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Do Wrinkles Hurt

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 Do Wrinkles Hurt? One of the twins asked me an innocent question years ago: “Do wrinkles hurt?” Yes, son. Yes they do. Every wrinkle has been carefully handcrafted through aggravation, frustration, exhaustion, bad decisions, stress eating, raising children, paying bills, and trying to remember why you walked into a room in the first place. Wrinkles are not random. They are life’s receipts. Every line tells a story. Some people have laugh lines. Some have worry lines. Some of us have “I raised twin boys and survived on caffeine and prayer” lines. The harder the life, the deeper the crease. Now men? Men somehow get away with wrinkles. A gray-haired man with wrinkles is called “distinguished.” A woman gets one tiny line beside her eye and suddenly she’s online researching miracle creams made from seaweed, snail slime, and the tears of financially broken women. Women are spending billions trying to fight nature. Starting at ages that  Creams. Serums. Masks. Rollers....
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At the Buffet This past weekend I came down to visit the Aunties, and to guarantee they have a decent meal take them to Golden Corral for one of those gigantic all-you-can-eat feasts that ought to require signing a medical waiver at the front door. Now let me just say this… time with the Aunties is precious. We laughed, visited, reminisced, and solved at least three world problems over yeast rolls and peach cobbler. My heart left fuller than my plate. Unfortunately, so did my waistband. Why is it that at a buffet, people suddenly lose all sense of reason and dignity? Somewhere between plate number two and the buttered yeast rolls, your brain starts whispering foolishness like, “You know what would go good with this fried chicken? A brownie.” You need to get your money’s worth! That’s the lie we tell ourselves at buffets. Nobody walks into a buffet saying, “I’ll just have a sensible portion.” No ma’am. A buffet turns ordinary church people into competitive eaters with glazed eyes and or...
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  NO Excuses for Inept Murdering! For somebody living in the golden age of surveillance cameras, DNA testing, cell phone tracking and true crime documentaries, criminals today sure can be astonishingly dumb. Twenty years ago, if a criminal wanted to get away with murder, they had to put in some effort. There was planning. Strategy. Details. A little mystery. The bad guy in old crime stories had to be smart enough to outwit investigators armed with nothing but a notepad, bad coffee and a fingerprint kit from 1978. Not anymore. Today, investigators can practically solve a crime before the suspect finishes posting vague Facebook quotes about betrayal and “fake people.” We now live in a world where your car tracks you, your phone tracks you, your watch tracks you and your neighbor’s Ring camera tracks you sneaking home with Taco Bell at midnight. Yet somehow criminals still think, “I can totally pull this off.” Bless their hearts. Crime television certainly hasn’t helped matters. Betwe...
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  Happiness is an ugly husband? According to the latest scientific study designed to ruin perfectly good marriages, women are happier with ugly husbands. ( https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-scientific-fundamentalist/200804/why-handsome-men-make-bad-husbands-ii ) Well fine. If misery means waking up beside Henry Cavill every morning, then I’ll suffer through it somehow.     But then, i t’s hard to be considered the ugly one in a relationship.   All this time, I thought a happy woman was married to a rich husband, who knew it had more to do with his face rather than his bank account.   Since when did ugly become the key to emotional stability? Rich I understand. Funny I understand. Handy around the house? Absolutely. But ugly?   What does ugly got to do with it!  What if your husband is better looking than you are but you both are considered attractive? How does that figure in the happiness scale if neither are ugly? I vaguely remember ano...
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  The Check Out Line Conspiracy   There you are minding your business -- and bam! They got you. You fall straight into their evil plan. Manipulated. Tempted. Baited by the shiny little lineup at the checkout counter…because they know.   You are now in the convenient check out line .   I try not to give in to the corporate plot of impulse buying—out of pure stubbornness—but I am weak, and their techniques are strong. I sometimes wonder if stores secretly refuse to open more registers on purpose. Slow the line down…trap me there…force me to stare at the convenient little goodies whispering, “Go ahead…you deserve this.” Add kids, and now it’s not just temptation alley—it’s a full-blown power struggle with whiny rugrats possessed by the “gimme-gimmes,” thanks to perfectly placed toys at eye level. Who gets all the way to the cashier and suddenly thinks, “Oh! I forgot a toy! I need a Hot Wheels car—fast!” Or an overpriced sucker with a spinning...
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ChatGpt: Ain't So Smart Afterall.... Why would I after a decade resurrect my writing career? My column? Especially when CHATGPT, AI and other digital gods are out there creating content and filling in the void of where talented and creative folks use to be… Simply, the know-it-all AI said I wasn’t a writer! Sure, the creepy online presence is constantly praising me and telling me what I want to hear and solving all my life’s problems… I asked it to tell me about myself and it said all kinds of nice things… OF course it did! Do I tell the little prompt on my screen all my dirty secrets and secret sins? My gossipy tendencies and how I watched Poldark not for the plot! And when I called the thing out for its artificial kissing my bottom, it praised me more and told me how wonderful I was to even bring up that I had fault!! Really? Our first real fight came when I asked it to summarize my writing career it faceplanted! “Just because you write at home doesn’t mean ...
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