Free Money!

by Sandy // December 7, 2017 // 3 Comments

In the “Old Days” shopping included layaway, rain checks and rebates. Things have changed. Now, most shopping is done online. So, instead of going home, filling out a form, then mailing it in with a copy of your receipt for a rebate, you can now get an Ebate.

A few days ago, I made a fairly significant purchase. When I mentioned it to Irene, her immediate response was “Did you use Ebates? You would have gotten $35 back.” What? $35? OK, I thought this was definitely worth looking into.

I signed up, made a purchase and got an ebate. It was seriously THAT easy!

Because I downloaded the free “button”, whenever I’m on a page with an Ebate, I get a pop-up on my screen. I just click the pop-up to apply the cash back or any coupons that are available. Then they send me a check.

If you shop online at any of these stores (and there’s hundreds more!), you should sign up, too. It’s FREE money and it’s easy.

Interested? This is all you have to do:

Click this Ebates link. (Use this link to automatically get $10 the first time you use Ebates.)
Sign up.
Download the free “button” offered by Ebates. (That way, you don’t have to remember to use Ebates. The button reminds you!)
Shop and get free money!

I’m already planning a trip with my Ebates.

They’ve notified me that my Big Fat Check is on it’s way!

Call Me, Maybe?

by Irene // October 17, 2017 // 7 Comments

Growing up, my siblings and I had no contact with our grandparents. We never had the chance to give our grandmother an endearing name such as the Polish Babcia, Busha or Babka, which to me simply translated to “old lady with a babushka”.

When I moved to Kentucky, I first heard the term “Memaw”. I like it. It’s southern, unpretentious and humble just like my friend, Shelley.

Sometimes nicknames are born from the child’s inability to pronounce a name. Our friend, Regina, is “Neena” because her granddaughters couldn’t pronounce “Regina”.

Then there’s my friend, Shirley, who’s called “Gamma” by her almost 6 foot tall, 15-year-old grandson who doesn’t think it’s uncool. Not. One. Bit.

Statistically, “Grandma” and “Nana” are the most often chosen names for Grandmother. “Other” names come in 41% of the time. Marriage spans are now shorter, so many kids have more than two grandmothers. You can’t use the same name, can you? No? Well, that’s some kind of pressure! Although, my boys had two “grandmas”. One was “Grandma with the Glasses” and one was “Grandma without the Glasses”.

An interesting option is “Ammamamma” (India). It’s kind of cool, but a toddler probably won’t be able to pronounce it before they’re 21. There’s Choo-Choo (jinx)—well that has a ring to it; Or Gee-Ma—for the lazy grandchild.

Try following the lead of the rich and famous with these suggestions:

Laura Bush—Mimi Maxwell

Blythe Danner—Lalo

Goldie Hawn—Glam-ma

Kris Jenner—Lovey

Sharon Osbourne—Shazza

Nancy Pelosi—Grandma Mimi

Pricilla Presley—Nonna

Debbie Reynolds—Aba Daba

Joan Rivers—Nana New Face

Susan Sarandon—Honey

Martha Stewart—Martha

Some grandmothers prefer a more formal nickname. My (yes, younger), sister married before I did and became a grandmother before me, (sigh). She opted to be called “Your Highness” which received a big “Nope-and-Nope” from her son. Even little Prince George doesn’t call Queen Elizabeth “Your Highness”. He calls his great-grandmother, “Gan Gan.”

So, Sandy became “Ma’am” because it sounds like “Mom”, with the bonus that her grandson sounds polite in public.

If you’re having trouble deciding what you’d like to be called by your grandchildren, try either of these two websites.

At quizdoo, Granny was recommended! Wait. Back up. Isn’t that a bit “mainstream-ish”?

Moving on, I then tried to generate a name here:

Grandparent Name Generator

I got “Nanny Irnedee”. Yeah, no. I can’t even pronounce that.

It may be a bit premature to think about what Grandma name I would like since my son isn’t getting married until next year. If I follow Donald Trump’s lead, who’s called “Mr. Trump” by his grandkids (Monster!), the poor kid would need to pronounce five syllables.

Like Goldie, Glam-ma might work. But I think “Grand” would be wonderful. Then, again, I sometimes feel that Grandmas shouldn’t get to pick their names. Grandchildren can do that for them.

Grandmas should embrace with joy whatever name comes from the lips of grandchildren–like my friend Jen, who is now called “Bob”.

What are you called? Or what do you call your grandmother?

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Straws That Don’t Suck

by Irene // August 28, 2017 // 2 Comments

A close friend was reminiscing about a Bloody Mary he enjoyed as a young man. It was made with Absolut Peppar Vodka and Clamato juice. I had never had a Bloody Mary, so I accepted the challenge to replicate it. I found out that “his” cocktail was called a Bloody Caesar or Canadian Bloody Mary (which makes sense since Detroit was so close to Windsor, Ontario).

