Will Strip For Mango

After arriving home from work, I quickly unlocked the door and stepped into my home to escape the heat this afternoon. Without hesitation, I ripped off my clothes until I stood naked in the middle of the kitchen. My blood sugar was low and I needed to cool off, so I carefully peeled a lusciously ripe mango. The cold, wet fruit helped me to forget about how much I detest the summer's heat.

Almost.



After completely removing the peel, I flipped each one over to scrape the tender mango with my teeth. The sweetness of this exotic fruit helped me to stop shaking. I know better than to miss my afternoon snack, but today everyone was so grouchy that I was consumed in fixing problems and trying to stay positive.

Slicing off a chunk of the delectable fruit, I thought about how much I love the way my polished red nails look against the bright orange of the mango flesh.



Not one to dawdle over my food, I took a bite. The succulent juice threatened to drip down my chin, but I wasn't going to let one drop be wasted.

So I took another bite.

Slurp.



Bella apparently believed that I would have one of my normal catastrophes as she stood motionless staring at the floor around my feet.

"Sorry puppy," I said brightly as I took another bite of the perfectly ripened mango, "I'm not going to drop anything on the floor."

Slurp.

The air conditioner was blowing a huge burst of cold air into the kitchen, but I was still very hot. People think that not being able to sweat would be a lovely problem, but when it gets hot, not sweating is sometimes a nightmare. My body just keeps all the heat stored inside and it is tough not to overheat.

Bite.

Slurp.

Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the swoosh of cold air, the sweet fleshy mango in my mouth and a sense of relief to finally be home.

There are definitely advantages to getting home first - like being able to stand naked in the kitchen while eating a cold, ripe mango...slowly as the cold air whirls around me.

Bite.

Slurp.



If Alyssa was to unexpectedly come home and find me naked in the kitchen eating the last mango, I know exactly what she would say...

"Gross Mom! Put on some clothes!"

Bite.

Slurp.

Poor child.

Some day she will go through menopause and the word "hot" will take on a whole new meaning. There is no heat like the wrath of menopause on a rampage during summer.

Bella whined realizing that I surely must be getting close to the end of the succulent mango. She was right. I was starting to see the whiteness of the large mango seed.

Bite.

Slurp.



How can one piece of fruit, cold air and nakedness feel so exhilarating?

I love the air conditioner.

I wonder who invented the air conditioner. I don't think I've ever had that as a fact on my daily tweets. I should look it up and do a day of air conditioner tweets.

Bite.

Scrape.

Slurp.

I hated to see the orange flesh of the mango disappear. It had to be the juiciest mango I've ever eaten. Something positive can definitely be said about very ripe fruit on sale. It is truly the best of both circumstances - discounts that save money and perfectly ripened mangoes.

The mango flesh was gone, so I picked up the plate and drank the juice that had accumulated from the dripping. I thought about all the times my mother told me that "Ladies do not lick the plate or slurp." I'm sure she probably said they don't stand naked in the kitchen either.

Boy did I break those rules today.

I threw what was left of the skins into the trash, rinsed my knife and plate, put it in the dishwasher and then just stood in the middle of the kitchen. Bella started barking at me, but it was probably because I didn't give her a mango, not because I was naked.

Men just can not understand this overheated, summer menopause thing. It really is best to be naked when it's hot. I am sure they would not mind us all being naked more often, but the hormonal heat....yeah, they are clueless.

I wish I had another mango.

Maybe if I put a sign in my window, "Will strip for mango," a neighbor might bring me one.

Well, on second thought, maybe not.

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I Am A Super Sweet Marshmallow

You probably think you are looking at marshmallows in a bowl.

First of all, I always thought it was marshmellow and not marshmallow. Why do we use an "a" instead of an "e"???

Anyway, these marshmallows (I hate having to type an "a") are much larger than the average little doohinkity white puffs you throw in hot chocolate. What you are looking at are HUGE marshmallows. They are by far the biggest I've ever seen, but of course, I live under a rock in seclusion most of the time and was born before dinosaurs roamed the earth. I mean really, I still have Farrah hair!

Regardless of the size, marshmallows are very soft, squishy and sweet. Please notice that all of those words start with an "s" just like my real name. Not The Redhead Riter, the name I was given at birth.

I have other things in common with these sugary splendors. (Did you catch the "s" in those two words?)

