Put your right foot in…

….and then take your right foot out and HOLY CRAP shake it like all about like mad, and then scream bloody murder. Sadly, I am not doing the Hokey Pokey, but shaking off a swarm of yellow jackets whose home I happened to be mowing over.

That’s right, Meg stepped on a big old nest of nasty ground wasps while attempting to conduct a mind-clearing clipping of the lawn. (Am I weird like that? It makes me feel much more organized and orderly to see a manicured lawn free of weeds).

And in horror movie-like fashion, they came after me as I ran to the house. I was in my kitchen picking them off my clothes and stomping on them. I then tried to figure out how many times I had been stung, and then sat ready to dial 911 in case the anaphylactic shock set in and I needed the fire department to cart me off to the hospital. Luckily (should I even use that word????) normal breathing continued while all my extremities swelled. Rememer those filmstrips from grade school of people with Elephantiasis in Asia and Africa??? That would be my foot.

After a great night of beauty sleep, off to the doctor I went. She gave me a course of prednisone for the next two weeks, which might mean I’ll be juiced and crazy? I asked if iced and flavored vodka could be prescribed too, and she recommended Gray Goose Orange. (Love you Dr. Kate!)

hand1 hand2
Why Madge, do you use Palmolive on that right hand – it’s so soft and smooth like a baby’s bottom!


When I eerily woke up at 1:30 early this morning, I saw the breaking news that Senator Kennedy had passed away. I actually got a chill, as Leo and I were just talking about it before we went to bed last night. Premonition I guess.

They always called him the Lion of the Senate, and I think that was a great moniker, with that leonine shock of hair and big smile. He actually reminded me of my Dad, as he had that same shock of white hair and great smile (even though Dad’s were dentures at that point!)

Here’s to the Lions that have passed on.



And on a serious note, some thoughts on personal responsibility

The Sunday magazine section of the Globe featured an article in a regular column called “Perspective“. This week’s perspective was brought to us by someone caught in a personal mortgage crisis. And now they are giving a big thanks to Uncle Sam, for his apparent empty promise of help.

God knows, we are reading tragic stories every day. Many people have been taken advantage of, and scores of families are simply a paycheck away from disaster. It’s a disgrace. Many banks ignored the looming crisis and continued to line their own greedy pockets. And many people foolishly wanted the American Dream so much, that they blindly ignored all common sense in a quest for a home.

So let’s look at Mr. Perspective’s situation and assess:

Mr. P, (who is actually the City Hall Bureau Chief for the Globe) finds a nice brownstone in the South End of Boston. He proceeds to sign up with COUNTRYWIDE HOME LOANS for 100 PERCENT FINANCING. Should I go on further or should we just stop there????


Mr. P goes on to say:
“The deal also came with low, interest-only installments for seven years. After that, the monthly payments would go up, to what level I didn’t know and frankly didn’t care, because surely I would get out of the loan before then — I could either sell the residence for a profit or refinance it with another loan at a fixed rate with stable payments.”

Mr P. is also assessing the value of his home and lamenting it’s downturn. He did this on Zillow, which everyone know is the last word on actual home value and pricing. Hmm, I just went to Zillow, and they don’t even remotely have the correct information on my home.

Looking to the government for help at makinghomeaffordable.com, Mr P. was directed to Bank of America, which bought out Countrywide and all of it’s loans. And he was batted around like a catnip mouse between departments as to whether he qualified. A month later, quote, he is still waiting for a phone call.

The upshot: Mr. P has now lost all faith in government. And he concludes “how could they possibly handle the health care crisis”? Oh snap, what a way to wrap up your story!

There are so many questions here I don’t even know where to begin. But I know you smart readers have are already making the Scooby-Doo squeal as you read about Mr. P, and have given him not a Hallelujah, but a ROT-RO. And I need go no further.

In conclusion Mr. P, I am going to go out on a limb here, and say I think YOUR PERSPECTIVE is a little off. Suck it up.

Look Who’s Guest Blogging?


Look who is wandering the neighborhood! I had no idea the Family Circus had gone Web 2.0, as they still appear trapped in the 1960’s, along with their friends Davey and Goliath.

Hey Billy, never mind your blog! Don’t you and your family already have a wealth of material for Dotted Line Sundays? Mrs. Lessard needs to hire you for some chores today, and chief among them is being her guest blogger.

Billy, you rock! You were able to sum up my week with your crisp and concise talk bubbles! I see you are checking your watch, but could you possibly mow my lawn?

Afterward, I’ll teach you how to make a martini so you can show off to all your friends.

What’s in My Wallet?

Well Capital One,

Here’s what’s NOT in my wallet:

What’s in my wallet is my ONE credit card issued through my credit union, the one I’ve belonged to for 25 years. And my debit card from the same institution. Plus a AAA card, medical info, and some small amount of cash. But NOTHING from CAPITAL ONE. EVER.

But yet, I see from my caller ID, you have called under the guise of at least three different 800 numbers, numerous times to my house. But you see, I’m not a customer. I never have been. I never will be.

So here I am on a national DO NOT CALL LIST, and you interrupt the work flow of my day and generally annoy me. And I start to resemble this guy when I see your heinous number on my caller ID, and that is not good for my blood pressure:


And sadly, I can’t flush my toilet in your earpiece, because you are a computer in India. So that trick would be lost on you, and I would have wasted many gallons of water and lost all credibility in my quest to be environmentally conscious.


So, may I appeal to the Capital One CEO? That would be Richard Fairbank, or as I like to call him, Dick.

Dear Dick,

I have decided to charge you for each and every unwanted phone call to my home at the rate of one million dollars. Be sure and check your mail for the bill totaling $15 million dollars. Oh, and I charge interest if payment isn’t submitted within 30 days.

Have a great day,

Field of Dreams

Going to a Red Sox game used to be so easy. For all of Leo and Meg’s dating and married life, you could decide on that day if you wanted to go to a game. Walk up to the box office, and voila, some seats in the sun, some popcorn and beer. Good times.

Now, you apparently have to make a pact with the devil to get a ticket. And oh, P.S. now you have dirtballs like StubHub that snap up all the tickets so it’s impossible to really see any type of entertainment whatsoever.

Somehow, some way, Leo managed to purchase tickets from redsox.com for face value. Which I can deal with. Here’s what we were treated to Tuesday night:


For the first inning or two, things were looking pretty bad, and I was paying more attention to how fast the food vendors were sprinting around the park.


I contemplated a blog entry called “Ode to Concession Workers”! I love seeing kids work that hard, it warms my heart.

Then things got fun:


OH YES! A good old-fashioned brawl with players charging the mound and police on the field! That perked me right up.

A few home runs ensued, and a charged up Red Sox team took the lead!!!!!! But BOO HISS, the rains came:

But, all was not lost. Just before the pesky rain, a ball came careening our way. I ducked, but just look who caught their very first major league baseball at 50 years old!


Way to go Leo! Isn’t is exciting to know you can still feel like you are 7 years old?