Why are all these Zombies wanna-be's in my Lane?

There’s major roadwork happening in my city right now, and honestly, I’ve never witnessed such a parade of questionable driving decisions. Some drivers are letting others cross traffic in ways that make my jaw drop. Look, I get it, you’re trying to be nice—but this isn’t the time to play the Good Samaritan. They can’t see what’s happening in every lane, and by letting them out, you’re practically inviting a head-on collision.

Here’s the kicker: these are the same folks who absolutely wouldn’t make it in a zombie apocalypse. Guaranteed. You’re out there trying to save someone in traffic, and in a survival scenario, that kind of decision-making gets you bitten. Survival rule #1? Think it through before acting.

Raising kids

 I’m not naming names, but I raised my kids to work hard, think things through, and treat others with kindness and respect. I’ve seen them stand up for themselves and others, befriend those who needed a friend, and share a meal with someone sitting alone—whether it was in a school cafeteria or with an elderly man they just met at their grandfather’s funeral.

If you’re not seeing that side of them, there’s a reason. I also taught them not to tolerate disrespect or put up with nonsense. Just something to keep in mind.

Same Verse... Not the same as the First!

Oh, the 50s. What a ride that was—for all the wrong reasons. My 30s and 40s? Brilliant, especially the 40s. But the 50s? A chaotic cocktail I could’ve done without. Menopause barging in uninvited, the kids flying the nest, and the rather rude realization that my "dazzling beauty queen” days were more of a distant memory. It felt like an identity crisis on steroids.

Then cue my husband retiring. Lovely for him, naturally. He puts his feet up while I’m still running the show, except now the house is somehow his domain.

Now, we’re in the 60s, and things have shifted yet again. The grandkids are growing up, and I have to watch my friends morph into Pinterest-perfect grandmas. Am I jealous? No, not really. Am I mildly miffed that they seem cooler? Maybe a little. It’s another dent to the ol’ ego. What’s a woman supposed to do when the world assumes her mission ends post-parenting? Start knitting scarves?

And then there’s the big question no one warns you about. Turn the focus on myself? Great idea, right? But wait, does that make me selfish? I’ll be honest—parts of this decade do feel like a surprise sequel to my teenage years. Only this time, I have fewer pimples and way more disposable income. Sleeping in, planning vacations without diaper bags, eating dessert just because. It’s liberating, sure. But it’s also bittersweet to feel like you’re meeting a “new you” when you actually liked the original model just fine.

Here’s to the 60s, though. They say reinvention is key. Maybe I’ll even get a cool grandma badge at some point. Or not—we’ll see.

Wearing our own Shoes

When I’m at the doctor’s office, waiting for my turn, I often find myself watching the other patients around me. There they are, people around my age, moving just a little slower as they sit down or pulling out their glasses to check their phones. It’s surreal, isn’t it? We were all young not too long ago, full of dreams and plans that felt endless.

Now, we’ve raised families, built careers, and some of us are closing that chapter with retirement. The gray hairs are coming in steadily, and the aches and pains are starting to announce themselves more loudly. Yet somehow, sitting there surrounded by strangers, I feel this unexpected connection to them all. We’ve traveled similar roads, weathered the same kind of storms, and here we are, all moving forward together to our next chapter in our lives, just in different shoes.

I Ain't No Fangirl

Ozzy Osbourne passed away this week, and while I wouldn’t say I’m the type to idolize celebrities, it really made me stop and think about him. I’ve always thought he was a fascinating figure—a rock legend who was wildly entertaining on reality TV yet somehow came across as surprisingly relatable (in his own way). I guess it’s got me reflecting on how I’ve never been one to get starstruck. Honestly, I think I’d make a pretty solid friend to a celebrity because I just don’t have that “fan” mindset.

This realization took me back to my younger days when my best friend was utterly obsessed with Leif Garrett. Her world revolved around him. Her locker, clipboard, walls—basically everything she owned was covered in pictures of him clipped from Tiger Beat (a 70s and 80s rite of passage, for sure). Meanwhile, I tried to keep up but didn’t have a single celebrity crush to my name. Weird, right? Everyone else was fangirling, and I just... wasn’t into it.

Don’t get me wrong—I grew up on classic rock. I listened to Ozzy, Mötley Crüe, and every rock ’n’ roll band of that era. But while others memorized band members’ names and pasted their posters everywhere, I was just there for the music. I never really cared about who they were as people. Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt I’d be good at keeping a famous friend grounded—I see them as people, not untouchable idols.

I’ll admit, though, I didn’t really “discover” Ozzy until his family’s reality show came along. That’s when I realized how much I liked him and Sharon. They were chaotic yet oddly charming. It made me wish I knew them better in real life because they seemed… human. It got me thinking how so many people we admire from afar must have fascinating layers we don’t see because we’re so busy seeing them as “icons” instead of normal people. That thought’s been sitting with me lately.