On my weekly stop to The Party Source, just to the right of the Clamato juice, I spotted Benny’s Original Meat Straws! There aren’t enough emojis to express how much I loved this idea. I practically ran to the cash register with my discovery!

Here’s my version of his Bloody Caesar:

It seems like a weird thing to fixate on, but this had me thinking about other “edible” straws, (Don’t judge. I’m shallow). Why not try a Starbucks Frappuccino® Cookie Straw with a Salted Caramel Scribble? So good, you’ll need to make a “Venti” size of this one.

What about Twizzlers? They’re delicious and fun. Pick a candy-flavored cocktail or one that’s fruity, and slurp away! Here’s my choice and it’s as good as a double rainbow:

A bit more complicated, but still fun, is an Airheads Xtreme Candy Straw.

For a more savory cocktail, use lovage stalks or…wait for it…celery straws!

Finally, an ice straw works for any drink, but they’re perfect for a summery cocktail.

Well, this calls for a drink!

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Bingo: Proof that Getting Old is Awesome

by Irene // July 30, 2017 // 4 Comments

My mom hated bingo. I guess because she was from Europe, didn’t have command of the English language and thought it was a difficult game to learn.

Recently, my friend Shirley and I went to the VFW Hall in Pentwater, Michigan to play bingo. Was it plain and simple? Hahaha. No.

On entering, women were frantically digging in a huge vat of thick, hard bingo cards. Protective gear and a helmet would have helped as cards were hurled in every direction. What were they doing? We found out they were looking for the lowest numbers under the “B” column; numbers 19 through 29 under the “I” column…and on it went. Since I couldn’t take notes and I’m not Rain Man, I let my mild OCD take over and selected the cleanest and newest cards. We each picked six cards and later realized we failed the number one rule of bingo…never play more bingo cards than you can handle,

Walking towards the cashier, we witnessed several good luck charms prominently displayed above the player’s cards. These “Bingo Shrines” included trolls, figurines, coins, and, quite possibly, badger teeth. I assume these lucky charms are just in reach, ready to be patted, kissed or turned away in disgrace.

The cashier asked if we needed “dabbers”. Did he mean “daubers”? We brought “dabbers”, but needed tiddlywinks. Oh! Did he mean “markers”?

Next stop. Find a seat. It appeared the early birds were already in their lucky seats, because if you took the chair Esther, Gertrude or Mildred has sat in for the past 10 years, you just may start a riot.

Settled in, we headed for the food counter run by the Ladies Auxiliary. We both opted for the hot dog platter, coffee, bottled water and a huge fruit bowl. We each pull out a $5 bill. The tab comes to $5.75. We start digging for the 75 cents, when the lunch lady says “that’s all together”. Yippee! Shirley and I both ate for $5.75.

Wheel chairs were locked and ready for the games to begin!

We quickly learned we were not playing the bingo we learned as kids. This was designer, speed bingo. First game was the pattern “X”. Shirley and I scrambled to keep up and giggles were bubbling up into full fits of laughter. We had no idea that once the game starts, it’s eyes down and all talking stops.

We witnessed the crowd heckle the caller when he called an “N” number during the “X” game. We heard bellows of “No Ns!!” or “Change the caller!” or “Everybody hates you!”

These players are all business. They can eat a ground bologna sandwich and double-fist their dabbers at the same time. They’re so serious it seems they’re playing for their crack money.

Maybe to stop our laughter, frenetic cries or panicky, hysterical arm movements, a kind lady handed us notes—four pages! We thanked her and decided we’d study them later then tried to get a grip.

Someone waved their arms and called “BINGO!” with gusto. I now know where the term “bingo wings” comes from.

A murmur starts and the floor workers start walking faster. The win is confirmed and the losers clear their cards. (We must find those colorful markers rimmed in metal and the magic, magnetic wand that collects them with a quick swipe).

It was then my turn. My heart raced. I needed just one more number to win. I look at the monitor displaying the winning bingo ball and with a huge amount of satisfaction, I yell “BINGO!” The room instantly became a Frankenstein mob with pitchforks and torches. Apparently, I broke rule number two: “Jumping the Gun”. Monitors are not official. A bingo is not valid until the number is called.

The game continued as if nothing happened and my winning number was called. So I screamed “BINGO!” (again). There were loud groans, black looks and possibly a public shunning as the floor worker confirmed my dabbed numbers. I won $20 but was given $19 as a dollar is always passed to the player on my left (Shirley) for good luck.

Four hours later, Shirley called BINGO! on the last coverall game and shared the $75 winnings with two other winners. Our winnings paid for our cards and dinner. Fist Pump.

Will we do it again? Maybe. Even if it feels like “BINGO!” is always called right before you’re going to win.

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Sister's Folly

How to be a fabulous, middle-aged+ woman in the 21st Century….

Free Money!

Call Me, Maybe?

Straws That Don’t Suck

Bingo: Proof that Getting Old is Awesome