Wiggles Surprises Everyone By Being All Substance, No Flash

Dateline: The Foggy Grey Splendor of San Francisco

Our security system consists of being the most run down house on the block.

Hot Pants clued our dozens of followers into the yummy Katz’s Delicatessen details and even managed to slip in a snapshot of myself and The Lord & Master (shhh – don’t ever let him know his actual face has appeared on this site!).

So what have I, Wiggles, to say about the renewing of our vows? On the serious side, renewing vows was way more fun than taking them as a 32 year old basket case with the emotional sophistication of Gidget. The L&M and I dressed down, skipped the rings, and just stood together before our family and friends and told the truth. And when the truth is as beautiful as our lives, that’s powerful stuff. I have done countless stupid things in my life. But when it mattered most, I fell in love with a man so indescribably wonderful that every other aspect of my life has been bettered by our relationship. I know this is rare, and I cherish him and our life together.

Of course, I wouldn’t be Wiggles without loads of dumb moves. How is it that I didn’t learn from Sassafrass’s high school graduation that I should not appear in public wearing ivory pants? Even when they fit properly, such bulk and bumps do not look good in light colors. Apparently, I am incapable of seeing myself in a mirror. It’s all a blur, topped with makeup and jewelry. Most unsettling.

Fat & Happy. I cannot complain. But I do apologize if this burns your eyes.

Also, I must confess that my industrial strength two week old blow-out was quite the worse for wear having slogged through the worst of the Jersey summer heat and humidity. Even more startling, I managed to eke another week out of said ‘do until I finally plopped into the magical hands of Hamideh, my Hair Goddess. I maintain it’s her hair; it just happens to be on my head.

Multigenerational gorgeousness.

Allow me to close with just a heartfelt thank you to all the people who made it such a great day: Andy & Susan for letting us trash their home, Roberta for shlepping the food from NYC, Jeanne for wearing one of her snazzy new dresses and playing the piano for everyone, Tucker for being Tucker and looking more fabulous than ever while doing so, Leigh Ann and Josie and Matt for wasting their Saturday by being with us, Peter and Sue for trekking in from Chicago amid enormous challenges, and, most of all, Sassafrass for blessing us by singing “Our Love is Here to Stay,” which celebrated us as a couple and as a family.

My Immortal Beloveds [to steal a phrase from Kelly Ripa]

I promise never to be this serious again, folks!

Wiggles and I Eavesdrop on Jeanne’s Therapy Session

this is a woman with a degree! Thank God!

this is a woman with a degree! Thank God!

 

On the suggestion of her gerontologist, our fair mother has entered therapy.  Wiggles and I can only imagine what she talks about, but we can make some educated guesses that main topics include:

1. her children

2. the need for a weekly hair appointment

3.  her ailing husband

4. the need for a weekly manicure

5. current events: I think this week probably included a mention of the stunning tie-dye assymetrical hem dress that Wiggles bought Mah at a local Teaneck emporium. Jeanne looked adorable in it, especially after she paired it with jewelled flip-flops and dangly earrings.

 

This was, in fact the outfit that Jeanne wore when we delivered her to her session. We were hoping that we’d be invited in to hob-nob with Mah and her therapist. But alas, the shrink didn’t ask us to join in the revelry. She just snapped on the radio and ushered in her patient, the 80-year old living embodiment of the Age of Aquarius.

Wiggs and I had to know what Jeanne was babbling about! With no time to lose, we rustled up some props so we could hear.  Here’s what it looked like:

ooh! she IS discussing us!

ooh! she IS discussing us!

 

Then she abruptly switched topics. Wiggles said she heard the words “gold bracelet,” “hot dog at Costco” and “crackle nail polish.”

When the session was winding up, we had to get ourselves together. “Act casual!” I instructed Wiggs. Here’s the pose she took:

Here she is, NOT eavesdropping. I swear, Your Honor!

Here she is, NOT eavesdropping. I swear, Your Honor!

Jeanne was happy as a clam when she emerged. Then guess what we did? That’s right: onto Costco for hot dogs and lemonade. Bliss!

 

 

Is 50 The New 42?

It is, if you ask my friend Amanda from the dog run. When I told her I was 50, she said she couldn’t believe it and that she thought I was in my early 40s. And it had the ring of truth when she said it! She thought I looked like this!!

It was a real shot in the arm, as Jeanne would say, because I have been feeling older….like, who are these whippersnappers they keep talking about on FASHION POLICE?  Where has my waist disappeared to? What the hell is an Icloud and can I see it from a plane?

I sorta have been feeling like this

These are just some of the questions that plague me. But at least people think I’m 42. Whoohoo!!