My heart and body is like the pink marshmallow in many ways.

I'm soft and fluffy because I am having a hard time controlling my weight with my slowing menopausal metabolism and diabetes. On top of that, the spoon that is loaded with ice cream won't leave me alone. No, really, it chases me around my home, so I have to eat it.

That ice cream does help with my emotional state, but only adds to the glow-in-the-dark flesh that is on my posterior end. Well, it isn't really there as much as a little bit ALL OVER.

The pink marshmallow is also squishy, smooshy and easily melts.

My heart beats with too much compassion and it melts with just the slightest of reciprocal love. However, I often do not require the other person to be accountable for their actions towards me. So this little squishy heart of mine gets taken advantage of and is smooshed often which causes great emotional pain.

Guess what?

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Hearts heal.

Eventually.

I like loving easily. I don't want to be cold or bitter.

I would say that so far, I'm doing pretty good!

The marshmallow is no match for my sweetness. I am the Queen of Sweet whether I am consuming it or acting like it.

I know that was stretching it a bit, but I have to go overboard with the self-talk in order for any of it to actually stick for longer than five seconds. (Please tell me you didn't miss the pun with "stick" and "sticky")



Wait! Do I see wrinkles on that marshmallow? Isn't there any escape?! I'm even wrinkled when I'm a marshmallow!!

Now it is your turn to go stand in front of the mirror and do a little talking to yourself. What are you going to say to help build yourself up??

Come on, don't be shy! Tell me how great you are because I already know you're wonderful! I promise it will help you feel better.









Your Marshmallow Friend who might be a little high on sugar,

Please don't tell my mother.

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It's Best To Be Naked When It's Hot

Oh my goodness!

I believe that there are some experiences in life that can not be explained with words or pictures. Although an explanation might thoroughly cover the topic, the full thrust is never quite conveyed. Those are the moments that one must experience first hand in order to fully appreciate all that it encompasses.

Redheads are in the minority. Some people actually hate red hair, so I guess it is lucky for them that they don't have to see that many redheads. I know quite a bit about being a redhead since it is one of those things that I experience first hand every day of my life.

Usually a redhead has fair skin that won't tan and thus the title of PALE also accompanies them throughout their life. Once again, that is my curse and if you looked like I do at the beach, you would think it was a curse too. I have a great attitude about it most of the time and have even incorporated my paleness into my nickname. The way I look at it now is that I rather have pale skin than not have any skin at all. Have you ever thought of it that way? I bet not probably because you are tan, but that's okay....Some day my freckles are all going to have a reunion and I'm going to have a tan index finger.

There are many reasons for being hot and in the summer months when the temperatures are soaring into the triple digits, it just makes it more uncomfortable if there are other things that are adding to the heat too. For example, pregnant women are carrying an extra amount of weight with a huge hormonal orchestra going on in their body, so adding sweltering heat to the mix isn't very pleasant. Just thinking about being pregnant at all during this stage of my life causes my temperature to blast to the top of the thermometer.

At the end of July, the temperature has been almost more than I could tolerate. If it wasn't for a great air conditioner at work and home, I would surely just not make it through the day.

I am the ultimate pale skinned, redheaded wimp with allergies, the inability to sweat, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera (Make sure you read that the way Yul Brenner said it in the movie The King and I. You can go back and try it again. I'll wait for you.)

Being a bit older has afforded me time to learn all kinds of things. In preparation for the winter of my life, I've read all about menopause. Parts of it sound just maaaaa-rvelous darrrr-ling, but other aspects of that great change seem rather dreadful! I'm choosing to dwell on the positive, however, last night it was rather difficult to think about anything except the heat.

I usually fall asleep in thirty seconds which aggravates everyone. I haven't totally figured that one out yet. I was blogging in my Terrier pajamas my sister gave me (I'm no vision from Victoria Secret that's for sure) and enjoying the lovely air conditioning as the weatherman on television proclaimed that we lived through a scorcher. I personally think the word wasn't strong enough, but my mother told me not to say the words I'd like to use.

Finally, it was bedtime and I plopped into bed, closed my eyes and knew that sleep was about to pull me into the soft flowing folds of oblivion. Much to my surprise, I felt hot (not like passionate or gorgeous), but hot like I was going to spontaneously combust! Heat permeated the cloth of my pajamas and the sheets. I ripped the blankets off and sat up thinking I was about to be sick.

