Blog #12: EXERCISING MY RIGHT TO WHINE

        

Believe it or not, there’s a lot to whine about in a group exercise class -- like the other members.  At the top of my whine list is the Floor Hog, who invariably saunters into the room three to five minutes after the class begins and sets up shop within inches of me. There is an intuitive and tacitly agreed upon distance between exercisers, and the Floor Hog violates that rule.  If I stay where I am, I will bang into her (and she into me), but if I move to the right, then I’ll run into someone else.  Doesn’t the Floor Hog see this?   

Yes, of course, she does.  But hers is a deliberate tactic, executed to guarantee herself her favorite spot on the floor.  It works like this: If she arrives early to claim her space (like the rest of us), she risks having it usurped by some other Floor Hog, coming in late, and forcing her to move.  Her modus operandi is to be the MOVEher, rather than the Moveme.   

I re-position my mat and equipment a foot to the right, thereby forcing the person to my right to move further to her right.  She glares at me, and I point an accusatory finger at the Floor Hog.  She nods and moves, thereby forcing the person to her right to also move – and so it goes, down the row.       

You think I’m making this up?  That I’m paranoid? I’m not.  It’s very real, substantiated by the Floor Hog’s body language.  From the door… to the floor …she avoids all eye contact, appearing almost catatonic, as she inveigles her way into your floor space, seemingly oblivious to your existence.  Her eyes are glued on the instructor, and she quickly joins the exercise.  But at the end of the set, her persona changes.  She surveys the room, makes eye contact with me and smiles.  It’s not a warm, loving smile but a snide one, that says, “won again.”   I’m not going to take it anymore, I tell myself.  The next time she pulls this on me I’m going to tell her to move her fat ass to some other space, where no one is standing.   

Another annoying type is Motor Mouth.  Lord only knows what conditions created this monster… 

Maybe she lives alone and suffers from sound deprivation…or she simply loves to hear the sound of her own voice… but whatever the underlying pathology, why do I have to suffer?  Ignoring her doesn’t help because she doesn’t need a respondent.  Any upright body within hearing distance is enough to provoke her blather.  I want to say, “Shut the hell up,” but I don’t because I was raised to be polite.  We don’t offend. We let others offend us.     

The most annoying member of an exercise class is the Pseudo-Jock.  She doesn’t just walk into a room.  She makes an Olympian entrance, moving with long athletic strides, and carrying in one hand a signature gym bag,  the gym bag of  ...

     … champions, and in the other hand is a water   bottle.  It’s not just any old generic water bottle but a “Survivor's”  bottle. 

No, she’s not a survivor of a life-threatening disease but apparently the survivor of a hard-fought and won confrontation between man and man or man and beast.   To know what cataclysmic events the Pseudo Jock has survived, one need only read the imprints on her many macho workout shirts.

   

Today’s shirt reads: “Survived the Gulag.” Last week it was “Amazing Race Finalist” and yesterday --  “Last One Standing.”  I was tempted to ask if she was the last one standing in Murphy’s Bar, but I didn’t because I was raised to be polite.   

There is only one element missing from Pseudo-Jock's costume – a sweatband.  But she doesn’t disappoint. She reaches into her (otherwise empty) gym bag and pulls out a florescent green sweatband, stretches it  over her very short curly hair, and languorously covers her brow.  She needs a sweatband like I need a hole in my head.  This class isn’t called “Suddenly Senior” for nothing.  We range in age from 60 to 80, and no one – not anyone – has ever been worked hard enough to drum up even a bead of sweat! 

 I want to suggest that this senescent wannabe -- twenty years past her prime -- drop our class and take "To the Death" instead, down the hall in Studio Z.  That's where they work up a sweat, and that's where an occasional body is carried out on a stretcher.  But I keep my thoughts to myself. 

 Another irritant is the Exercise Dyslexic. She’s the one who moves to the right when everyone else is moving left.  The class steps forward…she moves backward, stepping on your feet.  You try not to look at her because her contra-moves are  disorientating.  She should move to the back row where she can do less damage, but I don't say anything because I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

Newbies should also go to the back of the room; at least, until such a time when they’re familiar with the exercises.  The first row should be restricted to people who know the routines and who, in a large class can be an example for those towards the back of the room, who may not be able to see the instructor.    

You ever suffer the Perfume Shpritzers?    