 

Preview: Wiggles Is Coming to NJ to Renew Her Wedding Vows: Jeanne is thrown into a Clothing Quandry

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Yep, you read that right. Seems Wiggles is putting down her nail scissors (or should I say, her saw?) and she and the L&M are getting on a plane to come East and re-pledge their love. It is shaping up to be a hell of a party, complete with deli platters, Sassy as officiant, and special appearances from Bob and Jeanne, the latter of whom has been mulling her outfit for the past few weeks. I expect the rumination to intensify, and I will start to hear more of the following:

Are you wearing a dress to Wiggles’ party?

Joan Rivers has been showing a lot of new clothes lately. Should I get a new outfit?

I do have white pants I could wear.

I think I need a new skinny belt.

One of the girls bought me a skinny belt. It cost $2!

That skinny belt doesn’t fit. I think I need to loop two together.

Let’s go to Banana Republic so I can get something to wear for Wiggles’ party!

Eesh. It will be a bloody miracle if I make it to this bash.

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I Still Know How to Shake it!

I did something last night that I haven’t done in ages: I went to a dance party. My friend Nancy talked me into it; though honestly, she didn’t have to do too much arm-twisting when she told me it would be  50s and 60s music. I was so worried my feet would hurt that I wore sneakers that Sassafrass had grown tired of, with jeans and a $7 t-shirt from Target. I looked like a 15 year old – a 15 year old wearing some very nice jewelry, that is.

I wasn’t too nervous until Nancy said to me, “Are you nervous?” Then I thought, who am I kidding? I’m 50. I don’t know how to do any of these dances. Eek! Meanwhile, Nancy was off in the bathroom changing into a flippy skirt and her dancing shoes.

Then we got to the dance and here’s what it looked like:

Whew! Twirl me, baby!

 

All I could think was, I said yes to Nancy and she will kill me if I bail. I have to stay here at least an hour. So I stood up straight and smiled. Then someone asked me to dance. And someone else, and someone else. This is New York, so there were all manners of kooks and weirdos of both genders, but there were lovely people, too. And what I really liked about it was that there was no hidden agenda – it was all about the dancing. It felt so great to get out of my own head and move my body to something other than an elliptical trainer. Every time I looked at Nancy she was swinging away, with her eyes closed in total bliss.

Now I’m on the mailing list. And guess what? There’s a Motown dance in a few weeks. Hopefully my sore tootsies will recover by then.

“Girls” Is NOT the “New” “Sex & the City”

And THIS is NOT the "new" Carrie Bradshaw.

I watched. I shuddered. I can hold my tongue no more.

Girls, the heavily promoted new HBO series following the escapades of a quartet of twentysomething young women, has been heaped with praise. Its more accurate title should have been American Horror Story, but, unfortunately, that was taken.

Lena Dunham, its producer, writer, star, and, apparently, wardrobe mistress & (non) makeup artist, has created “people” so vacuous, aimless, self deluded, and aggresively unattractive – and I mean that literally – that I am agog at the this pointless exercise. It’s like a female, un-hot version of Entourage, minus the much-missed Jeremy Piven pizzazz.

When Ms. Dunham’s character accosts her parents, who’ve informed her they no longer will support her while she writes her Great American Novel, with her “manuscript” she proffers what appears to be about a dozen pages. Possibly hand written. Oi.

No wonder my daughter Sassafrass cannot find friends her own age. These girls chase after boys who are obviously uninterested in them, have meaningless, joyless sex (and I’m all for meaningless sex, but, dammit, it better be joyful), and sit around talking idly and taking baths together. First, Sassy has no interest in propping up the male ego. (Of any age bracket) Second, she’s pursuing her dreams by working like a one-armed paper hanger seven days a week. Third, when she presents herself to the public, she wears clothes that fit & flatter and makeup.

"Though art as lovely as a summer's day...."

These girls make me feel sad. Where’s their self-respect? Their gratitude? Their sense of fun? I’m fairly certain none of them have ever seen an episode of Sex & the City. They oughta.

To quote Our Mother Jeanne, "None of us is so beautiful that she couldn't use a little makeup."

My Hairy 4-Footed One Got me into Trouble with Kathie Lee!

I was on the TODAY show yesterday with Kathie Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotbe. We were talking about sex. Yeah, just the three of us girls getting down to it on national tv.

I don’t want to say that Pancake was there with us in spirit, but we had to hold up taping my segment because they needed to de-lint my pants. The Wardrobe Mistress de-linted me everywhere – and I mean everywhere! We were practically on a date with what she was doing!

While KLG and HK were looking on, she said to me, “Do you have a dog?”

Yes! I answered proudly.

It was only later I realized it was because my shed-free Pancake had, in fact, shedded on me.

But was I mad at my Cakey? No. Never!

Here’s how it went, if you want to see.

http://klgh.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/03/02/10561851-who-knows-more-about-you-know-what-klg-or-hoda