Friday, July 1, 2016

Linda's Letters

Saturday, October 18, 2014

I just returned from an Old Broads Convention.

In reality, it was the 16th annual New England Traditions Convention for decorative painters, held in Marlborough, Massachusetts.

I said it was an Old Broads Convention because I swear, out of the almost 300 attendees, most were women, and one transvestite, with 90 percent of them over the age of 60. Half of them were probably over 70. Some walked with canes, others with walkers and there were even a couple with their Jazzy.

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Our brain has over 100 billion brain cells, called neurons. Each one of those has between 10-50 glia cells. I'm no Einstein, but, that's a lot of brain cells.

After about the age of 35, we begin to lose about 7,000 brain cells. A day.

I tell you all this because I'm convinced I've only got about 7,000 of those little suckers left. Period. And if there's any new ones showing up, I think they're playing Hide and seek with me.

Saturday, October 4, 2014

I'm singing a song right now. Perhaps you'll remember it. The Coasters recorded it in 1959. It goes like this:

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Sometimes I'm a bad girl.

I did a terrible thing last night.

I "shushed" Harry.

And I did it in a mean way.

My favorite TV program, "The Big Bang Theory" was making its new season debut. I had made it home in time from a meeting, snuggled comfortably in my chair, and then Harry's mouth began going a mile a minute. I finally turned to him and said, (prepare yourself to gasp) "I'm either going to have to videotape this or you have to stop talking." Imagine my surprise that I hurt his feelings.

Saturday, September 20, 2014


(Sing the following to George Jones' song, "The Race is On.")

"Now the race is on and here comes Linda up the backstretch,

Heart attack is going on the inside.

My tears are holding back,

They're trying not to fall,

Harry's still in the running,

My true love's banking the Chevrolet.

The race is on and it looks like we're flying

And if we live, we win it all."

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Joan Rivers, rest in peace. You did your job. You made America laugh.

I think I enjoyed Joan Rivers because she took many of life's truths and showed us the humor in them.

When she asked, "Can we talk?" you knew she was going to tell it like it was ... with wit and comedic wisecracks.

Joan: The first time I see a jogger smiling, I'll consider it.

Linda: I see joggers running up and down the sidewalk in front of my office every day. Nothing on their faces indicates they're having a good time.

Saturday, September 6, 2014


Grammy wore an apron, gray hair neatly permed.

When I sat on her lap,

I never squirmed.

She made the best, softest sugar cookies,

Days spent with her were treasured goodies.

Pappy taught me how to pick a fishworm,

I watched him tie flies with knots so firm.

If his baseball team lost, oh what a fuss!

It was through him I learned how to cuss.

Mammy's apron wiped many a scratch and tear,

She rocked me and tickled me, kept me near.

No request I made was too large or small,

Saturday, August 30, 2014

If you have a squeamish stomach, or if the subject matter is too uncouth for you, then please read no further, because I'm going to talk potty.

No, not dirty. Potty. Like in toilet. Latrine. Commode. The Head. Hopper. The John. Lavatory. Loo. Necessary. Outhouse. Porcelain Throne. Pot. Privy. Reading Room. Restroom. Throne. Water Closet. Little Girl's Room. Just a few of the 101 names for the potty that I could find online.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

I open the drawer. As I search for a clean pair of underwear, I bypass the first two pairs because I know the elastic is all stretched out. I haven't thrown them out yet because they're good in a pinch. As I hit the bottom of the drawer, I realize one of them is pinch-hitting today.

Harry's wearing the sexy paisley silk boxer shorts I bought him one year for an anniversary present. He's not wearing them to turn me on. He's just desperate. His plain white tighty whities are MIA.

I release a heavy sigh.

It's time to do the laundry.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Just so you know, I am not a hoarder. Well, I am not a hoarder if you compare me to someone featured on the TV show "Hoarders." Or like someone Frank and Mike might encounter on one of their picks on "American Pickers" when they think they've found a honey hole.

The definition of "hoard" is "to amass and hide or store things."

Well, I think we're all a little guilty of that. So maybe I'm a titch of a hoarder.

I have a couple of drawers that might qualify for "hoarding."