 

Personally, I’d rather stand next to a farter.  The stink of a fart usually dissipates after a few minutes, while perfume stench hangs on for the entire class.  Someone needs to tell the Shpritzer that she reeks and is giving us a headache, but no one does.  We don't want to offend, no matter the offense.     

And don’t think the instructors are beyond criticism. There are a number whose classes I’ve dropped because they waste time -- arriving late or waiting until class time to decide the exercise program for the day.  Some raise the music volume so high I have to take out my hearing aids.  Others music selections leave a lot to be desired -- funeral dirges and hip hop.      

But the worst, the very worst sin an instructor can commit is to be PERKY. I don’t do “perky,” not at any time of the day or night! There is NO acceptable time to be subjected to high-pitched cutesy dribble; such as what the instructor had for dinner the night before… 

…or what her precocious six year old child said at breakfast that morning.  After five minutes of blather and no audience response, our chirpy cheerleader decides to change tactics: to query us rather than make statements.      

“Who has a good recipe for Chicken a la King?” she asks.  No one answers.  “I heard a fascinating story on radio this morning about the Loch Ness Monster.  Did anyone else hear it?”  Still no answer so once again Perky changes her approach. Now she’s personalizes:  “Carol, what are you planning to do after class today?”

I'm not going to take it anymore, I think.  “Drop this class,” I answer. 
                                

                                     Whiningly yours, Carol

BLOG #11: HOW COME? ...

           

                            

… you can’t buy a single top or bottom sheet anymore?    HOW COME bed sheets are almost always sold in sets, when every fool knows that sheets don’t wear out in sets.  A bottom sheet gets more wear and tear than a top.

 

And where is it written that top and bottom sheets have to match? Maybe I want a white sheet on top and flowers on the bottom.  Or maybe I don’t want a top sheet at all.  Maybe I use a comforter.  You know what I think?  It’s a conspiracy to make us spend more money.

HOW COME I never lose a PAIR of anything?  HOW COME I only lose ONE earring or ONE glove?   

You know what I think?  Designers and manufacturers should sell earrings and gloves in sets of three and more.   

HOW COME clothing designers are possessed with wrapping striped fabrics horizontally around our bodies rather than vertically … when every fool knows that horizontal lines make thin people look fat and fat people look like trucks.  You know what I think?  Clothing designers are in cahoots with the diet industry. 

HOW COME after I say “thank you,” no one says “you’re welcome” anymore?  HOW COME I’m always answered, “No prob” (= no problem)?    Trust me, I know it’s “no prob.”  If I thought “it” was going to be a “prob,” I would never have asked in the first place!    

HOW COME no one writes songs with singable tunes anymore?  Or songs with comprehensible lyrics?  How come today’s songs can’t be repeated?  HOW COME all the songs sound the same?   You know what I think?  They ARE the same.  I don’t think there have been any new songs since 1995.  It’s just the same old song being recycled under a new title.      

HOW COME cars run into trains?  Aren’t trains big enough for drivers to see them coming?  You know what I think?  Departments of Motor Vehicles should add train crossings to road tests.   

 

HOW COME maternity clothes look like street wear ….

 ... and street wear looks like maternity clothes?

 

HOW COME no one’s ever at fault anymore?  How come when something goes wrong it’s always someone else’s doing?  You know what I think?  We have a blameless society.  No one is responsible -- not to themselves and not to anyone else.   

HOW COME the more contraceptive methods and devices available on the market, the greater the number of abortions?   HOW COME with THE pill, diaphragms, condoms, night-before and morning-after pills, patches, shots, rings, rods, and sponges readily available, there are more and more unwanted pregnancies?  You know what I think?  Like I said above – “no one is responsible anymore – not to themselves and not to anyone else.”

HOW COME with the growth of communication devices, people communicate less and less with each other? 

 HOW COME every time I find a cosmetic I like, the manufacturer either takes it off the market or repackages it, simultaneously shrinking the content and raising the price?

HOW COME every time I tell a friend I like the way her hair looks, she tells me she’s on her way to get it cut? 

HOW COME  there are more and more blow dryers in public bathrooms when research shows that paper towels are more effective and efficient.  Blow dryers not only spread germs from 3’ to 6’ but use more energy than paper towels, and dry your hands out. 

Know what I think?   It’s a cost-cutter for management.

