Let me introduce myself.  My real name is Sandra, but I earned the name Aunt Maxine by one of my mischievous great nephews, whom will remain nameless at this point to protect his identity which protects my status as his favorite great aunt or just his great aunt period.  He tends to disown me fairly quickly with the click of a delete button.  Give him time.  He has just recently become an adult wannabe (18 years old).   (Seriously, he is a good kid with a great head on his shoulders.  See Max, Jr.  I got your back!)

I have been divorced for quite a few years  and depending on how you look at it – too many if you love married life or not enough if you enjoy being single.  I enjoy being single, looking like Maxine and not worrying about keeping my glamorous side going 24-7. That’s a lot of work.  And I have enough work!  I do not have any children, but my nieces and nephews have always been the kids I never had.  They had me from the moment that I was told by their moms (my sisters), “I’m pregnant!”  And their kids are my grands and I not only love, but am very proud of each and every one.  Now, I have a great-great-nephew and great-great-niece on the way.  Whoa!  Slow down Nellie!  The years are flying by like being on a skateboard downhill with no mousse needed for the hair!  Whoosh! Whoosh!

I have a dog who is my current 12 year old 4-legged buddy – black lab mix.  Dog is his stage name.  He contracted OCD (Obsessive Critter Disorder) immediately upon my adopting him at 2 years of age.  He went from a townhouse with a backyard about the size of a walk-in closet to my 3-1/2 acres in the country with deer, squirrels, raccoons, armadillos, possums (oh yeah), etc.  And he, too, is mischievous thinking not only his world, but mine as well, revolve around him, which apparently is true.   I will let you come to your own opinion on that issue as you ride with me through The Blog.

I love to laugh.  It is one of my most favorite things to do.  I can turn bad things into humor – okay, well, after I have had the pity party for the appropriate amount of time.  Would you rather have laughing wrinkles or crying wrinkles?  Exactly!  I thought so.  Otherwise, move on to the wallowing blog.   I grew up reading Laughter is the Best Medicine in the Reader’s Digest .  It was my favorite for a long time.  The newspaper funnies were part of my daily routine.  I would bring the characters to life as I read each one and would laugh out loud.  I couldn’t wait until the next day and Sunday’s funnies?  Oh my! My favorite and in color!

I believe it was in my 20s when I “met” Erma Bombeck through her newspaper column and books (not personally, darn it).  And she was a hoot.  I would have to say that she has been my mentor throughout my life.  My favorite of her books is “If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, Why am I in the Pits?”  Yep.  I understand completely.  And I have that book still today.  I had an orthopedist who nicknamed me Erma, Jr and always scheduled my appointments as his last allowing him, his assistant and me to sit and have a hoot of a good time laughing.  We did have fun!  (Well, after the shoulder injections! OUCH!)  I smiled from ear to ear and beamed with my new nickname!  I was honored!

I can walk in Walmart and the registers will go down.  I kid you not.  If it is going to happen, it will be to me.  I used to cry, but finally just learned to laugh and tell whomever it is affecting, “It’s the name.  I’ll add you to my multitude of pages of references.”  They reply, “Oh no.  I am sure it is nothing, but this has never happened before.”  My reply, “Yep, I know.  They all say that.  Trust me.”   Just recently, one of my besties who has known me for almost 13 years, finally admitted that she believes it.   If there is a slow driver on the road, I am going to get behind him/her.  It never fails.  If he/she turns off, another one pulls out.  I am telling you.  Another friend of mine and I were in a salad bar line one day when two women were ahead of us, stopping to discuss each item.  He looked at me and said, “It’s not just on the road with you, is it?”  Me, “Nope.  {sigh…}”  So, that gives you a behind-the-curtains look into who I am.  Ya gotta laugh!  Crying only brings those crying wrinkles!  I do believe I inherited Erma Bombeck’s bowl of cherry pits.

Now that I have aged myself as most of you probably have no clue who Erma Bombeck is or heard of The Reader’s Digest, much less what a magazine subscription is, it’s okay, comedy knows no age.  We will get started on the blog.  More of me as we go as I am a work in progress a/k/a WIP.

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