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Boomer Girl Review: Ultimate Oriole Feeder

I've still got a way to go before I'm feeding pigeons on the steps of St. Paul's (which I never thought was a bad thing to do in your old age, especially if Mary Poppins was your friend.) Nevertheless, my life is slowly but surely going to the birds. This year, I've decided to become one with the orioles which is a different game than the cardinals and hummingbirds. Orioles like oranges and grape jelly and nectar that's not as sweet as hummingbird nectar. (I assume, because they need to wash down the sugar in that sticky grape jelly.)  They also like the color orange, which makes sense since they themselves are orange in color. And, you know what they say about birds of a feather. Or, something like that. I was assured by the old man at the feed and seed store that the "orioles are going crazy" this year so I invested 20 bucks in a bright orange feeder, guaranteed to bring 'em in from all over.
Now, when you put "Ultimate" in your brand name,…
Recent posts

Boomer Girl Review: The Original Sleep Sound Machine

While the college kids in town were away on spring break last week, the wildlife in our yard was getting down with a raucous ritual of their own. That's right, gentle readers. It's mating season in BoomerGirl's wild kingdom, a noisy affair that goes on night after night, week after week until - voila! - adorable babies arrive in May.

In March, it's the owls. Barred owls, to be specific, which sound something like this when they're, as the kids in Cancun say, hooking up:



Kind of charming and natural, in a way, right? In the daylight, yes. But, not if you have sleep issues. Because these owls go at it all. Night. Looooong!

I'm beginning to understand how important sleep is to one's longevity, not to mention sanity. So, I took the advice of a formerly sleep-deprived friend and purchased myself a device that wouldn't keep me up at night (unlike my iPhone and iPad, but that's another issue. One problem at a time.)  It's called the Original Sleep Sou…

Boomer Girl Review: Lea & Perrins Marinade for Chicken

If you're looking for a terrific way to give your turkey gravy some zip, this is the condiment for you, my friends. My secret weapon, which is always on hand in the fridge to jazz up fish and chicken dishes, was formerly sold as White Wine Worcestershire Sauce. (I'm guessing the Lea & Perrins people couldn't pronounce 'Worcestershire' just like the rest of us.) With its delectable blend of herbs, spices and white wine, you can even deglaze a roaster pan with it, although I recommend adding more white wine to do the job.

And, yes, I am making my gravy a full day early this year. Nobody wants to relive my panic attack from last year when the gravy refused to thicken while I whisked frantically - sweat pouring from my brow - as my extended family looked on in horror.

Boomer Girl Review: Simply Christmas by Leslie Odom, Jr.

I have a hard and fast rule about not playing holiday music until we start decorating the tree on Thanksgiving weekend. This year, I made an exception. For Leslie. Because I love him. There. Now you know.

Leslie Odom, Jr., one of the stars of Broadway's "Hamilton" (which I was fortunate enough to see in New York on my 60th birthday last year) has a voice that could melt the coldest heart.  Just as melted-buttery-good as Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett, Johnny Mathis and all the greats. This delightfully under-produced album (as Christmas albums go) has only 9 songs, but each one is a gem. Oh, but don't take my word for it. Listen for yourself and, then, just for grins, watch Leslie himself singing "Autumn Leaves" as a special Thanksgiving treat....



Now, do you see why I love him? Why I'm so thankful he's in my life?

Happy Thanksgiving, Leslie! And happy Thanksgiving to you, friends!

Post-election Productivity Syndrome (PPS)

Well, here it is almost a month since I last posted. Where does the time go? Into pre- and post-election obsession, that's where. I had been so preoccupied with the presidential race, it was all I could do to perform my part-time job and the most basic personal hygiene thanks to the non-stop storylines and spin. I'm a self-confessed news junkie, but it felt less heaven and more hell. Still, I couldn't cut it off.

Then, something happened on Election Night that was nothing short of an ah-ha moment. As I sat there Tuesday evening, clutching a Bota Box of Redvolution (highly recommended) between my legs, I said to myself, "BoomerGirl, you need to go to bed before they call this thing. Your eyes are puffy enough without the ugly cry. Then, get up in the morning, make yourself a pot of coffee and redecorate the freaking family room."

And that's what I did, dammit.

While they marched the streets in New York....
And in my hometown...

I painted...and painted... and p…

Do you swear to tell the truth...?

I survived my annual physical last week which, in itself, is no small victory. This was the first year I didn't "cram for the test," as my son would say. The 35-year-old man-of-sudden-wisdom recently challenged me, saying: "Mom. How will you know what's really going on with you if you act like someone else for a month before your exam?"

Hard to argue with logic like that. And, okay, it's probably not the best idea to curtail all of one's bad habits (drinking booze, eating carbs and couch-surfing) weeks before the "well person visit" in hopes of ace-ing the lab work and avoiding bad news.

But it was working for me so well, dammit!

This year, I changed nothing about my lifestyle (which is, admittedly, a lot healthier than it used to be, Shiraz and carbs notwithstanding,) bit the bullet and had my blood drawn. I answered all of my doctor's questions truthfully and took my lumps when applicable. ("You know wine has calories, right?&q…

Going GF OR Thank God for TJ's Oatmeal

I've officially - and finally - declared myself 100% gluten free. I've been in d'Nile for months (it's a long river, doncha know) but reality literally gut-punched me for the last time this past weekend when I ate a negligible amount of breading on fish and felt like a miserable, gassy presidential candidate for two days. I'm 60. Life's too short for avoidable pain. Which is why I really should stop obsessing about the miserable gassy groper. Besides, I'm determined to keep my blog apolitical. (How am I doing?)
     Now, I'm coming to terms with my new life "without." Without pasta, whiskey, hot-out-of-the-oven popovers on Christmas Eve, cake, fried chicken....the list is depressingly long. But, hey, I'm a creative and resourceful person. A former reporter, for crying out loud. I can find the restaurants that accommodate the gluten-less and research the best GF recipes ever created. (They'll be the BEST, believe me! My recipe file…