 

 HOW COME I get twice as many red lights on days when I'm running late than I do when I have all the time in the world? 

HOW COME my lists never get shorter?  HOW COME after I’ve gone to the post office, the food store, the pharmacy, seen the dentist, and returned stuff I shouldn't have bought, the next day’s list is even longer than the list from the day before? HOW COME my lists never get shorter?

HOW COME?  …

                    …..   I DON’T GET IT. 

….. DO YOU?

Whiningly yours, Carol

 

THE ASSAULT OF CARDS, COUPONS, POINTS, PUNCHES, AND STAMPTS

 

As I was paying for my yogurt at the new TCBY store in town, the cashier asked if didn’t want their customer loyalty card.  “Buy 10, get the 11th one free,” she said, pushing the card in my face.

Only a fool wouldn’t want something for nothing. Right?   So I took the card and shoved it into my already bulging wallet (bulging with loyalty cards – not cash).

               

From TCBY, I went to CVS to buy a new lipstick, the current one worn down to metal.  A sign over the Revlon lipsticks read:  Buy one, get the second at 50% off.  I handed two lipsticks -- pink blush -- to the cashier.

"Your CVS customer loyalty card," she said.

 

I dumped my stack of loyalty cards on the counter -- alas, no CVS. “I don’t have one,” I apologized.     

“Then you can’t have the special,” the cashier scolded. 

“But that offer comes from Revlon, not CVS.”   

“No loyalty card, no special. Perhaps you would like to enroll in our program.”  

“No, I’m going to Walgreen’s.  They don’t card you!”

At Walgreen’s, I found my lipsticks (same special offered) and handed them to the cashier.   

“Your Walgreen’s Balance Reward Card, please,” she said.

 “Since when?” 

“Since October 25, 2012.  You do want to sign up for our card, don’t you?”  I didn’t answer.  “With your Balance Rewards card you not only qualify for in-store specials but you earn spaving points.”

“What’s ‘spaving’?” 

“Every time you spend, you save.”

Only a fool wouldn’t want something for nothing, right?  So I gave the cashier my name, address, home and cell numbers, e-mail address, the whereabouts of my first born child and was rewarded with a Walgreen’s “Balance” card -- and an information sheet.  When I got home, I read the contract (with the help of a high-powered magnifying glass) and learned that:

1.  Not all Walgreen purchases are created equal.  To learn which items are designated point-givers on any given week, one would have to read all their newspaper ads or walk the store aisles, checking the shelves.  

2.  Designated “point” products are only eligible for points (rewards) when purchased on  designated days of the week… and …

3.   The purchase of designated products on designated days of the week only earn reward points if the customer spends a designated minimum amount.  

Customer (not Company) "loyalty" doesn't end there.  Once-earned balance points are  zapped by Walgreen’s if the customer doesn't “spend” his/her points within 36 months or if their account is inactive for six months.  Furthermore, it is up to the customer to keep track of their account activity.  At least the airlines send a monthly statement!  To what use is Walgreen's putting all that personal information I gave them?  
      

As for their promise to "spave" me money (= the more I spend, the more I save), I decided to check that out for myself. 

To accumulate 5,000 points and earn a $5.00 credit, I would have to spend approximately $50.00 at Walgreen’s  (remember: spending is limited to designated products. )  Doing so would earn me (not save me) about 10%, but as I browsed through the week’s designated point-givers, I saw nothing I needed, nothing I wanted, and nothing I couldn’t buy elsewhere for less money.   

I made a rational decision.  I reached for the scissors....

 

After my Walgreen's Off-Balance card had been eliminated, thirty more "rewards" cards suffered the same fate.  It was time to get honest with myself, I thought, eying the mess of crumpled coupons at the bottom of my purse.     

                        

I was an unmitigated coupon failure. I either forgot to use them while they were active, I remembered to use them after they had expired, or I redeemed them on a Wednesday when the coupon clearly stated it was only good on Thursday between the hours of two and five o’clock.   

I threw the coupons into the waste basket and promised myself that no coupon would  ever touch my fingertips again.  That would eliminate 50% of my supermarket angst.  The other 50% was beyond my control --  that of the Coupon Commandos.

