & GIVEAWAY

I'm a happy member of the Sundays In My City Community (SIMC) by Unknown Mami. Wanna join? Click HERE.

This picture was taken on Friday of this week.

For the past eighteen years, a lone gladiola has gotten the better of me-- Some would even say it's kicked my butt.

It's not that I have anything against gladiolas, I don't really, it's just that they are not my favorite flower and not what I had planned for our backyard garden circling the pool. The gladiola was, apparently, a favorite of the gardener we inherited when hubby bought our house.

Back then, I was "just a girlfriend" as the gardener used to refer to me as. That repeated comment, to my face I might add, led to his name-- Heir Gardener. He was a cranky old geezer who used to cuss me out under his breath in German, his native language. He'd been tending the garden for gawd knows how long for the previous home owner and gave me nothing but attitude whenever he saw me.

Why Heir Gardener had it in for me from day one I'll never understand, but I think the straw that finally broke the camel's back and soured our relationship forever-- was when hubby had the pool and deck installed resulting in "his garden" being disturbed and many of his plants, including a ratty looking bonsai tree that he'd babied for years, being removed. And trust me, it was one ugly bonsai.

The pool and deck was a big deal for my then boyfriend who asked me to spearhead the yard makeover. I love to garden and gathered my coveted back issues of Sunset Magazine, scouring the pages for the perfect examples of what the pool area should look like when newly planted.

I didn't want there to be any misunderstanding between Heir Gardner and me so when Beloved and I decided on the dozen plants for the yard, we provided him with a detailed drawing-- a blueprint so to speak, of which plants went where along with magazine photo examples of the look we wanted. Beloved and I both presented the design ideas to Heir Gardener so he knew we meant business. Or maybe not.

He sneered and complained and nearly flat-out fainted when told the bonsai tree was history and needed to be removed, and he hated our flower choices. Heir Gardener was one unhappy camper and stormed out of the meeting with a "whatever" wave of his hand.

A few weeks later, I arrive at the house after work one night to see the yard had been planted-- with absolutely nothing we had discussed. Days later when I asked Heir Gardener what happened to our plan, he assured me that after a season of growth it would look exactly the way I wanted.

I must have been wearing my stupid face that day because I knew better. The reality was he did it his way, not ours.

Steam was coming out of my ears by the time Beloved returned home from the office to see the "planting", and I use that term loosely, because when we received the bill for the "flowers", Heir Gardener had purchased exactly one flat of them-- no where near enough for a yard of our size. Remember, we were starting from scratch and requested twelve different types of plants and flowers!

Grrrrrrrr!

Fast forward to Beloved feeling sorry for Heir Gardener because he was so old and figured he'd be retiring soon. So, I washed my hands of the project, because as stated, I was "just the girlfriend" back then and moved on.

When spring arrived several months later, up popped four gladiolas which were absolutely not on the original plant list. They stuck out like a sore thumb next to the swimming pool with even Beloved laughing, because what do you do with just four gladiolas and why did the gardener plant them in the first place!

Beloved helped me dig them up and replaced them with a large bunch of tiger lilies-- a flower on our original plant list. Heir Gardener was not amused and we *ahem* parted ways shortly thereafter.

Once again Beloved requested my assistance (begging and pleading was required) and we did the planting ourselves, making countless trips to the nursery, followed by many, many weekends of planting to bring the garden to the state we had desired. We still laugh about the original "one flat" of flowers which were so pathetic I never even took a picture for the scrapbook.

But since that first Spring way back when, every stinking year, I've pulled up that one remaining gladiola. I've stomped on it, chopped it, hacked it, sprayed it and thought I'd rid the garden of it once and for all. But that lone gladiola still sprouts, teasing and taunting me with it's glorious colors.

This winter, when we dug up the garden to repair our sinking pool and deck, I thought-- FINALLY, that damn gladiola will be history. After all, most of the plants were removed, dirt came and went and came again, and finally new planting was complete. No way that gladiola could survive.

Yes way!

It's back in full bloom. So this summer, after years of gardening angst, today I officially surrender. The gladiola wins.

How does your garden grow?

Don't for get to enter my $80 CSNStores.com Gift Certificate GIVEAWAY. Leave a comment on this post. And, Click HERE for more chances to win!

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

For more Sundays In My City Click HERE.