Nope. I wasn't nauseated at all. I was just hot and I mean hot like the inside of the lava core found at the center of the Earth. The heat waves were spewing off my skin like a volcanic eruption times one hundred.

As I tore my pajamas off in a frenzy to release some of the unbearable heat, I decided that I hate men. That gender not only doesn't suffer years of a "friend" that totally wrecks every special occasion, but they snore through the atomic heat bomb women suffer when their friend decides she doesn't like or need you any more.

There I lay, emitting enough heat to peel the paint off the ceiling over my bed and wishing that the overhead fan generated enough wind to blow the blankets completely off the bed, totally naked.

Since the heat was emanating from the inside out, I knew there was only one way I was going to find any relief at all.

It's best to be naked in bed, eating ice cream that has been slathered with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, when the furnace within you is hot enough to keep Canada, Denmark and Siberia warm in the winter .




Your Menopausal Maven,

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Pink or Blue?

Maybe you've forgotten my wonder and worry over being pregnant.

I didn't forget and in the back of my mind it continued to niggle me until I found out the answer.

I must admit that in private I entertained visions of babies. (my mother probably just fainted) You know that I read thousands of blogs and see so many beautiful babies, so do you really think that I can be totally unaffected by all those chubby cheeks, toothless smiles and cute clothes?

Thoughts such as, "Would it be a boy or girl? I already have a fantastically wonderful daughter, so maybe a boy this time around would be a fun switch. But girls and their frilly dresses are so fun! I would be happy with either...or both! Wouldn't that be fantastic!" (my daughter is probably freaking out)

Image: source
"What would I do at my baby shower? Who would I invite?"

Image: source
"Would everyone think I was insane or would they be happy for me?" (the men just said "insane" and the women said "how wonderful!")


The more I thought about it, the more I longed to be young and pregnant again, but wouldn't mind being old and pregnant either. I started to hope that I was pregnant. (my husband has passed out now)

Having a baby is not something I take lightly. I thought about all the pros and cons, but in the end decided that I know it would be better for me physically if I wasn't pregnant. That was such a hard thing to admit after blocking it mostly out of my mind for the last seventeen years. To find that the desire to continue the more "needy" type motherhood hadn't disappeared wasn't really a shock. I am very thankful for my daughter who is really a miracle, but "what if I could have one more" started to make me really wish again just like when I was twenty years old. I don't think those emotions will ever die inside of me.

I did find it interesting how "behind the times" I was when it came to a few things such as pregnancy tests. My pregnancy post comment box and email was filled with advice about types of at home pregnancy tests. I guess it was proof, as one reader stated, that I do not watch much television because I had no idea I could find out so quickly if I was pregnant! The miracles of science never cease to amaze me!

The mind with all the rational analysis was completely opposite the heart's ever longing desires for increased motherhood. However, it is sad to discover that the same hormones which go crazy when a woman gets pregnant also go crazy when she begins menopause. That is such a terrible realization. One marks the beginning of life and the other marks the beginning of the end. I don't think I could have been much more depressed and it continues to linger as I sit here all alone with everyone sleeping.

My family will be most shocked at this posting because I did not share my feelings with anyone for fear of ridicule. With my husband out of work, it would be quite difficult financially while physically it would be dangerous given my history and current health and age. However, once I had the thought of a possible pregnancy in my head, I started getting secretly excited. I was calm, nonchalant and even played it down whenever someone mentioned it, but inside was a whirling tornado of emotions and thoughts.

Now that I know I'm not pregnant and that my journey to older age is looming steadily closer, I feel I deserve some kind of gift to begin my journey out of one era of my life and into another. I would have received gifts at a baby shower, so I can't think of any reason why I shouldn't get one now. My husband needs to make of note of my wish...I would like a pink diamond ring resembling one of the rings pictured below. Pink diamonds are rather expensive, so when you get hired for a job, please refer back to this post if you need a reminder.





I also want a matching pair of pink diamond stud earrings.
I don't think that is too much to ask considering all that my body has been through for the last thirty four years and obviously will continue in its torment of my hormones. But most of all, it is a small token compared to a soft skinned, silky haired, powdered, lotioned, diapered, cooing, and smiling baby wrapped in a fuzzy blanket.

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