Have you noticed that they always do their grocery shopping at the busiest time of day?  That's no accident.   They’re hoping the cashiers will be too busy to notice that a third of their sixty coupons have expired, another third is for brands other than those in the cart, or that they’ve taken dozens more cans, boxes, or bottles than the coupons allow for (thereby stripping the shelves like locusts and leaving nothing behind for anyone else).

My cashier, unfortnately, catches and challenges a Coupon Commando Crook.  She pages the manager (who's out on break), while I wait...and wait...and wait (as does everyone else in line). That's why I find the title of Joanie Deever and Heather Wheeler's book on coupon strategies particularly galling  --

"Pick Another Checkout Lane, honey"  

What management needs to do is create a designated lane for Coupon Commandos, and let them wait for each other!    

One of the more ghoulish coupons is the offer from the Chapel of the Highlands, a burial service provider in Millbrae, California. To get a 20% cremation discount you need to present your coupon “prior” to your (or you loved one’s) demise -- and before the “deadline” on the coupon (no pun intended). 

But why should I whine about coupon madness when the ones who are really being screwed are the manufacturers themselves? Losses from the illegal duplication of their coupon offers have cost them upwards of tens of millions of dollars.

A case in point: the Desperado Housewives of Phoenix, Arizona, who counterfeited legitimate coupons and sold them on E-Bay or their own websites.  When police raided their homes, they found $25 million in counterfeit coupons

My pledge for 2013 is no more cards, coupons, or points. Their loyalty comes at too high a price; instead, I'll pledge my loyalty to those establishments that offer me quality merchandise at consistently competetive prices.

But if you’re still into cards and coupons, here's some advice:   

1.      Never pay for a coupon.  If you have to pay, you’re not only not getting a deal, but it’s more than likely you’re being scammed, and the real deal is available elsewhere for free.

2.      Avoid what’s called “bait and switch.” That’s when someone offers you an on-line coupon code, but you first have to provide personal information.

3.   Go straight to the source.  Sign up for e-mails from the stores you frequent and get your coupons from them directly.

                                              Whiningly yours,   Carol

BLOG #9: THE DEATH OF THE OTHER

                     l

In April of this year at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery, Lindsey Stone mocked the sign that reads "Silence and Respect" by giving it her middle finger and pretending to scream.  So proud was she of her own derring-do that she posted this photo of herself on Facebook for millions to see.

Stone’s uncivil behavior demonstrates a total disregard for the OTHER and an obsessive love of SELF. There is, unfortunately, a growing epidemic of narcissistic Lindsey Stones in our culture, ranging from ordinary citizens…to celebs … to our political and business leaders.

There’s tennis star Serene Williams, who threatened a line judge at the U.S.Open, Roger Federer cursing an empire after a bad shot, Tiger Woods throwing a temper tantrum in public, and baseball players tossing buckets of water on the field to protest unpopular calls.       

These incidents may seem innocuous, but research shows that allowing even minor incivilities to go unchecked can lead to more serious offenses.

A tourist in Baltimore was recently beaten, stripped naked, and robbed while spectators stood by and watched.  Not one person came to help him; in fact, those witnessing the event found the incident so amusing that that they videotaped and later posted it on you tube: You can hear their laughter in the background.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zL1VMWqVrbY

Anthony Weiner, Congressman, husband, and father was caught Twitter sexting with six different women over a three-year period. Below is the photo of himself he tweeted to his young Twits.    

 

Apparently he thinks his pecs are the best part of his body.  He should know.

Then there’s our elite Secret Service agents, sent to Cartegena,Columbia to arrange for the President’s safety during his upcoming visit this year.  They spent most of their time carousing with hookers.  Not only could their childish behavior have compromised their mission, but it could have put the President at risk.

And as with all adolescents, photos were taken to memorialize their heroics --

One has to wonder what they were thinking, though according to my wise old grandmother, they weren’t thinking at all:  “When the prick is up, the brain is down.”

The General Services Administration’s (GSA) mission (as stated on their web site) reads:  “…to support decisions that … wring out inefficiencies in operations… and to manage resources with (the) utmost care and ( with) an obsession for no waste.”   

To this frugal end, Chief of the GSA, Jeffrey Neely, along with fellow agents, spent $750,000 of the taxpayer’s money on themselves during a four-day retreat in Las Vegas this year. They “thanked” their providers by staging a “comedy show,” wherein they joked and sang about the many clever ways they spent our money.

And, as always, there are the photos, evidence of how effective they are at spending other people's money.  

 

Then there’s the former head of the C.I.A., General Petraeus, who has not only provided us with a fresh meaning for the term “embedded journalists” (thanks, Jack) but makes us wonder if the Agency’s named shouldn’t be changed from “Central” Intelligence to the more accurate "Between-the-Legs Intelligence." Petraeus' brain had to have descended for him not to know that a g-mail account is the easiest of all to hack into and that his mistress,Ms. Broadspent, was making off with classified documents. 

              

Petraeus not only mocked his wife and family but broke faith with the public.

For a collection of uncivil, boorish, and ill-mannered people, head to a coffee shop.  That's where customers act like they're at home -- or worse.

 

They put their feet up on tables, pick their noses, clean their teeth, nails and ears, comb their hair, talk loudly on their cell phones, and even bring their own food and drinks into the store.  

Disregard for the OTHER has spread to the retail sector, where cashiers at checkout counters have been trained by Management to ask unsuspecting customers for donations to Management's favorite charities.  Management, of course, will take the credit -- both economic and philanthropic. 

Walgreen's management has circumvented the cashier by adding an additional step to the credit card process.  You cannot finalize your purchase without first answering the question "Would you like to donate money to..."  

Some banks decided -- without asking the OTHER -- that customers would like to have tellers call them by their first names.  Wrong! Like most people I know, we like deciding that for ourselves.  

Incivilities can be visual as well as auditory and physical. --  like the public display of private parts, most so ugly, they should never be exposed -- not even in private.  

As for the immodest exposure of pretty parts, ...

it's going to come to a bad end. 

Once upon a time it  took only an ankle and a lilttle imagination to titillate. When ankles became ho-hum, the entire leg was exposed. We are up to the breasts now, so in-your-face, begging to be plucked.  Keep it up, and in time they too will cease to arouse and be limited to milk production. What happens then -- when the female body runs out of never-before-seen parts to display in public?  Will humans cease to procreate?

But that's another question  for another day. Back to the original one: what’s a person to do when confronted by uncivil behavior?

The city of Brussels, the capital of Belgium and the E.U, had been plagued for years by dog poop in the streets, spitting and urinating in public, nose-picking, harassment of women, and much more.  Citizens felt threatened, and criminals felt welcome.  The mayor finally decided that enough was enough and initiated a campaign called “Be Kind or Be Fined!”  Perpetrators are now fined up to $300 per uncivil incident.  Fines are quickly collected, and incivilities are on the decline.

Municipalities can do that as a collective, but what can individuals do?  Professor P.M. Forni in his book “Choosing Civility” provides us with twenty-five rules to live by for improving public discourse.  Curiously, at the heart of all twenty-five is the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.”  If each of us pretended to be the OTHER before doing or saying, this  would be a better, more peaceful world with good will to all.  

Best wishes for a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and a kinder, gentler  world.

Whiningly yours, Carol

                         

#8: DON'T MAKE ME UNFRIEND YOU!

I got onto Facebook last week and found the following message from www.unfriendapp.com:

                                  "SEE WHO UNFRIENDED YOU!"

My first reaction was: “Who are you?” and then: “How would you know about my friends?”

I followed the link to Unfriendapp’s website and learned I was being tracked (as is everyone else on Facebook).  Every time we log in a scan is run on our friends’ lists and compared to our last log in. Any downward changes are recorded, and we are quickly notified that we’ve been UNFRIENDED!

                               

From UnfriendApp’s hype, you’d think being unfriended was an uplifting event.

                      

                  * Really Works!  100% verified and real.
                  * Over 100,000 users love UnfriendApp!
                  * Unfrienders will be reported within 15 minutes.
                  * The results will SHOCK you!

They’re right about one thing – I am shocked, shocked they are tracking and broadcasting information thought to be private.  I’m also shocked that possibly hurtful information is being released with such gusto.  I’m shocked that Facebook allows Unfriendapp to slither through its bowels collecting data, and most of all I’m shocked because I don’t remember agreeing to release “unfriending” data.   

UnfriendApp isn’t the only snarky company spying on us.  A quick search found others:  www.unfriendfinder.com, www.unfriendlyviewer.com, and www.iddodz.com, though there are probably more.   

Unlike UnfriendApp, Unfriendfinder doesn’t consider unfriending someone a reason for celebration.  It melodramatically labels the Unfriender as “unfaithful” and suggests  Unfriended ones install their “little red counter button” on their menu bar -- to catch the brute (and all others in the future).   

www.idoodz.com has a 99-cent app for your smart phone, which will let you know as soon as you’ve been dumped -- at home or away. They are working on the next generation of their app, which promises to make Unfriending "more public."   

I wonder what they have in mind.  Maybe a Scarlet "U" branded into the Dumpee's forehead...

... or punishment at the pillory for being the victim of an Unfriending.

Of course, Facebook subscribers can do for themselves manually what UnfriendApp et. al. do electronically, but the likelihood of that happening is minimal. Without outside interference, most people would never know they’ve been dumped, and even if they did, they’d probably not bother hand-counting friends each time they logged in. 

Without these electronic ambulance chasers, most       Unfriending events  would -- by default -- become non-events.  

But missed non-events are missed opportunities...so let the fun begin by ferreting out:

          the vulnerable ...

(those who have been down the Facebook tunnel for so long they care more about the quantity of friends than their quality)…

                                                 ... the vindictive....

... and the jealous...

                                         

When I was young, telling secrets (if discovered) resulted in public tauntings, such        as“Tattle tale, tattle tale, stick your head in a garbage pail.” This was not a label anyone wanted.  You were also taught that spying and preying on the defenseless ( = bullying

was unacceptable, and certainly anyone who broke the code didn’t advertise it.  

But the world’s been turned upside down, standing the old rules on their heads.  What was once considered private and respected as such is now public fair game, despite who gets hurt along the way.  This new morality is explained by a deep thinker whose writings I found on www.makeuseof.com:

“It is probably true that people deserve the right to unfriend people in privacy, but turning it into such a secret makes the whole thing seem illegitimate. So what if I unfriended someone? People have the right to use Facebook as they see fit, and if someone is hurt because someone else unfriended him, well, that’s tough….”

That’s the new syllogism for the 21^st Century:  PRIVACY = SECRET: SECRET= ILLEGITIMATE; ergo: privacy = illegitimate.   

I only got onto Facebook because I’d written a novel (“Coming of Age…AGAIN”) and the marketing gurus said that social websites were the place to promote it. Supposedly I would make hundreds of new, literate friends who would buy my book and tell others about it.

The first stranger to invite me to be her friend arrived on my P.C. dressed in nothing but a G-string, her breasts so perky I suspected they were silicon implants.  If only she'd been wearing reading glasses, I might have said yes.

I also subscribed to Twitter.  “Follow people who have lots of Followers,” I was advised.  “And send them Zingers.  Zingers are guaranteed to be Retweeted, and Retweets with your name and credits should send you and your novel viral.”

My son, the talented architect Todd Barnett, found me the Zinger: a cross-section of streets in Madison, WI named Margaret and Atwood.  He sent me a photo.

 

I checked out the famous author – Margaret Atwood.  She had  648 followers (640 more than me) so I Followed her and sent the Zinger photo along with my name and author page link on Amazon.  Guess what happened.  

The famous author retweeted the photo all right -- but minus my name and credits.  Hell, she didn’t even have the decency to thank me! (You can see why I’ve taken to whining).

After receipt of my dumping notification from UnfriendApp, I wondered if Twitter also let predator companies scan their data.  A search brought up:  www.who.unfollowed.com, www.friendorfollow.com., www.whounfollowedme.com, , www.justunfollow.com, www.useqwitter.com, www.unfollowers.me, and www,.manageflitter.com.

ManageFlitter’s pitch is more like a pitchfork: 1) Find people who have already UNfollowed you and Unfollow them. (Do you follow that?); 2) Unfollow people who have become inactive (logic escapes me), and 3) Unfollow Tweeters who Twitter too much (overachievers).  
  

THE BOTTOM WHINE: To Follow or not to Follow.  To friend or not to Friend.  Those are the questions.  What are the answers?   
   
                                   Whiningly yours,  Carol

         www.amazon.com/author/carolmizrahi

www.carolmizrahi.com
www.thebottomwhine.blogspot.com

                                              Four friends of a "certain age" prove
                                              that with a mix of moxie, humor, wisdom,
                                              and a weekly mahjongg game, coming of age
                                              can happen more than once.             

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